I hope this day ends soon.
Four years ago today I watched my mother die, writhing in pain and hopefully unaware of what was happening to her, after a short fight with cancer.
I always try to keep myself busy on this date. I miss my mother terribly. I miss my father terribly as well. He died less than a year and half before my mother did.
My fathers passing and the anniversary of his death fill me with sorrow, but it never seems to hurt as much as memories of my mothers passing do. I suppose that’s because we believe my father died fairly peacefully in his sleep. My mother heard an odd sound, a gasp I suppose, and he was gone. He died in his own bed.
My mother on the other hand was diagnosed with bowel and adrenal gland cancer and shortly after that several brain tumors were found. She was in the hospital from the time of her operation/ diagnosis until her death. She had an aggressive cancer and I’m thankful her fight was fairly short at only about two months, but it took it’s toll on all of us.
She was so strong. When she knew she had cancer and that she wouldn’t be with us long she tried to sit with us and plan out who would get different items that she’d always loved. She tried to remain pleasant and cheerful even when she was in pain and never seemed too upset that life had dealt her a terrible way to end.
I can only hope that if I’m ever told that I only have a certain amount of time to live that I can be as accepting, brave and strong as she was. I guess she showed me how one can die with dignity and peace.
On the day she died, four years ago today, my husband and I got a call at the house. We rushed to the hospital to be with her in her final hour. She was unconscious I believe, but she was moaning and writhing in pain. It was almost unbearable to watch and it’s very hard to remember. I’d much rather that she’d gone peacefully like my father.
My husband and I were the only ones at her bedside. As she moaned in pain I tried calling my only brother who lived in the same city and he didn’t believe that my mother was dying. He thought that it was a false alarm.
I’m an ER nurse and I’ve been with far too many people as they’ve died. I couldn’t believe that my brother didn’t believe me when I told him what was happening. I suppose it was his own form of denial. He didn’t show up at the hospital until almost an hour after my mother had died, leaving my husband I sitting with her body as we waited for him.
I guess when I think of her death I’m dealing with the horror of how she died as well as my resentment towards my brother for not being there for her or for me during that hard time.
I hope this day ends soon … I really hope it ends soon …
BTW to top this day off my brother, the one that didn’t show up when I needed him, lives in the city where my parents are buried. He often goes to their grave site on the anniversary of their deaths, at Christmas and Easter and then he … sends photos of their gravestones. Like I need that on this day. I will not open an email from him if he sends one … I will not open an email from him …
