Mom died the Sunday before last at ten in the morning, after spending one last night beside my Dad. After her second hospital stay it was clear that her kidneys would continue to fail, so we brought her home, where she wanted to be. We called hospice in. They were there every day and on call 24/7. They told us what great care we were taking of her, I’m grateful for that.
When she first came home she had a brief rally, there was no more anger, no paranoia. She smiled at Cleetus when we went in late night to move her and he brushed the hair back off her forehead. That made me incredibly happy. People got to come see her, but a few missed that window, that brief few days that she spoke, and smiled, they only saw mom in a semi-conscience state, but they did get to talk to her, and I’m sure she heard them.
The night before she died Dad and I were both in the room with her, talking softly to her and telling her it was all going to be all right, that we would be okay, and I saw tears roll down her face. I said, “Dad, look.” That was the only time she ever cried. I knew then that it wouldn’t be long. I felt certain that it was her only way of saying goodbye.
At poker that night I told Jon what had happened and what I thought it meant. I said, “You can go up there, Jonny, if you want, but…don’t feel like you have to. You can choose to let that memory of her coming to visit us here at the poker table be your last memory of her. Her smiling, and happy, and loving us all.” He said that was exactly what he wanted and I’m so glad he did, because by that point seeing his Mom Mom that way would have broken his heart, and it wasn’t necessary. By ten the next morning she was gone.
She was laid to rest in a beautiful, and historic churchyard, in a sunny spot by the treeline. I’ve been overwhelmed By people sharing memories of Mom. People who know well what we’ve lost, who she was before that terrible disease got a hold of her. How generous, how kind, and how much fun she was, all of that and more.
There’s a terrible emptiness in the house now. I keep expecting her to come up behind my chair. We’ve been starting to sort through and give away, her care supplies have been donated, her clothes, well, there’s a lot, but we’ll get there. Me and Dad are both sleeping too much, and not enough. Not enough at night, and too much during the day. Memories wash over me and I find myself crying at the damnedest things, but that’s okay, I tell myself, give it time. Mom is home in the sky now, she’s free.
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feels really weird.
May the Goddess guide your Mom on her journey to the Summerlands. May you, your family and friends find Peace.