August 12, 2014

The situation has resolved itself

Posted in Family tagged , , , , at 2:16 am by msweet42

Yes, it has been a while since I have written.

There was that week where we spent our days talking. Sharing memories. Laughing at things that were only funny to us. Something off to the side always quietly looking for some sign of the disease that was there. Looking to see if it had affected her yet. But, all in all, it was a good week.

I did not come back.

If you want I can give you all kinds of practical reasons. Scheduling. Money. Whatever.

I did not come back because my mother can talk, can laugh, can answer questions about how do you, what is, should I. The woman who lives in my heart composes poems that capture the truths of life into simple phrases.

I monitored her progression to the inevitable end. I listened to the Care Conferences my brother thoughtfully recorded and made available online. I talked to Dad. I spoke with The Brothers. I even got credit for visiting her once when my son visited her and she was convinced it was me. But I did not go back.

Then the phone call. Dad. She’s in a coma. The next call. 3:30 in the morning. Brother. It’s over. She’s gone.

I went back. To see Dad. To see The Brothers. To see my sister. To see my boys.

To remember Mom.

And to have a light lunch prepared by the Ladies of the Church.

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1 Comment »

  1. Mary Ann said,

    Thank you for posting this….

    I remember… my mother as she was, talking, laughing, sharing stories. Always keeping us in the know about what was going on with whom.

    The needlepoint artwork composed during each national disaster, political convention, meaningful moments in her life and the world. Kept her hands busy and her mind focused. She took every detail of every event and sewed it into the fabric, the fabric of life.

    Cookies, ever the cookies. Banana bread. Fresh baked bread. Meatloaf. She knew the way to bind us all together.

    I didn’t go back either. I, too, kept up on every detail. I received a frantic call from Dad, “She’s in a coma, and I can’t get a hold of any of the boys.” Then I, too, received the call in the middle of the night. And still wake up at that time of night, every night, thinking I hear the phone ring. Or I hear mom’s voice comforting me.

    The brothers, formed a bond between them. Know their mother, each in their own way. I know my mother as a daughter’s mother. See her in my motions, my sayings, my interests. I see her in my daughter’s motions, her sayings, her interests. Mom will be remembered with such grace and beauty.

    Mom. What a wonderful person.


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