Lately I feel like there is something wrong with me. I feel as though I should be acting differently then I am. I feel as though I should be curled up in bed under the covers, crying constantly, totally consumed in grief. I mean, this is my mom I just lost, my whole wide world. She was my everything, my best friend. I could always count on her being right there at my side through life. I probably depended on her more then I should have. But I didn't care, she needed me, and I needed her. This is a huge loss for me. Actually, huge doesn't even begin to describe what kind of loss this is for me. Imagine someone being there every single day of your life, no matter what, loving you and supporting you, being your rock, your best friend. The one person you do everything with. Then, just take them away and try and understand that your never going to see this person for the rest of your life. Never hear their voice, their laugh, watch all the little quirks and things that they do. It's as though someone reached into your soul and just stole it. I feel as though I should be a basket case. Yet, somehow I wake up every morning, and some days I manage to go by without shedding a single tear. I believe my son has a big part in that. I am mommy, and that is a never-ending job. As a two year old, he doesn't comprehend what is going on around here, and the loss we are all trying to deal with. He just knows he needs me to be his mommy, kiss his boo-boo's and make him food, and play with him, and take care of his daily needs. He is truly what keeps me going. Without him, I really do think I'd be a basket case, laying in bed all day never wanting to emerge from the covers.
But life goes on, they say. I know I need to grieve, and go through all those stages they take about. But I feel like I stop myself. I really don't know why. Perhaps I am just used to being the strong one, and making sure everyone else is taken care of. But, to be truly honest with myself, I just don't think I have admitted to myself she is really gone. It is easier for me to put it out of my mind, like she is just still at the hospital and one day she'll get better and be able to come home. This just doesn't seem like it could be true, how in the world did we lose her!? She was just diagnosed, they have a treatment plan set for her, and even though the prognosis wasn't the best for her, we knew we had some time left. The BAM! Reality smacks you in the face. Bringing home her urn, and placing it on our wall unit, bring the reality of what happened truly home for me. I find myself looking at the urn, and thinking, "How the hell did this happen? How the hell did you end up in a box!?". It is getting harder each day to keep up the charade in my head that this didn't happen with an urn is staring you in the face.
I just wish I knew how to deal with this. I wish she was here to tell me how to, because she'd be the one person who would have all the right words to make me feel better. But I know what she'd tell me. She'd say, "Don't be upset, because I am happy now. I don't have any pain, I have a healthy body, I have family with me, and am finally where I have always wanted to be, with Jesus, praising him all day long and learning from him. I had a hard life, things never went the right way for me, I always felt like a burden, even though everyone would tell me I am not, I never felt well for the longest time, I worried about finances and always felt like an outsider. Now, I am released of all that. Just be happy for me".
As I just typed these words, I feel as though she was just speaking through me, and I have to take comfort in that. I have no doubt those words are what she'd speak to me if she could. So I try not to be so sad, I just try to live my life, take care of my son that way she would want me to, make sure my dad is being taken care of just like she would have, and take care of my husband. I found an email in her account tonight where she was telling someone about me, and she said she thought I was perfect no matter what, and that I was the best thing to ever happen to her, and she'd go through everything she had to again just to still have me. You know what mom, you were perfect to me too. :)
About Me
- Kimbo Central
- San Tan Valley, AZ, United States
- A wife and mommy to a beautiful three year old son, blogging about being a mommy, and taking care of my family.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Rest in Peace
On March 2, 2012, at 1:50pm, my beautiful mother, Cynthia, went home to be with the Lord.
As I last posted, her doctor had asked us to make a very hard decision as to whether or not she would want to live her life out in the hospital bed, hooked up to some many tubes and IVs, laying there on a ventilator because she was unable to breathe on her own, and on constant kidney dialysis because her kidneys had completely failed. My dad wanted to take a few days to think over this decision, because ultimately, he was the one who was going to have to have the final say, and he wanted just some sort of glimmer of hope that she might pull through, or start improving. The meeting with the family was on Wednesday, and Friday morning, we received a call from mom's nurse stating that it looked as though Mom had a massive heart attack, and they had been having a very tough time keeping her blood pressure up. With this latest news, we knew that she had made this very hard decision for us.
