Sunday, October 18, 2009

The Day My Mother Died


It was a pretty Spring Saturday morning. I was making out a grocery list and planning out my day when my Dad called. I answered the phone and he said "I just came home and found your mother in the floor. I've called 911. I don't know what to do". I asked my Dad if she was breathing, he said yes. I said "I'm on my way" and I grabbed my keys and hopped in the car.

During the 5 minute drive to my parent's house I somehow knew this was going to be "it". My mother had been plagued for more than 20 years (since her early 50's) with one thing after another. She had survived not one, but two brain aneurysms requiring two brain surgeries, two heart attacks requiring two open heart surgeries, and an injury from a fall which developed into a large hematoma on her back that kept her in the hospital for about 6 weeks. I started leaving voice messages for my sister and I just kept driving.

When I got to the house, the ambulance was already there. I went in and found the EMTs working on my mother who was laying in the floor in her housecoat, partly in the hallway, partly in the bathroom. She was unresponsive but still alive. She had a wet wash cloth next to her. They kept asking us if she could have overdosed on her meds because her vitals were good. Somehow Dad and I both knew it was her brain.

Dad had only been gone about 15 minutes. He had gone to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription. When he got back he rang the doorbell but she didn't come. He started calling the house from his cell phone and she didn't answer so he broke in. He'd always said his worst fear was to come home one day and find her like this and it had happened.

They took mom to the hospital where she'd gone so many times before. Dad insisted on driving himself and I followed. We didn't drive fast, just regular. There wasn't anything we could do.

They got her in a bed at the ER and while we were waiting for tests to come back the EMT driver approached us with some papers to sign. When he walked away he said "I'm sorry". I guess he knew too.

The neurologist assigned to my mother told us she had a blood clot in her brain. It measured 3 cm. They were going to start her on meds to see if they could shrink the clot. Even if they were successful they said she would likely have brain damage but it was possible she could survive. They said they would scan her again the next morning to see if they had any luck.

The rest of that day we had visitors; friends and family who came to comfort us. I remember some of it but not everything. Scarlett was there. Kitty brought a bag full of provisions, Kleenex, notepad and pen, yummy snacks. My cousins from the country came up. I guess I was on auto pilot.

I knew my mom didn't want to die but I also knew she was at peace with dying. She had told me that a year before when she had her second bypass surgery following her second heart attack. But she wanted to live to see her great grandson be born, which she did. She had told me then that if anything happened to her she wanted me to look out for Dad. I promised her I would. She also told me that under no circumstances should she be buried wearing anything pink. I assured her it would be my priority for her to look good.

We all went home that night to sleep. When we came in the next morning they had already scanned her. The medication had not worked. The clot had grown from 3 cm to 9 cm. They told us at that point there was no hope and that Mom would die in the next few hours. Mom's longtime doctor came in to see us. I told him how much she loved him. All Mom's friends came to see her one last time. She had never regained consciousness, but they all talked to her, they held her hand, they cried. I told her I remembered everything she had told me and not to worry; I would take care of Daddy. I told her how much I loved her and that she was a good mother. I told her it was okay to go. Just go be at peace. It was a long, hard day.

Night time came and my Dad insisted we all go home to rest. My sister was staying at my house. About an hour after we got home my Dad called to say he had received a call from the hospital. There had been a change and they thought we should all come back. I asked Dad if he wanted my sister and me to come by to get him. Once again, he wanted to drive himself. I remember the drive back over there. My sister and I didn't say much. I kept telling her we would get through this together. It would be okay.

We got there first and waited for Dad to pull in. The three of us walked in together. As we approached Mom's room we noticed the door was closed. Mom's nurse stopped us and told us that she was gone.

The three of us entered the room. She was laying there with no tubes, no machines, no nothing. Just laying there. I kissed her forehead. The three of us held hands and prayed over her, asking God to accept her into his kingdom and to watch over her. Then, my sister and I left the room so Dad could say his goodbyes in private.

We all went to sit in the waiting area one last time. I don't know why we did that. We really just didn't know what to do I guess. We sat there for a little while then we all went home. Once again, Dad drove himself.

When we got home I remember getting out of the car. I wanted to walk. I walked up my street, tears streaming down my face. I remember saying out loud "Mama, I can't feel you anymore! Where are you? I can't feel you anymore!".

The next time I saw my mother was at the funeral home, two days later. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen my mother look so beautiful. I truly mean that. She looked beautiful. Everyone said it was because she was finally free from her broken down body and at peace. She was wearing a powder blue dress. Her fingernails we painted a rosy shade and she had on blue eyeshadow. Her hair looked so pretty. Before everyone started arriving I saw my Dad at the casket. He was talking out loud to my mother and he was crying. I blocked the door way and let him have his time with her.

It's been a year and a half since all that happened and I still think of my mom often. But now when I think of her I try to remember happy times like the restaurant incident, the Sicilian Hex, or my mother's quick wit. I'm slowly letting go of so much sadness, but it is a long process. Writing about her in this journal is part of that process.

I won't lie...sometimes my mother drove me crazy. We didn't always see eye to eye, but I loved my mother very much. Everyone who knew her tells me she adored me. I could do no wrong in my mother's eyes. About three months after she died we went to California to visit my Mom's brother and his wife. They gave me a photo of myself that was taken on the beach when I was about 16. I turned it over and on the back in my mother's handwriting it read "Silhouette of a beautiful girl". That's how my mother felt about me.

Losing a parent is one of the oddest experiences I've ever had. One day I can talk about Mom and laugh, the next day something comes up and I cry. I think back to the last time I saw her and spoke with her, two days before she died. If I'd known I was never going to talk with her again would I have said or done anything differently that day? Happily, I don't think so. There's an empty space in my heart that will never, ever be filled. If you are lucky enough to still have your parents, don't take them for granted. Say what you want to say now. Live each day to the fullest because you just never know when it's your day to get that call.

2 comments:

Scarlett said...

It's not coincidental that yesterday morning, I, too, thought about that day. Actually, I was thinking more about the day before your mom died. Yesterday morning as I was driving downtown to church, I was going down Algonquin Parkway and I vividly remember the exact block I was when when I got your phone call; I even remember the exact spot on the street where I made the U-turn so I could head to the hospital. The rest of the way to church yesterday morning I prayed for you, your Dad and the rest of your family that are still feeling that void. And I also said a big prayer of thanks for you Mom and the encouragement she gave me.

Mary said...

Thanks Scarlett. She was quite fond of you!