A daughter who loses her mother truly becomes unmoored. It's as true today as it was the day she passed. More than a year ago today, I woke up to a call from the facility that was caring for my mother in her final days. It was time, she was transitioning out of this life. I started my day like any other, get up get dressed -- don't lose it -- and help my little boy get ready for school. After a discrete call to the school to let them know that my boy would be late so he good say goodbye to his grandmother we drove. Something in me felt that he needed the closure and though he was only just six, I stand by that decision.
She was the light of his life and that light was about to go out forever. I had been honest with him every step of the way. Her battle lasted years and I never wavered in answering every question he had and encouraging him to talk with not only myself and my husband about his feelings but with her. They were the saddest of conversations but they were filled with very special loving moments. There is no doubt that my mother knew the love of her beautiful grandson and the mark that she left in his heart.
Mom wasn't lucid and did not open her eyes that day. My boy made me stop for her favorite donut at that time, creme filled -- she would never eat it. Her donut sat in front of her, his in his mouth between sentences and repeated offerings of the heart shaped creme filled donut he brought her. It was a difficult visit. Thinking back on that day, I have a new appreciation for the strength of a mother's love. I knew that my mother was dying before my eyes but I had to hold it together for my son. My mother did that very selfless thing countless times in her life for her children. In the moment it felt impossible, I wonder how we come to have such strength. Possibly it is just nature...but probably it is instilled in us through the love and devotion of our mother.
I had yet to tell my son that this was it, this was the very last moment. I wanted him to have one last chance to whisper in his Grammy's ears, all the things in his little heart -- the things a six year old finds important to tell his Grammy about his day to come and the sports he was playing and how much he loved her. To this day, the most heartbreaking moments are the ones when I can see in his eyes that he is missing his Grammy. It is beyond my ability to make this better for him. He wants his Grammy. She is gone. I want her too.
After a gut-wrenching goodbye from my boy and a whispered promise in her ear that I would be right back, please wait for your family, they are coming -- I drove my son to school. I don't remember the drive there or back but I remember talking to my son as I always did after a visit, reminding him how special he was to his Grammy and that he may not see her again. This wasn't a new conversation, he understood it, in the way that a six year old boy who has lost his dog to doggy heaven understands it. I would wait until that evening to tell him everything, he would go to school, learn and play and be six. I would fall into a violent sea, created by a wretched storm that carries on and on.
When I returned to my mother's room, panicked that I was not there for her in her final moment, she was surrounded by family -- two daughters, a nephew, sister-in-law, grandchild and her life's love. She was still with us. We quietly traded places over and over. Each struck with unbearable grief. I remember feeling that though we were all there, I was alone and though we talked quietly with each other and we were not alone, the loneliness I felt in my soul was startling. Not long after I arrived my husband arrived. And finally my last sibling. I sat by my mother's side and held her hand in mine over her heart, counting the beats and measuring the breaths, whispering in her ear that it was time. We were all by her side, it was okay to let go and finally find peace.She did.
It was the calm before the storm. A storm that continues to rage inside my heart and soul. So often you hear people say, it gets better...in time it will be easier...you won't always feel the grief so profoundly...
In truth, the storm rages on and though you get used to it -- it still hits you like a wave thrashing against the shore.
--A Daughter Unmoored