We gathered at the hospital, and they called in a chaplain to be there with us. As I went into her room, I felt so dizzy and lightheaded. While on Wednesday I had said to her what I needed to say to her to get in my goodbye's in case I didn't have a moment alone with her again, it all just felt surreal. I keep thinking in my head that God was going to give us a miracle, she was going to wake from this. But the nurse said even when they lowered her sedation, she wouldn't respond or move, even though she had been before. It was just time for her to get peace. Her body, her shell, was too sick, and her spirit I know must have been watching over us waiting to be released to Heaven. But even though I knew she would be happy to go to Heaven, us who have to stay behind are selfish.
We finally had to let her go, and I wish I could say it was a peaceful experience when we entered back into that room after they removed her breathing tube, but it wasn't. Her eyes were wide open and her mouth wide open, and she seemed to be gasping for air. While I know she wasn't suffering, and it was just her body doing what it needed to do, and she was probably already gone, it was just too much for me. I thought I could handle anything, but this, no way. I kissed her hand and I told her it was OK to go to Heaven, that I'd take care of everyone. Then I just felt this overwhelming urge to throw up, and at the same time, just a force trying to get me turn around and not look at her. I turned my chair as fast as I could so my back was to her, and the Chaplain prayed from Psalm 23. Then, it was done. Once I heard the monitors start beeping, I knew she was gone, and again I felt a force to just get out of the room, and my aunt Kelly helped me.
I truly believe in that moment, Mom was there, watching over us. I truly believe she knew I shouldn't be there for that, and she was protecting me by giving me that force to turn around and not see her die, and to get me out of that room so I wouldn't turn around and see her laying there. I know that she knows I was not strong enough for that. It gives me some peace in my heart to know that even as she was heading to Heaven, she thought enough to protect me.
It has been seven days since my mom has passed. I feel numb. I feel like I stop myself from crying because I want to be strong for my family. She always said I was the glue that held the family together, and I feel as though I need to be strong so they can grieve and have me to talk to, to help them through this. I just don't want to deal with this. I have a hard time believing I am never going to see my mom again, that I am never going to talk to her, touch her, hear her laugh. The last month of her life she was so sick, and I think she knew that she was not long for this life, but she never made this known to me. The last few days she was at home before going back into the hospital she didn't talk much really, slept a lot. Didn't seem to want to carry on any kind of conversation. In return, I tried not to be around her as much because she didn't look herself, she looked sick, and I think I knew, subconsciously, that she was dying, and I refused to face it. Looking at her was so hard for me, I remember telling Phil on several occasions that I felt better when she wasn't home because then I didn't have to face how sick she was. Now, I have regrets. I should have talked to her more, I should have let her know that she could have talked to me openly. However, I believe she just was trying to protect me again. She knew how upset I was, and I think she kept it all to herself. We talked about anything, but this was the only thing I don't think she felt she could talk to me about, and now I feel bad.
The chaplain asked us to tell her about my mom, a favorite memory, her personality. Where do you even start with her. My mother was the kindest, wisest, beautiful, smartest, and caring person I have ever known. She always knew how to fix things, make things better. She had wonderful advice, though I never always took it. She had the best sense of humor, we'd laugh for hours. She loved her family so much. She'd always give and give, and never take anything in return. She always felt she was a burden, but she never was. She never thought she was smart, but she knew so much. She was the best mother. She knew just how to have the perfect relationship with me in being my mother, and my friend at the same time. Honestly, I can look back at my childhood, and as I told her recently, I have no bad memories. We always had fun, she always kept me safe, she always kept me fed and dressed with a roof over my head. She was truly my other half. It was as though we were always attached right at the hip. There was never a day that we didn't see each other, or didn't talk.
The thing I am happiest about is that I was able to give her a beautiful grandchild that was just her whole world these past two years. She was so excited about being a grandma, and when he was born she even shook his hand and told him it was nice to meet him. She said she felt they should have a formal introduction. She was so funny like that. She would do anything for this little boy, her face would just lit up every time she saw him. She wanted to watch him grow up, and she wanted to teach him so many things. He just loves her too, in fact a lot of times he used to call her mama, because was like another mommy to him. The one thing she was most proud of though: he has her nose, and she thought that was so cool..
