Two months ago my life was changed forever. My mom passed away after a short battle with pneumonia, dehydration, and congestive heart failure. She had been visiting my brother and sister in law in Arizona and it was her third week of being there. She was having such a good time visiting and soaking up the warmth of the AZ sun. And then life changed on a dime. She became dehydrated - she was never much of a drinker and didn't realize she should drink more in arid areas. She ended up in the hospital. The call came from my brother that my sister and I should get on a plane as soon as possible because things were looking grim. Cheryl and I couldn't have expected what we saw when we walked into the hospital. Mom, usually able to battle back from everything, lying helplessly in the hospital bed. She slept a lot those few days we were there, but we relished the moments she would awaken and be lucid for a bit. We took those moments to tell her repeatedly how we felt about her, the love we had for her, and thanked her for all she had done for us. The nurses told us that as people near death they are still able to hear, so we made sure we kept things light and included her in our conversations, each of us secretly praying she actually COULD hear our words. She entered hospice on the third day my sister and I were there. Several times we thought we were losing her, but she kept returning to us, refusing to give up - this was the woman we knew and loved. This was the woman we were certain would fight this and be coming home again. But reality told us she was slowly leaving us. There were tears, of course, but we kept reminding her that Dad was waiting for her on the other side, as were her parents and loving friends. We could tell she was torn. She didn't want to leave us, but she did want to be reunited with her loved ones, especially my Dad. It was hard to watch her struggle with the battle between life and letting go. When her body finally made the decision, she relaxed in repose, with the most peaceful look on her face. My Dad had come for her and after all the years of missing him, she was back in his arms for sure.
We celebrated her life rather than holding wakes where so much sadness seemed to prevail. We kept it to our family only, knowing this would be what she would've wanted. All/most of us together around her. Words of love and admiration were shared. Yes, we cried, but we laughed too. We knew we wanted to keep it light and speak of the good times rather than dwell on our sadness. She would never have wanted us to be standing around crying!
My mom was quite a character. An immigrant child who arrived in the US at age 8 at a very volatile time. The Depression was in full swing, she had to learn English and basically be the adult in her family. My grandfather, a carpenter, worked long, hard days. My grandmother was a quiet, shy, scaredy cat. My Mom assumed the role of the leader of the house in some respects. She assimilated well and never expected a thing from anyone. Her core of friends were the same. They had such beautiful and loyal friendships that lasted until death.
My mother was a woman WAY ahead of her time. A woman who never gave up, who fought for what she believed in, had a heart so full that sometimes I thought it would burst. She never felt she had to depend on a man for anything. She enjoyed life. She enjoyed watching others enjoy life. She felt pain when others were hurting and tried to help whenever she could. She gave more than she could ever receive during her lifetime. She tried to instill her strength upon us when we were feeling inadequate or incapable. She gave us a good "kick in the butt" when we needed one. The infamous "Italian Slipper" appeared a few times in our youth.
It is hard to lose a parent. It was terrible when my Dad passed, but he suffered and we were glad he was at peace. It was very hard on my Mom and she never got over the loneliness and void he left when he went to Heaven. She really wanted to join him and lamented often about why she was "still here". As loved ones and friends passed in the years following my Dad's death, she still wondered why she was still around. We would tell her how lucky she was to be living such a full, relatively healthy life at her advanced age. Not many people get to age 97 without being in a wheelchair, using a walker, having joints replaced, needing oxygen, etc. My Mom had none of that. Sure, she slowed down, particularly in the last 6 months of her life. We noticed she slept more, said she felt "lousy" a lot. As our family Matriarch she was a role model for us all. She was proud to be her age and would tell strangers how old she was just so they could marvel along with us all.
Each day brings a range of emotions for me. I cry at odd times and smile at other times. The hardest of times is the evening when I would call her every day. When she was younger I would pick her brain about recipes, advice, helpful hints, child raising, and more. As she got older the conversations were shorter and repetitive - "So what's new?" was her go to each night. I miss those calls more than I ever would have dreamed I would. I am angry with myself that I didn't tell her more of the mundaneness many of my days held. She would have enjoyed hearing it. I know for the rest of my life I will harbor guilt at what I could have done better as her daughter. I think that is part of being on the other side of death. It helps me to know that my Mom loved me unconditionally. How lucky I was to have that love.
Two things have struck me since her passing - I will never hear her voice again, and no one ever told me how to live without her.
Rest with the angels, Mom. I love and miss you more than you will ever know.
