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.