My aunt said that I am made up of all the best parts of my mom, and I sure hope so. I hope that I can do her proud in my life, and continue on traditions and such that she liked and would want us to do in her place. I hope that I can continue her legacy of being such a good person, who takes care of everyone. I hope I can be just half the mother to my son that she was to me, and that he will live on in her as well.
I just have to figure out now how to live without my other half being with me. Even with all my family and friends around me, I have never felt so alone in my whole life. But, she is no longer suffering. For that, I must be happy that she gets to be with the Lord, be with her father, and other family, and even the baby Phil and I lost a few years ago. I couldn't ask for anyone better to be there taking care of that child until I am able to be reunited with them again someday.
I love you mommy, rest in peace my sweet girl.
As I last posted, her doctor had asked us to make a very hard decision as to whether or not she would want to live her life out in the hospital bed, hooked up to some many tubes and IVs, laying there on a ventilator because she was unable to breathe on her own, and on constant kidney dialysis because her kidneys had completely failed. My dad wanted to take a few days to think over this decision, because ultimately, he was the one who was going to have to have the final say, and he wanted just some sort of glimmer of hope that she might pull through, or start improving. The meeting with the family was on Wednesday, and Friday morning, we received a call from mom's nurse stating that it looked as though Mom had a massive heart attack, and they had been having a very tough time keeping her blood pressure up. With this latest news, we knew that she had made this very hard decision for us.
We gathered at the hospital, and they called in a chaplain to be there with us. As I went into her room, I felt so dizzy and lightheaded. While on Wednesday I had said to her what I needed to say to her to get in my goodbye's in case I didn't have a moment alone with her again, it all just felt surreal. I keep thinking in my head that God was going to give us a miracle, she was going to wake from this. But the nurse said even when they lowered her sedation, she wouldn't respond or move, even though she had been before. It was just time for her to get peace. Her body, her shell, was too sick, and her spirit I know must have been watching over us waiting to be released to Heaven. But even though I knew she would be happy to go to Heaven, us who have to stay behind are selfish.
We finally had to let her go, and I wish I could say it was a peaceful experience when we entered back into that room after they removed her breathing tube, but it wasn't. Her eyes were wide open and her mouth wide open, and she seemed to be gasping for air. While I know she wasn't suffering, and it was just her body doing what it needed to do, and she was probably already gone, it was just too much for me. I thought I could handle anything, but this, no way. I kissed her hand and I told her it was OK to go to Heaven, that I'd take care of everyone. Then I just felt this overwhelming urge to throw up, and at the same time, just a force trying to get me turn around and not look at her. I turned my chair as fast as I could so my back was to her, and the Chaplain prayed from Psalm 23. Then, it was done. Once I heard the monitors start beeping, I knew she was gone, and again I felt a force to just get out of the room, and my aunt Kelly helped me.
I truly believe in that moment, Mom was there, watching over us. I truly believe she knew I shouldn't be there for that, and she was protecting me by giving me that force to turn around and not see her die, and to get me out of that room so I wouldn't turn around and see her laying there. I know that she knows I was not strong enough for that. It gives me some peace in my heart to know that even as she was heading to Heaven, she thought enough to protect me.
It has been seven days since my mom has passed. I feel numb. I feel like I stop myself from crying because I want to be strong for my family. She always said I was the glue that held the family together, and I feel as though I need to be strong so they can grieve and have me to talk to, to help them through this. I just don't want to deal with this. I have a hard time believing I am never going to see my mom again, that I am never going to talk to her, touch her, hear her laugh. The last month of her life she was so sick, and I think she knew that she was not long for this life, but she never made this known to me. The last few days she was at home before going back into the hospital she didn't talk much really, slept a lot. Didn't seem to want to carry on any kind of conversation. In return, I tried not to be around her as much because she didn't look herself, she looked sick, and I think I knew, subconsciously, that she was dying, and I refused to face it. Looking at her was so hard for me, I remember telling Phil on several occasions that I felt better when she wasn't home because then I didn't have to face how sick she was. Now, I have regrets. I should have talked to her more, I should have let her know that she could have talked to me openly. However, I believe she just was trying to protect me again. She knew how upset I was, and I think she kept it all to herself. We talked about anything, but this was the only thing I don't think she felt she could talk to me about, and now I feel bad.
