My mother died on Sunday, March 12, at 3:40 a.m. I haven't really felt like writing about it until now. It has taken some time to digest my thoughts and feelings. Mother had entered the nursing home on Wednesday, March 8, and I arrived Thursday, having only planned for a long weekend visit. As it turned out, I drove into my home town that Thursday afternoon, went straight to the nursing home and didn't leave for more than a short time until she died. What occurred there was an intensely personal experience I will never forget.
When I arrived, Mom knew me, knew I was there, and from the moment I kissed her hello, I felt she was in the very last stages of her life. My sister from Michigan arrived the next day, as she had also planned a visit, and of course my sister Ronda, my mother's rock and best friend, was there all the while. I can never repay Ronda for the loving care she provided for my mother in the last months of her life. She also provided a model that enabled me to be with my mom in a way that I can be sure she knew, in those last hours of her life, that I loved her.
Driving home after the days that followed, I distinctly remember having the thought that with my mom gone, I now represent the oldest generation in the family, the group that's "in charge." I married very young, had my daughter at 20, and spent the years following her birth working my butt off to keep body and soul together and trying my best to be a good mother. I didn't attend college until I was 41, and have only recently started a real career. Having all that other stuff to do earlier, sometimes I feel I've just barely begun to figure out who I am and how I'm supposed to "turn out."
Good grief. I don't feel half wise or experienced enough to be in charge of much of anything, but time doesn't wait for us to be ready, it just moves forward and the chips fall.
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.
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3 comments:
Dearest Prairiehomie,
I was very moved to read this post. There is nothing I can say that would feel appropriate right now. You say that you feel like a motherless child, and that is such a thing to say, it it so profound, especially after your loss. I wish I could make you feel that you are not alone in this world, I hope you know that.
Thank you, Gypsy, and with kind souls like yours in the world, yes, I do know.
Blessings to you Rosie. I was by my mom's side, too, when she traveled onward. It was, at the same time, the sweetest and the hardest moment of my life.
God be with all of us motherless children.
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