Grief

I'm not sure that I want to even write this post. But if I don't do something I'll explode from grief.

After a nearly 3 year battle my Mom died from cancer on April 28, 2008. I miss her.

She was in the hospice program (at home in her apartment) for 8+ months. They said she would probably not last six months. She was very strong and extremely stubborn. One day she said "I guess I'm trying too hard to hold on". I assured her that that was not the case - she was just making the most of the time she had left.

The funeral was nice, so many friends and family came to say goodbye. A very real testament to how much she was loved. And how much I am loved. The only problem is that the service seemed so hollow to me. The minister did a fine job with what we gave him. But it didn't really speak of her strength, courage, morals, faith, love.

My Mom loved me. We were lucky. We had 9 months of "I love you" and we said it often. For the final 5 weeks that she was in a hospice facility, and before she became unresponsive, I would start my visit the same way each time. I would remove my glasses so that I could look deeper into her eyes. Sitting on the side of her hospital bed, I would lean over to hug her and kiss her. She always waited to kiss me back once I was done. We would look into each others' eyes and talk briefly about how she was feeling, how my day had gone so far and was I getting too far behind on my work. Each time was poignant and bittersweet as I saw her change daily while the brain metastases spread.

One day as we finished the ritual I honestly told her how I liked to come and see her at the end of the day. Mom said, simply, "well, it's good to be seen". She probably didn't know that I was lapping up each moment I could before she wouldn't be there any longer. I was holding on for her dear life.

Eventually, after about four weeks, Mom stopped eating or responding. She had been working hard somewhere else, talking without sound and moving her hands. If I know my Mom she was bantering with my Dad or cleaning some imaginary house. Just when the nurses thought she'd pass, she would wake up and have a great day. But now she was silent and it became less of a visit and more of a vigil.

More to be said but it will wait until another day as I process this immense loss.