The last time mom was awake was 7 PM last night. She can hear us and shakes her head when we ask her questions like “Are you in pain? Are you comfortable? Can you hear us? Do you know we love you?”
It’s real today. This is really happening. It’s not a bad dream. This is real. And, I’m not ready – and I keep repeating that in my mind. I’m not ready to let her go. I’m not ready to loose her.
She’s not talking. She’s not eating. She’s not drinking. She’s grunting. She shakes her head. She gets restless. She’s on morphine. She’s on Ativan. And she looks comfortable and relaxed.
She’s not even gone and I miss her so much. Today, I said I wanted it to be over. But that’s not true. I don’t want it to be over, because when it’s over she’s not here. Because when it’s over she’s not coming back. Because when it’s over, it’s over. And I don’t know what it feels like to not fight this disease with her. I don’t know what normal feels like. And it will never be normal.
She’s my mom. She’s my best friend. She’s my everything. I call her millions of times. I fight with her when she tells me I’m wrong. I laugh with her when she says something stupid.
The thing is though, we lost her a long time ago. But, it doesn’t feel like that today. It feels new. It feels like this all just happened. It feels real – and I’m not ready for real. We aren’t ready for real.
We planned her arrangements today. At 24 years old, how do you come to terms with picking out a burial site, a casket, a funeral? How do you do it and not feel like it’s wrong?
This is all wrong. This is not how our story was supposed to go. My heart is breaking and my world it’s crashing.
I’ve been stowik, just like my mom. I’ve taken control of all of her care, just like she would have done. And as I hear myself and see myself, I see I’m more like my mom than I ever thought or knew. I hold myself together until I break. And I break when it’s quiet and I think people can’t see me. I cry then. And I’m sure that’s when mom has cried, when no one was watching.
And now we have nurses who are here all the time. They’ve already become our family. We treat them just like our friends and family. Our house has been full of love and life these past couple of days. And as each day gets worse, our friends and family stay longer, take care of us more, spend more time with mom, and keep us sane.
Today is a week, a week since we brought her home. We made it seven days. And each day gets harder for her and us.
She told us she wrote a letter. She wrote a letter and she doesn’t understand why it’s taking so long to get answered. She hasn’t received anything back and she just doesn’t understand why. Why haven’t they answered her letter?
Mom is ready, and if she’s ready, we’ll be ready. But that doesn’t mean we want to be. That doesn’t mean that we all don’t have a little denial in us. That doesn’t mean that we don’t think about the moment it happens and how it’s going to make our knees buckle.
So, mom, I’m so proud of you. I’m so thankful that for all my life we’ve had such a close relationship. I’m so thankful that you became my best friend during my teenage years. I’m so grateful to have learned how to be the best mother from you. I’m so happy you are my mom. I’m so in love with the person you are. You will always be my best friend, my mom, my shadow, my angel and my rock. Just as you have been all my life. I love you more than words can say.
And, we’ll be okay. Dad and I will be okay. It will be different and for a while it will feel like it’s a dream and it’s not real. But you’ll never leave us. You’ll always be here. You’ll always tell me when I’m wrong, and you’ll always give me the strength I need when I am weak.
I love you so much, Mom.