Tuesday, December 11, 2012

The Trade: Completed

The trade is completed... My Mom is gone. She gave up her fight yesterday, went to be with her daughter, her grandsons, her father, her nephew... I find myself wondering how much pain one family can endure before things begin to come apart at the seams. My mom buried so many people and experienced so many tragedies in her life. It isn't right for one person to go through so much. This is what made me so angry in her last months - she should have had more happiness, or she at least should not have had to experience such a terrible death as she did if she had to experience so much pain in life. How many women in their fifties have had to bury their father, two grandsons, a daughter, and a nephew, among others?

I feel like I have so much to say... But, I can't think of what I want to say. The kids are already back to arguing and fighting. Jake didn't even take the day off of school. He said he couldn't afford to miss it, but I think he just didn't want to sit around the house all day. I can't blame him, it's already driving me a little crazy.

People keep saying they're heartbroken over this... I'm not. That sounds harsh, but the fact is, my heart has been broken over and over again, and last year, it shattered... It never healed. So it couldn't exactly break again while it was already broken still. I feel numb, to an extent. There are so many mixed emotions. Numbness, exhaustion, anger, brokenness, gulit, sadness, relief...

She was hurting so badly. She's not anymore. I don't have to wonder anymore, when her last breaths will be, what her last day on earth will be like for her. Her husband of 38 years kissed her forehead good morning, told her he loved her, laid back down to try and get a few more moments of rest, and listened as she took her last breaths. I'm so thankful that she wasn't alone, and that the voice of a man who loved her, telling her he loved her, was the last thing that she heard. I'm also thankful that he has the closure of knowing that the last words he said to her were the words that everyone hopes to be able to say last to their loved ones, and that everyone hopes to hear last. "But, I'm thinking of what Sarah said - that love is watching someone die." If that's true, my father has proven his love for my mother to me. I wish that everyone could experience a love so selfless and pure in their lifetime. Yes, in thirty-eight years together, they had their hard times. Of course. Every couple does. But, when she really needed him, when it really, truly mattered, he was there for her every step of the way.

Which is more than I can say. I had distanced myself. I wasn't strong enough to watch her die. I know that it might have been different if I wasn't pregnant. I might have been able to do it, but I was so afraid I would stress too much and it would hurt the baby, that I pulled away. I barely went into her room, and if she was asleep, I tried not to wake her. I should have woken her up sometimes, just to tell her that I loved her. I should have gone in there more, to see her and talk to her. She had gotten so bad and it hurt so much. I know that no one blames me. Except me. I know that she knows how much I loved her, how much she meant to me, but that doesn't change the fact that I wish I had done some things differently. I wish I had been stronger. I wish I had been a better daughter. It's not a chance I'm going to get again. I don't think that anyone can lose someone without having regrets. Maybe someone can, but I sure haven't managed it.

Maybe my heart is breaking. How can it feel like it's breaking and like there's nothing left to break all at once?

I'm so relieved that she isn't hurting anymore. And that Jamie didn't have to experience her last months, and didn't have to be here for her death. But, I'm so sad... I wanted this. I wanted her to be done suffering, I didn't want her to have to feel it anymore. It doesn't seem right that something I wanted, something I knew in my heart was the right thing, can be so painful.


  1. I wish I knew the "right" words. Just know that I'm thinking about you and your family and sending tons of love your way.

  2. You are right. I think there are always regrets. I've always had them, especially with my grandma who was closer than my mom. But in healing I had to start letting them go.

    I'm sitting here imagining your dad with her, just in complete awe. So... Beautiful in sorrow. I can only hope my last moments would be so quiet and filled with peace and love.