The chaplain asked us to tell her about my mom, a favorite memory, her personality. Where do you even start with her. My mother was the kindest, wisest, beautiful, smartest, and caring person I have ever known. She always knew how to fix things, make things better. She had wonderful advice, though I never always took it. She had the best sense of humor, we'd laugh for hours. She loved her family so much. She'd always give and give, and never take anything in return. She always felt she was a burden, but she never was. She never thought she was smart, but she knew so much. She was the best mother. She knew just how to have the perfect relationship with me in being my mother, and my friend at the same time. Honestly, I can look back at my childhood, and as I told her recently, I have no bad memories. We always had fun, she always kept me safe, she always kept me fed and dressed with a roof over my head. She was truly my other half. It was as though we were always attached right at the hip. There was never a day that we didn't see each other, or didn't talk.
The thing I am happiest about is that I was able to give her a beautiful grandchild that was just her whole world these past two years. She was so excited about being a grandma, and when he was born she even shook his hand and told him it was nice to meet him. She said she felt they should have a formal introduction. She was so funny like that. She would do anything for this little boy, her face would just lit up every time she saw him. She wanted to watch him grow up, and she wanted to teach him so many things. He just loves her too, in fact a lot of times he used to call her mama, because was like another mommy to him. The one thing she was most proud of though: he has her nose, and she thought that was so cool..
My aunt said that I am made up of all the best parts of my mom, and I sure hope so. I hope that I can do her proud in my life, and continue on traditions and such that she liked and would want us to do in her place. I hope that I can continue her legacy of being such a good person, who takes care of everyone. I hope I can be just half the mother to my son that she was to me, and that he will live on in her as well.
I just have to figure out now how to live without my other half being with me. Even with all my family and friends around me, I have never felt so alone in my whole life. But, she is no longer suffering. For that, I must be happy that she gets to be with the Lord, be with her father, and other family, and even the baby Phil and I lost a few years ago. I couldn't ask for anyone better to be there taking care of that child until I am able to be reunited with them again someday.
I love you mommy, rest in peace my sweet girl.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Reality
My mom's doctor called us in for a meeting yesterday. While sitting there staring at my mother, with the breathing tube down her throat, the ventilator, the constant kidney dialysis machine running, and so many other tubes and IV wires going into her that I lost count, he told us he is chasing his tail in treating her. They have done everything that they can for her, but even if they can get her off the vent, or her kidneys start to improve, the cancer within her is going to keep growing and spreading. Basically, even if they could get her stable and fix even one or two things that is wrong with her, the cancer is going to take her over anyway because she isn't strong enough for cancer treatments. He asked us, if she could step out of the bed, stand where we were, looking at herself like that, is this what she would want for her? Is this how she'd want to live out her life?
Reality hits you at that moment. At least it did for me. I am always the strong one in the family. Mom always calls me the glue that keeps the family together. As hard as this has been, I keep a strong, brave face when dealing with the family, in person, or in phone calls, because I want to be here for everyone, I want to make this better for everyone who is suffering. Nights are the worst for me, when my husband is working, and my son and dad are asleep, and I am alone in my room. That is when I have my moments, when I break down. I feel like I need to do this in private, although I am not sure why. It isn't like anyone who blame me for breaking down. However, as reality hit me, straight in the face at 9am on a Wednesday morning, I couldn't hold it anymore. I broke. I crumbled. I cried, I couldn't look the doctor in the face, I could no longer hear what he was saying. All I did was look at her, laying there asleep, under heavy sedation, and tried to will her awake. I prayed for a miracle. Her eyes would open, and she would move around, and I kept thinking she was listening to this doctor tell us we had to make a decision on whether to end her life, and how scared she must be, but the doctor said she was under heavy sedation and that she couldn't hear us, or knows what is going on, it is just reflexes.
