Grieving is Part of the Process

It's been a while since I've made a post. We had a good Thanksgiving and a very nice Christmas. Santa was more than generous to our boys and they were spoiled by family too. Life was everything I could ask for. I wish I could say the same thing about my new year.

Sunday, December 28, 2008 started off as any other Sunday would. We got up and got ready for church. John usually takes care of the boys and gets them dressed for church so I can have a few minutes of extra sleep. Yeah, he overslept. We were fussing. The boys were playing with Mom (Grammie). Mom was fussing at John because he forgot to something for her the night before. I went in and talked to Mom. It was a typical Sunday morning at our house. We finally got ready to leave. The boys hugged and kissed Grammie. I did as I always did when I left. "Bye Mom. I love you! See you after church." "I love you too baby girl. See you later." If only I knew then what I know now.

We went to church. After church we stopped to see my aunt who is in the nursing home. She was in rare form. I always call Mom to tell her how Flossie is doing, when she doesn't go with us. Today was no exception. She didn't answer. Nothing uncommon. Mom would leave her phone on the bed when she got up, despite me fussing at her to take it with her in case something happened. She would sleep with it under her pillow. Something was different this time. I felt this pit in my stomach. I knew something was wrong. I called her about 20 times on the way home. I rushed through town. I knew we were going to the hospital and didn't want to get the boys out, so John ran in and called me. He told me he thought she was breathing but she was unconscious. I made him come back out and get the boys out and flew into the house.

When I got to her room, part of me knew that this was the end, but I was in denial. I thought she was breathing too, but when I removed her oxygen, I felt how cold she was and she was blue. John came in and we started CPR on her while I called 911. They got here and worked on her for about 20 minutes. Looking back, I know it was simply to make us feel better. They finally left with her. I got to the hospital and the EMT told me she didn't make it. We were taken into the "death room" and slowly my siblings started gathering. My pastor took our boys so John could be with me and we went to see her. She was so cold. All I could do was cry. The next day we went to plan her funeral. I feel like we lived at the funeral home for nearly 3 days. I had to be with her.

Please let me stop and explain a bit before I go on. I am a Christian. I believe in Heaven and salvation. I know where my mom is. I grieve for the what if's, what should've beens, what could bes. My mother went through so much in her live and I know she is sitting with Jesus enjoying her new legs (amputee) , and drinking as much water as she wants (CHF - fluid restriction). I grieve for ME - MY loss. I grieve for my boys and their loss. I grieve for my husband's loss because she was more of a mother to him than anyone had ever been. I grieve knowing my future children will never get a chance to know this extraordinary woman.

It's been two weeks now and it still feels like she should be coming home any moment. In my head I know she isn't coming back, but sometimes I get lost in thought and forget. This is the longest I've ever been away from her. When we go out somewhere I still feel like I should be calling to check on her. I've had 3 miscarriages and suffered other losses too, but this is, by far, the hardest thing I've ever had to face in my life. My mom was my best friend. She was BB's best friend too. In my entire life, I don't think I spent more than 30 days away from her. This is the longest I've ever been away from her. It's different and each day has it's challenges. She will forever live in our hearts and I know we will see her again when this life is no more. I try to hold on to that hope. It's hard though. I don't think I'll ever look at the new year the same way again. My New Year's Eve was spent in the grave yard at the burial service of my Mom.