I found out mom had brain cancer on December 7th, the same day I was laid off from my job. She had some ups and downs, but generally declined steadily. She’d been unconscious for a few days, according to my sister. My sister called today, and said that the visiting nurses and aides suggested mom be moved to hospice. We hung up when the doorbell rang, signalling the aide was there.
At about 11:00 this morning I headed out to do errands. New car tags, return a video, mail a package… and send a document stating that I approve cremation when mom dies. After that I headed to Bellingham where I dropped an old cell phone off at a women’s shelter, gave some video shelves to friends, and then hung out watching videos. I went to KFC for dinner, and had to wait 15 minutes for the biscuits.
When I got home a little after 20:00 there were five messages on my answering machine and one on my mobile phone, which I hadn’t taken with me. I called my sister. Mom died at 12:30 today Arizona time. 11:30 here. The aide and my sister were turning mom in her bed. Mom’s head was in my sister’s arms. Then she just stopped breathing. She ‘died peacefully in her sleep’.
I’m sad that mom died. But the shock hit December 7th. I’m not glad that mom’s gone, but I am glad that she’s no longer in pain. My sister said mom would grimace in her sleep, and when she was unconscious. Mom told me that her back pain was excruciating, and she wished it were over. She’d been very lonely since her husband died a year ago New Year’s Eve. She was ready to go.
It is hard to understand how we can be in mourning for a person that few of us actually met. Yet I followed her progress and I was felling happy for her when the news was good or sad when bad, now it is a sad time also for me. I am terribly sorry Johnny, let me now if there is something I can do to help, remember I live close by in Phoenix.
Johnny, I’m so sorry for your loss. I know this has been a very trying time for you, and I’m sending all my best wishes toward you. Things have got to start looking up soon.
I don’t know whether to say I’m sorry you weren’t with her or glad. I didn’t know my dad was gone until I got a phonecall but I was with my mom. Either way is damn hard.
She’s at peace now and it sounds like it was easy for her when it came. That’s the best any of us can hope for. I’m sorry for the pain you feel but I can’t be sorry that her’s is gone.
I sent up a little prayer for you. Mostly, I asked for strength and solace. Take care of yourself.
Echoing the thoughts of the other, mate. Anything I can say here will seem trite. It’s not been a good time for you, but things have to be looking up from here. I’m glad your mum went peacefully, and that the pain is gone.
Most people go through it, but it’s a unique experience, losing a mom. When my mom finally died from a degenerative disease she’d suffered from for several years, it was bittersweet, like you describe. I was glad she wasn’t suffering anymore. After the initial shock and grieving that she was really gone, I started corresponding with my siblings and friends from my childhood - all of whom had fantastic stories of my zany, wild mom. Some were new stories to me and others were recountings of times when I was there, but they added a new perspective or details I didn’t know. I still see things I want to tell her about, life experiences I know would make her laugh. But she lives on through me - through memories, through my personality and take on the world, through how I raise my daughter.
The card was only a reminder of what she already knew. You don’t need to tell a mother that you love her, and you still do. And now you’ve both found the release from what’s been hanging over your heads for a long time.
