Thirteen years

Wow. Hard to believe it's been that long. What is it they say, "Time heal's all wounds". Whatever. I disagree.

Thirteen years ago today I stood next to my Mother in her hospital bed. She'd been delirous since the day before and we knew it would end soon. My step-dad made the decision to remove the oxygen tube from her nose, knowing that she wouldn't be able to take enough oxygen in on her own.

I'm sure they'd talked about what she would want done in "the end". I have no doubt, now that I'm a wife myself, that they had discussions of how long she would want to go on in the state she was in.

At the time though I didn't realize that. I was hurt and angry that my step-dad wouldn't let her have the oxygen. She grabbed at her face, in what I thought was an attempt to put the tube back. It was by far the most difficult thing I have ever watched.

And then she was gone.

The chaplain came in to pray with us. As we all gathered around her bed, I remember looking over at my little sister and seeing the confusion in her eyes. I remember standing on the left side of my Mother, holding her hand. She'd had surgery days before and there was an area on her side that was bandaged. I remember it started to ooze as we prayed. I covered it up, dabbing at the blood coming from under the bandage. I needed to take care of her. To be sure she was whole.

And then we left.

Just two days prior we stood in her room laughing and joking. She was in good spirits and was feeling well. The elderly lady in the room next to her coded and doctors and nurses from all over the Cancer Treatment Center were paged to her room. Her family gathered outside of the room, watching them work inside on their loved one. I remember my Mother telling us to shut the door. She didn't want the family to see that we were happy in our own little world. She wanted to respect that they were hurting.

Two days later it was us in that situation. Only there was no code. No rush of doctors and nurses. No heroic measures to keep her on this earth. Just a quiet group of family, all sobbing silently, watching our favorite person pass on without us.

I was 19 years old. Too young to lose a Mother. Still in need of guidance from her. I've grown up some since then. Become a wife and Mother myself. Countless times I've needed her. Needed to ask her a question on raising my children or being a wife. Needed to tell her of accomplishments or disappointements that have come my way. Needed her to care for me when I was sick. Needed her support when I didn't think I could make it through.

Thirteen years. Wow.