Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day

My Mother passed away on July 31, 1998. It was the worst day of my life. I was standing at her bedside in the hospital's critical care ward holding her limp hand. I watched her face. She didn't speak. Her eyes were open and she moved them around but I wasn't sure if she understood what I was saying. She looked scared and confused. With a soft moan, she would move occasionally as if she was in discomfort and pain. I told her how much I loved her and how much she meant to me. I recounted stories of our times together. Tears filled my eyes as I continued to speak, hoping, but not knowing, that I might be giving her some comfort.

She looked right at me, then her eyes closed gently and the alarms went off. I was silent. I watched as her whole body seemed to sink flat on the bed. Nurses came running. One of them slowly took my hand from my Mom's and started moving me away. I gave no resistance. I backed up through the door never taking my eyes off my Mom. And there I was in the hallway watching through the glass wall of the critical care room as they tried to revive her. After about ten minutes they gave up. My Mom was dead.

I am a believer that the human body is just a receptacle for the spirit. There was no reason to stay there anymore. I walked down the hall toward my step-father. Our eyes met. There were no words exchanged as a walked by. He knew and rushed toward her. I just kept walking. Outside, my brother and sister were sitting on the curb. Without stopping, I said simply, "She's gone." And I kept walking to my car.

I drove the few miles, tears streaming down my face, straight to my eleven year old Daughter who was in a Summer Youth Program. I took her away with me and told her the news. We both cried but I took it a lot harder than she, so, for the most part, she comforted me. I couldn't have made it through without her.

No one could miss anyone more than I miss my Mother. I truly believe that she was the only person who ever understood me and who I am. Maybe it is because we were so alike in so many ways. We shared so many beliefs. No insult intended to my brother and sister, and my Mom would have never admitted it, but I was her favorite child. It was because I was special to her. I was her first child and she knew that she had passed more of herself to me than the others. I am proud to be so like her.

It has been nearly eight years now but I still miss her every day. I wish time had healed this wound, but, on the contrary, it has gotten worse.

I LOVE YOU, MOM! I MISS YOU! HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

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