How do you make that decision, how do you decide if it is time to end someones life, when they aren't in the position to make that decision for themselves? It would be great if she had a living will, where she stated this isn't what she wanted for herself. Even better would be if she had the ability to tell us for herself if she is ready to go home to Jesus. Things go through your mind, what if she would be mad at us? What if she wants to keep holding on? What if she is just screaming inside for us to let her go? And selfishly, I think the main issue is, what do we all do without her?
A few weeks ago my mom had a vision. She was alone in the living room, sitting her in recliner, and she said in front of her a vision came before her. It was a meadow type place, with a big tree. As she approached the tree, underneath was Jesus, and her father. She stood under the tree with them, one of them of each side, and she said Jesus put his arm around her, and stroked her hair, and told her it was okay, he was with her. They were both with her. She told me that if something happens to her, I should take comfort in the fact that she will be under the tree with Jesus and he'll take care of her. I've heard before that people have premonitions. Sometimes people know when things are going to happen to them. Maybe this is a sign she received, to know that she would be in Heaven, and she would safe in Jesus's arms. That her father she loved so much would be with her again taking care of her as well. I suppose that comforts me a bit, knowing that she will be where she wants to be, home with Jesus. She'll have a healthy body, she'll feel no more pain, she'll be happy. It just doesn't seem fair for us, the living. How do I get through a day without her? How do I get through life? Will she watch over me? How do I make decisions without her, or get through a bad day? Who do I talk to, when I really need to confide in someone, when I really need someone to be there for me who understands me like no other?
As much as I have family and friends around me to help me, love me, and support me, I've never been so alone in all my life. And I always will be.
Reality hits you at that moment. At least it did for me. I am always the strong one in the family. Mom always calls me the glue that keeps the family together. As hard as this has been, I keep a strong, brave face when dealing with the family, in person, or in phone calls, because I want to be here for everyone, I want to make this better for everyone who is suffering. Nights are the worst for me, when my husband is working, and my son and dad are asleep, and I am alone in my room. That is when I have my moments, when I break down. I feel like I need to do this in private, although I am not sure why. It isn't like anyone who blame me for breaking down. However, as reality hit me, straight in the face at 9am on a Wednesday morning, I couldn't hold it anymore. I broke. I crumbled. I cried, I couldn't look the doctor in the face, I could no longer hear what he was saying. All I did was look at her, laying there asleep, under heavy sedation, and tried to will her awake. I prayed for a miracle. Her eyes would open, and she would move around, and I kept thinking she was listening to this doctor tell us we had to make a decision on whether to end her life, and how scared she must be, but the doctor said she was under heavy sedation and that she couldn't hear us, or knows what is going on, it is just reflexes.
How do you make that decision, how do you decide if it is time to end someones life, when they aren't in the position to make that decision for themselves? It would be great if she had a living will, where she stated this isn't what she wanted for herself. Even better would be if she had the ability to tell us for herself if she is ready to go home to Jesus. Things go through your mind, what if she would be mad at us? What if she wants to keep holding on? What if she is just screaming inside for us to let her go? And selfishly, I think the main issue is, what do we all do without her?
A few weeks ago my mom had a vision. She was alone in the living room, sitting her in recliner, and she said in front of her a vision came before her. It was a meadow type place, with a big tree. As she approached the tree, underneath was Jesus, and her father. She stood under the tree with them, one of them of each side, and she said Jesus put his arm around her, and stroked her hair, and told her it was okay, he was with her. They were both with her. She told me that if something happens to her, I should take comfort in the fact that she will be under the tree with Jesus and he'll take care of her. I've heard before that people have premonitions. Sometimes people know when things are going to happen to them. Maybe this is a sign she received, to know that she would be in Heaven, and she would safe in Jesus's arms. That her father she loved so much would be with her again taking care of her as well. I suppose that comforts me a bit, knowing that she will be where she wants to be, home with Jesus. She'll have a healthy body, she'll feel no more pain, she'll be happy. It just doesn't seem fair for us, the living. How do I get through a day without her? How do I get through life? Will she watch over me? How do I make decisions without her, or get through a bad day? Who do I talk to, when I really need to confide in someone, when I really need someone to be there for me who understands me like no other?
As much as I have family and friends around me to help me, love me, and support me, I've never been so alone in all my life. And I always will be.
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