For years, I have spoken with my mom every single day.
We would call one another multiple times in a 24-hour period and exchange the mundane and raw stuff in our lives.
You know, the ridiculous information that people
don’t really want to hear about when they ask how you are…. like if you feel emotionally drained, or if your tummy hurts, or what you ate for dinner.
Each of these things my mom was genuinely interested in, straight down to the fact that I under-salted my potatoes.
I truly believe that the interest in what someone is eating or making is a genetic trait of my mother’s bloodline. I also carry this trait.
Beyond that, I would discuss the complaints of the day; the things the kids were doing to annoy me, and the things they were doing to make me laugh.
She offered advice and comfort and opinions on everything I shared – and exchanged similar information with things that were going on in her own life.
With the decline of her health, we began to talk less frequently. She wasn’t interested in long conversations because she was constantly exhausted and not feeling well
I didn’t want to burden her with the insignificant things when considering all that she had to bear.
First, we decreased to once a day check-ins.
And slowly, once a day became every other day.
And then, every other day became once every three days.
Every three days became once a week.
Each time, I was forced to adjust to the change.
I learned that I didn’t need to complain about every little thing the kids did.
I didn’t need to tell my mom that Meredith drew on the wall with chalk.
I didn’t need to tell my mom that Lucas packed up all of his toys in various suitcases and pretended to drive to Grammy’s (her/my mom’s) house.
And I didn’t need to tell my mom that I burned my black-eye peas.
Then come October, too many days had passed and I hadn’t spoken to my mother.
Her health had continued to decline and she had been in the hospital. First with pneumonia, which then led to a string of other problems.
Tests and medications were thrown around like confetti after New Year’s, and the family was left confused.
Why isn’t Grammy herself?
Why won’t Grammy eat?
Why doesn’t Grammy want to get up?
Family faithfully visited.
Family faithfully tried to get her to eat…to be positive…. to have faith for the future.
Two weeks passed, and I was distraught that I hadn’t talked to my mom.
I had made it through two weeks of day-to-day life without a single person caring what I had to eat.
Instead, I continued to wonder what my mom had eaten.
And despite everyone’s efforts, her appetite was scarce. She wasn’t even eating her typical diet of Jello anymore.
After much pushing from family, and talking to her on the phone, I finally broke down and drove the two hours to visit her in the hospital.
My heart was full of dread as I rode the elevator to the top floor.
I had been full of sadness for her for so, so long.
I had shed many tears for her.
But once stepping in the room, it took every ounce of my being not to cry.
I wasn’t sure how I had been told that she was doing "good".
I recognized immediately that
my mother was no longer there.
The woman laying there was not the one who had supported me and scolded me.
She was not full of the strength I had admired.
She was reminiscent of an
infant: needy and weary.
I brought her soup from a nearby restaurant that she did not want to eat.
She only wanted rest.
Our visit was as long as I could tolerate at the time without crying in front of her.
Our visit was a lot shorter than she truly deserved.
That evening after putting the kids to bed, I finally found the quiet time to let go.
I fought with God and questioned how things had reached this point and why the intense suffering was necessary.
I begged him to please take my mom home.
She was so weak.
She deserved much better, and if all the prayer wasn’t healing her then there was one thing left to do….
Let go.
Five days later, my prayer was answered.
My mom took her last breath on Halloween.
I no longer have my confidant and friend.
Although my heart if aching, my heart is also at ease because she is finally without pain.
I no longer have to worry about what she is eating.
I know she is being fed.
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