A Mom Never Leaves Completely

Well, here I thought I might not have a lot to blog about anymore. It's funny that after a year, I still think that once I survive a certain "something" (birthdays, holidays, 1st anniversary of mom's death), it's done and over with and I can move on. It's interesting to me that, even after a year, I still expect there to be finality to grief. No matter how many times other people tell me they still hurt years and years after a loved one dies, I still have this weird belief that at some point, I will stop hurting. I'm coming to terms with the fact that this is not the case. How could it be really? How can you possibly stop hurting for and missing someone you loved? I guess I just thought that it would get easier and easier and then just...stop. The first anniversary of mom's death has proven to me, once again, that is not true.

A year has gone by and the hurt and the pain is definitely different than it was a year ago. However, the anniversary of mom's death brought back VERY strong feelings that I truly did not expect. It reminded me that the loss is still there. The pain is still there. As days go by, the pain subsides, but when events happen that stir up feelings, the pain emerges again. And that is normal and okay. And I, apparently, need to continue to learn this lesson.

This past week was not what I expected. And I am convinced my mom had a large hand in that. Thus, the title of this post. I believe my mom had a hand in how my week played out this week. She is still out there. She is still my mom. And she is still trying to protect me.

She knew this week was going to be hard on me. She didn't want a fuss made over her and she knew I would make one. And she was right. That was my plan. So, I am certain that she arranged for me to have such a busy week that I had no ability to make that fuss. On Tuesday morning, a client's water broke. I expected this to be a quick birth. It was a 2nd time mom. They usually move quickly. Eighteen(!) hours later, her baby was finally born, on the 1st anniversary of my mom's death. And I had made a deal with my mom that I would not drive to the cemetery.

I arrived home around 4:30am on Wednesday. I took a shower. I slept for about an hour and a half. And then I spent the entire day in my pajamas. I NEVER do that. But on this day, I needed to. I shut out the world. I was tired. I was emotional. And I apparently needed to just "be". Thank goodness for friends who have been there before me. One of my close friends shared with me her story of the 1st anniversary of her dad's death and how she spent most of it in her pajamas and in bed. It felt good to realize this was okay.

At 4:00pm, my world started to close in on me. It felt completely out of my control. I felt transported back in time and was standing next to my mom lying in a hospital bed in her living room. The harpist had just left. She told me later that she knew what was happening and felt that it was a private family event and she needed to leave...but she couldn't stop thinking about us. I believe, to this day, that she "played my mom out". Her music was beautiful and I believe mom's soul left her body as the harpist played. And after her soul left, her body was not needed anymore.

Mom's eyes were open, but she was not there. The rattle in her chest was becoming louder and louder. I called hospice who told me that it sounded like "end of life breathing" and I remember saying, "end of life NOW?!". I knew this time was coming, but here it was. Now. And I was lost and confused and scared and didn't know what to do.

Dad had been in the garage and I had Jonathan go get him. He came in and I told him what hospice had told me. They had also suggested that we try to sit mom up so the two of us tried to lift her. It sounded like she was trying to say something, but she was incomprehensible. She sounded like she was drowning. Dad was yelling at her to cough. We were in a panic. Looking back we have both told each other that our heads knew what was happening but our hearts were lost and breaking and we wanted to change the outcome.

I remember looking in mom's eyes. I will forever remember looking in her eyes as she was dying and I told her it was okay to go. I told her we were going to be okay. I told her I loved her. And I knew she was already gone. I knew she wasn't there. But I needed to say good-bye. The last 15 minutes of mom's life were hell for dad and me. It was loud. It was terrifying. We wanted to make it stop.

And then it did.

Her rattle slowed down and became quieter and then simply stopped.

Dad and I looked at each other for confirmation of what we already knew.

And then I searched for a pulse. I crazily searched for a pulse.

But there wasn't one.

It had become eerily silent.

And then dad and I hugged each other. It was over. And for a moment, the world stopped in that place.

And at 5:15pm one year later, my world stopped again, just for a moment, in that place.

At 5:00pm, I found myself locked in the bathroom. It was the only place I could be alone. And I lived those last 15 minutes again. I FELT them. And as the clock on my phone turned to 5:15pm, the tears flowed like they did a year ago. The pain was exactly the same. I hurt SO much. I felt like I was reliving it all.

And then my clock switched to 5:16pm and just like a year ago, I composed myself. I took a deep breath and started moving forward. Last year, that meant making phone calls and taking the first steps in the world without my mom. This year it meant taking the first step into year two.

