Yesterday I stumbled upon my old MySpace account. Remember MySpace? It’s current state…real sad. It’s kinda like an old ship just floating about…filled with memories of all who were once aboard.
It wasn’t a very long visit…just long enough to see some old friends, read some old messages and review some of my old Blog postings.
One of the Blog posts I came across, was the I wrote exactly one month after my Mom passed away. As I was reread it, I could remember every emotion I was feeling while writing it. When I finished, I realized posting that story was extremely therapeutic, for soon after, I remember that I started to come out of the funk I was in. It still took sometime to get over the enormity of her loss and my grief, but I did. And even though I still miss her a great deal, the grief is no longer paralyzing.
I thought I would re-post it as a reminder to us all — when things seem their darkest talk to somebody. If you can’t express your thoughts verbally, write them down AND share them with someone. Be sure to make the effort to communicate your feelings in a way that helps you to express what’s happening to you. Because in that moment, it’s the very last thing you want to do. Granted, it might not make everything all better, but at least by sharing, you allow others to be there for and with you.
So it’s been a month (today) since my mom died… (February 21, 2008)
Obviously when something this big happens in you life, it’s hard to put into words exactly what you’re feeling. The one thing I can say without hesitation is that while I may not have any blood family left (that I know), my friends are the most amazing people in the world.
On this day last month, I was on a beautiful cruise ship docked on the Island of Grand Turk – a destination I had always wanted to visit. As had been my ritual the previous 4 days, I was on the phone with the hospital inquiring about my mom’s condition first thing in the morning. She had improved greatly. There were a few concerns, but they seemed pleased with how she was responding. She was well on her way to making yet another comeback!
After a quick breakfast our group headed out for the Island. Honestly speaking, we were docked at a remote corner of the Island that was clearly built to receive ships on a daily basis, so there really wasn’t much to see. The picture however was just as I had expected it to be – white sandy beaches and beautiful blue water.
After strolling through the ‘gift’ and duty-free shops we of course went for a quick cocktail after which, I headed back to the ship. Truth be told, the days when the ship is docked at port are the best days to get a chair on the main deck of the boat. I of course was looking forward to working on my tan.
I reached for my phone to play some music and noticed I had missed a call and a voicemail. The rest as they say is history.
The doctor had called and left a voice message saying my mom had an “episode.” When I called to speak to the doctor, a nurse told me he was in an emergency.
Looking back on it now, I all but knew at that moment my mom had either died or was near death. When I finally got him on the phone, he reiterated what he said in the voicemail and it took my pressing him for him to finally tell me the ‘episode’ my mom was experiencing was actually full cardiac arrest. Thinking back on it, clearly I was too stunned to bitch slap him for sugarcoating what was really going on. Instead I asked him, to his surprise, how long had she been down for? His response — approximately 15 minutes.
I asked him to run through the measures they had taken and we discussed several things which honestly I don’t recall. Before I knew it another 10 minutes had gone by and I asked him to see if there had been any change.
He put the phone down to go check; it was at that moment Brandon, my roommate, walked through the rotating door and on to the deck. He literally came from nowhere. I grabbed his hand and told him what was happening. Given what I knew was about to happen, I was so relieved not to be alone.
When the doctor came back to the phone, he said there had been no change, and asked what did I want them to do? So, the moment I had dreaded for 10 long years had finally come.
My response went something along the lines of, ‘stop, stop all measures. Let her go.’
It’s a terrible feeling telling someone to stop trying to save your mother’s life. The only thing that gets me through it is the simple fact that that woman went through more hell the past 10 years than humanly possible. Every time she was on the brink of death, she somehow found way to come back. This time she hadn’t. So I have to believe she was ready to go.
Life as they say goes on, though I am having a hard time moving on and getting past it. As I said at her funeral, I can’t help but feel I’ve lost a bit of my identity now that she’s gone because if I’m not looking after her, who am I?
Thanks, in large part to my friends, I am getting there, slowly.
Repartee Room 
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