Two Years

Two years ago today I rushed to my parents' house knowing full well what was happening. Mom was in pain that they could no longer control and not breathing well. I arrived at their home to find an ambulance already in the driveway. I remember parking in the neighbor's driveway and running into their home to find my mom unable to speak and my dad and aunt in calm but nervous voices telling me that they couldn't take care of her pain anymore and that she had to go to the hospital. She'd been home under hospice care for the past few weeks with all of us taking turns caring for her.

I remember driving behind the ambulance with my dad in the car and letting him out at the ER entrance so he could be with her while I parked. I remember calling my husband and asking him to pray that my mom be released from her pain. I remember all of us trying to frantically find my brother to tell him to come immediately. I remember knowing in a most searing and painful way exactly what was happening.

At my mom's bedside in the emergency room were my dad, myself, my Aunt Carol (my dad's sister), finally my brother, and the minister who my parents were good friends with. My brother nearly collapsed when he came in. I've never in my life seen a grown man cry like he did that day, without any regard for who saw or heard his pain. I remember just holding her hand and stroking her head as they began a morphine drip that slowed her breathing until it stopped. I remember feeling relieved when she finally passed away after so much time spent suffering through her illness. I remember grey skies much like today.

The rest of the next few weeks were just a blur for me. A wake and funeral followed by joyless holidays, making the best of it all for my kids. What I didn't know then was how much I would miss her every single day. At first it just felt like a void, almost unreal. I had dreams where she was very much alive almost every night. Those dreams eventually ended and the reality set in.

My mother, you see, was the most loving and luminous person I have ever known. She was smart, fairminded, generous, and caring. Our family is not the same without her. I have tried to fill some of the emptiness that exists in our family, but I pale in comparison to her. I feel all of my rough edges when I compare myself to her. I feel my selfishness. My mom wasn't perfect, but she was one of those people that you couldn't say many bad things about.

So two years later, I am looking at myself and feeling sorry for myself and feeling angry. Angry is one of the things I do best. It's not always an external anger, but the kind that roils below the surface. I know in my mind that I am more fortunate than many to have had her as long as we did. I hate that I lost something so precious. I hate that it still hurts like it does. I hate that it has changed me. I hate that autumn is now one big season of bad memories. I hate that I feel like I'm sleepwalking through my life. I hate the hole that I can't seem to fill.