grrlTravels

When time stops

Around 7:05 pm EST yesterday time stopped for me. At least looking back that's the way it felt at the time. A bit earlier, I was on the phone, trying to decide if I should rush to my Aunt's house to be with my mom. My aunt lives an hour from my house, and I had an important meeting with the funeral director scheduled for the next morning. Could I wait to go to my Mom until the next day? My aunts, her caretakers, were becoming more and more certain that my mom was going to die soon, probably that night. Her decline was precipitous, all right, but I could not imagine that her body would give out so quickly.

The call came when I was sitting in the parking lot of a local restaurant. I guess you never get the call in a place that seems appropriate. I was glad that my aunt had called. My cousin who is a nurse was coming over and would assess the situation and give me her thoughts on how soon it would be. My aunt said, "She's gone," and it took a moment to register what she meant.

My Mom died peacefully in bed, surrounded by my aunts and cousins. There were many people in the room with her. They had been reading scripture, and were singing to my Mom. They told me she smiled and then stopped breathing.

And now the world feels much larger and scarier than it did a few days ago. I feel like an orphan, adrift in the world, without an anchor. Your mother is certainly a central person in your life. To be without one seems unnatural.

The death of my mother makes me want to be a better mother for E. and the daughter we await. It makes me want to leave a good legacy for my children. It makes me want to fill this big hole left in me with something, but there really isn't anything to replace your mother.