My Mom

On Monday afternoon, July 13th, I was at Julie's house with the kids and I got the call.  A panicked call from my Dad that my Mom was in an ambulance on the way to the hospital.  She couldn't catch her breath so he called 911.  It wasn't the first time this had happened yet it felt different.  It felt urgent.  I told him I would drive to Houston immediately.  The kids and I left Julie's house as quickly as possible and on the way back to the apartment I made arrangements for Wrigley.  I packed bags for all of us in a hurry, threw the kids in the car, dropped Wrigley off at the dog sitters house and then we were on our way.  I still wish I had been able to do all of that in less time.  It was the longest drive of my life.  Getting updates from my Dad along the way, I also talked to Frank a few times on the phone, and we were both a bit confused about how serious it was.  When we were about 45 minutes away, something hit me.  She was gone.  I just knew it.  I felt it.  I prayed I was wrong but something told me that when I got there, I would not get to say goodbye.  I prayed and prayed that I was making it all up in my head but I also knew that my Dad wouldn't tell me while I was driving there. 

When we arrived my heart was pounding.  Thank goodness Misty was there to take the kids so I could go up with my Dad.  My mind was racing and I was just staring at him as we walked, waiting for him to say those words to me.  When they finally came out, I just screamed.  I knew it.  I knew it.  I didn't get to say goodbye. I wanted to be there.  I wanted to BE THERE.  But she was gone.

The next few hours were awful.  Seeing her -- saying goodbye.  When Frank arrived and I had to watch him go through what I had gone through just an hour before.  Watching the pain my Dad was going through. Calling John to tell him.  Calling Mark to tell him he needed to fly home.  It was all just SO AWFUL.

I cursed the timing.  One of the reasons for coming to Texas was so that we could spend more time with her.  So that I could be helpful in some way.  And we were there 2 weeks.  TWO WEEKS.  I saw her ONE TIME.  I was angry.  So angry that it happened this way.  That we had so little time and that I didn't even get there to hold her warm hand and tell her how much I loved her before she passed.

That week was the longest of my life.  On little sleep, sick from the pregnancy and emotionally drained.  It was the most trying time I've experienced ever.  But as the week progressed, and family and friends came together and we shared stories and laughter and love in the midst of all this pain, it was, dare I say, healing.  She isn't suffering anymore.  She isn't tied to her bed, struggling to breathe, struggling to eat, struggling to live.  It was no way to live and I know that.  I think from the very beginning of her diagnosis, she did not want to drag it out.  She did not want intervention.  And I think she was extremely brave for being so strong in those decisions. 

When she passed and my Dad and I were alone with her in the hospital room, a woman from the church came in to pray for her and pray with us.  It was beautiful.  Before she left and my Dad was out of the room, she held my hand and said "Ask your mother to come to you in your dreams.  And she will."  So I did.  Before we said goodbye that night, I asked her to visit me in my dreams.

It's been almost 3 months since she's been gone.  A couple of weeks ago, she came.  I was sitting next to her at a table in a restaurant.  She was wearing a white long sleeve sweater.  She looked beautiful.  She looked like she did 20 years ago -- red wavy hair, her face was full and healthy.  I could SMELL her perfume.  I'm one of those weird people that knows in their dreams, that they are dreaming.  So I knew, looking at her, that I was dreaming and I just told her how sorry I was that I wasn't there.  That I missed her. That I loved her.

I've been thinking about that dream a lot lately.  Usually when I'm alone in my car and driving.  I try to remember exactly what we said to each other in that dream, how she smelled.  And little by little, it's fading.  I hope she comes again.

I think a lot about this baby and how he will never know her.  I never knew my Grandma on my Mom's side because she died before I was born, and that always made me sad.  I hope that Jacob and Maddie grow up to have memories of her and that they can share them with their little brother.  I'm glad I had a chance to tell her that he was coming though.  I imagine her watching over this little guy in my belly, making sure he's growing just right.  This baby will be what I was to her.  Her 3rd child, separated by quite a few years.  She and I were buddies -- it was just us a lot of the time when I was little as my brothers were off doing their own thing.  She and I could spend hours upon hours at the mall, shopping, eating, doing nothing really.  And even though I was a total spoiled brat, she always showed me how much she loved me, how proud she was and constantly told me that I was beautiful, inside and out. 

I miss you mom.  Just wish I could lay in that bed with you one more time and hold your hand.