And I survived the 1st anniversary of my mom's death.

Thursday morning dawned and I was sad. I felt like I was mourning all over again. It wasn't the same as last year, but it was such a stronger feeling than I have had in a long time. I started thinking that Friday would be the day I would go to the cemetery. Ahhhh...but mom had other plans again.

I had another client who had been trying to go into labor every day for a week. I heard from her every morning and late into every night. While I was teaching a class on Thursday night, I heard from her saying her contractions had picked up...again. I had become sort of immune to those texts. I got home around 10pm and by 11pm her husband had called to tell me that things were definitely picking up. It sounded like it might be real this time. And I knew then that mom was involved again. I was still VERY tired from Wednesday and I hadn't fully recovered from the loss of sleep yet from this week. But by 1am, I was back on the road to another hospital. I was actually expecting a long birth this time, but by 8:28am another beautiful baby girl was born into the world and I was home by Noon. Exhausted. Raw. And fully aware that my mom was still having an impact on my life.

Another night of no sleep meant another day of no driving to the cemetery. And so I finished out the week here at home, simply believing that this was the way it was supposed to be.

And now I have this very odd schedule ahead of me. A schedule of NOTHING. I am finishing up a term at school this week and starting a new one on Monday. But I have no classes this week and I have no clients due. I have no clients for the remainder of the year actually and that is troubling. Although I love the idea of not being on call, I also like the idea of eating and paying for rent. I have never had a lack of clients like this so I simply have to believe that things will work out as they should. And believing that my mom still has a hand in things makes me believe that somehow this WILL be okay and it WILL be what it is supposed to be.

I am going to honor this downtime though and let myself experience what I need to experience with it and not worry about what the future holds. Okay...I'll try to do that. I'm not very good at it. But I am still experiencing some strong emotions. Similar to those of this time last year. Just different. Just a year later. But I find myself more in tears than I have been in some time. I find that the leaves turning makes me cry. I find that thinking about holidays makes me cry. I find that hearing about others' family events makes me cry. And I'm starting to accept that I will probably always feel this way to some extent.

I need to re-invent the holidays and I don't really think I'm ready to do that yet. But they will never be the same without my mom and so I can't just do the same things and simply have her be absent. We need to do different things. Part of me just wants to take off and go away, but I don't feel like I can do that because I don't want dad to be alone. But this Thanksgiving is really going to stink because the boys will be with their dad. It will be my first Thanksgiving without them and I am not looking forward to it. So, this Thanksgiving may need to be something significantly different. I just don't know what that looks like yet.

I am realizing that there will always be work to be done. It doesn't end with each holiday survived. It doesn't end with the completion of the first year. Year two continues to hold challenges. The loss changes and evolves. It does not have a beginning and and end. It is forever. And it is something that I will always have in some way or another. And that is okay.

It still shocks me when the feelings come. Maybe that shock will wear off some over the years. Maybe I'll just think, "Oh...here they come again" after a while. Perhaps I'll learn how to just let them come. I guess I'm learning, but this process still seems so new to me. But I'm better at it than I was a year ago. And I have survived a year without my mom. I will survive the next one too.

But I do know that you never can entirely lose your mom. I just don't think it's impossible. I carry her with me in so many things that I think and do. She and I were very different in many ways, but there are some things that are so incredibly similar and when I find myself thinking a certain way or doing a certain thing, I have to laugh because she is still here with me. And she is still looking out for me. She is still pulling some of the strings in my life. I'm not completely pleased about that, but in some ways it is comforting too. Your mom is always your mom, whether she is physically here or not. That kind of relationship can never fully go away.

I miss my mom though. I miss having a mom. She and I had our differences, but the bottom line was that she was my mom. And a girl can't talk to anyone the way she talks to her mom. And I don't have that anymore. And the reality of knowing that I will live the rest of my life this way is painful sometimes. I want that relationship back. I am jealous of others that have it. And, again, I suppose this is normal. All daughters find themselves in this situation sooner or later. I guess I just always thought it would be later. I know that many people lose their moms much earlier in their lives. I know I'm not alone in all these feelings. But they still hurt. And I still get angry about it sometimes. And I simply just miss having my mom to talk to.

I expect that this time of year will always hold these kinds of feelings. I expect that October will always be a time of reflection for me. I see that now, although I didn't see it coming. Next year, I'll be more prepared...maybe. But what I have been reminded of this year is that grief is not finite. It is fluid, constantly moving, constantly changing. Forever.

Perhaps that is what this blog will be as well. :-)