21 March, 2014 06:05

I can't sleep. The last two days I've had a horrible headache that won't go away. I'm sure part of it is because of this rush of memories that keeps coming back to me.

I was about to get in the shower that morning when I got the call that they had to call an ambulance for Mom. She had never moved from the couch the night before and still couldn't move on her own. I knew it was bad because Mom would never consent to an ambulance if she was alert enough to do so.

I went over to the hospital and waited. She was stable, but I could tell she was very confused. They took her for some tests. I went with her, and they had to have me help her get on the table for the CT scan. She seemed confused as to what to do but seemed to be ok as long as I stayed there.

They decided to admit her and continue running more tests. We knew she had cirrhosis, for which she had just had surgery. On top of that, they discovered she had lymphoma. We were unsure what was causing her to be so weak and confused at this moment and so were the doctors.

I've been around hospitals and doctor's offices enough to know when they are avoiding telling you something. I could see it in their eyes. Nurses would come in, look at her chart, and look at me with a sympathetic look and walk on by. There were things they couldn't tell me, maybe because they honestly didn't know, but I could tell they knew.

I think deep down, somewhere, I knew too. I just didn't want to admit it. I was holding out hope. I mean, surely God wouldn't let this happen, right? He had already taken my dad from me when I was 12. I only ever got to know one grandparent, and God took her when I was 13. Surely He wouldn't take my mom from me when I'm just 25...right? I mean, Kensley was just 3 months old. She needs to grow up and know her grandma Sue. It just wouldn't be fair, and besides, I couldn't handle this without her...

I was in and out of her ICU room that day. The last time, I brought Amanda with me. We just sat there and watched some TV - a college basketball game since the tournament was on. Mom joked, "Oh sure, you're just using me for the TV!" I told her no, and she said, "Ryan, I know that, I'm just teasing you."

Even in her last days, she was always trying to make me laugh.

Mom kept trying to take off her oxygen mask, but I wouldn't let her. "You didn't raise me to not be stubborn," I told her.

"Well, that was my goal in life - " she answered - "to get you raised."

I realized later that she had checked off everything on her earthly to-do list. My brother is grown, my sister is grown and raising a family, and now I, the youngest, had just started my own family. In my mom's eyes, her job was complete. She raised me and my brother and sister. My dad had passed on, so she was ready to go.

I came home so she could rest. I remember while being outside, even though there were stars out and not a cloud to be seen, I saw a flash of lightning come from the western sky. From where I live, the hospital is to the west. I froze for a moment, wondering if it was a transformer or something. I went along with my night and finally went to bed.

I was talking to Amanda and looking at my phone when it rang. It was my sister. She is a nurse and happened to be working at the hospital that night. I needed to come up there, because we had to make some important decisions. Mom did not have a living will. She was not being responsive to them but kept trying to pull her oxygen off. When it did come off, her vitals plummeted.

I remember being in shock. I had just been talking to her. What had happened? Why the sudden change? More importantly, what do we do now?

I remember my sister asking Mom what she wanted us to do. Mom squeezed my hand when she asked if she just wanted to go be with Dad. I still thought deep down it would be a long way off, not 24 hours later.

I have to stop here because honestly my mind is a jumbled mess. A lot of what I've written I've went back and forth on if I want to write because it still hurts too much. This is the first anniversary of her death without the comfort of antidepressants, without the numbing of medication. I'm feeling it raw for the first time and it's like a bandaid being ripped off. It hurts and I don't think I realized just how bad it hurts until now.

I thought I had kept the pain under control pretty well, but the problem with grief is if you don't deal with it, it will manifest itself in one way or another. The best thing to do is just to experience the stages as they come to you and lean on God for support, strength, and comfort.