One Month Ago….

 Things went sideways.

It started two days earlier with a group text my mom sent: My iPad is dying.

It was 5:30 am Thursday February 1. Part of me was rolling my eyes, thinking “so dramatic “ while another part of me wondered what my mom was really saying. She had a habit and history with saying something and meaning something else entirely.  She went on to say she was having trouble breathing and going to the doctor later. I was getting ready to drive to the office and wondered if I needed to stay back. 

Nothing was asked, so I went in as scheduled.

Later, she pinged us all again letting us know she went to the doctor, she has pneumonia, and she’s on medication and an inhaler.

Good, I think.

Then she goes on to say the nurse helped her walk to her car, she was so out of breath and so grateful for the help.

TF mom? 

This is the inflection point of the story; this is the part we all came back to, after. Why didn’t she get admitted to the hospital? Why was she driving herself around? Why?

She had been telling us for months she was ready. She had COVD a year ago around her birthday and hadn’t really felt good since. She had been struggling since October with back pain. She was going to need to move out of her beloved apartment while her building was being renovated—something she dreaded. Finally, she’s been missing my dad a very long time. The last time I saw her, around Christmas, she said, “I tell God every day, take me, Lord, I am ready when you are.”

So there was no stinking way she was going to admit herself to the hospital. She was doing a Paulie with her doctor, presenting as healthier than she actually was. She was done, she was telling us she was done, but I don’t think we were listening.

I was listening, but I thought we—she—had more time.

So when my phone blew up while I was attending a training on mental health support, I knew it was time.

They found her that morning, sitting in her favorite chair, snuggled under her favorite blanket, tea cooled on the table next to her chair. Her glasses were on, and she looked as though she were thinking and about to say something.

Except it was dark. The pilot light was out.

And just like that, we’re orphans.

I woke up the next morning with an incredible feeling of peace. Mom and I did not have the best relationship here on earth, but I had a strong sense that wherever she is, she gets me now, and there’s no regrets or hard feelings, on either side.

And for me, knowing she’s finally with my dad again makes my heart happy.

But I keep wanting to text her. Or see if she liked a post or picture I put on social media.

On the other hand, my last times with her are etched in my memory in a way my last times with my dad were not. We had a great time together at my sister’s house before Christmas; we spent time together on Christmas Day, and I dropped some Stock’s pound cake off with her a couple days after Christmas. She shared a Halupki recipe with me over text a couple days later.

Her departure for me is a little like a phone left off the hook. If I didn’t see her with my own two eyes, I’d not believe it happened.

But it did. She’s a memory now.

A good one.