Saturday, June 10, 2017

The Week That Was

Yesterday afternoon shortly after one o'clock, we pulled the door shut on Mom's apartment.  Kara, Jill, and I then took the elevator downstairs to the lobby, bid farewell to Tom at the front desk, and began the sad trek home. Mom had known Tom since she moved into the building eighteen years ago and although I only met him a couple of times, Mom and the girls always spoke fondly of him. As we turned in Mom's keys, Tom gave Jill a hug.  He told her that Mom was among the sweetest residents with whom he interacted. He then told us that Mom was always extremely sweet to him, which he appreciated.

Lest you think that what Tom said was just something one says to a child mourning a parent, consider that at dinner on Thursday night, our waitress froze momentarily when she saw Kara.  She recognized Kara from the hospital. Lauren, our waitress, had been Mom's nurse in the hospital prior to Mom's transfer to ICU.  When she asked Kara how Mom was doing and Stel informed Lauren that Mom had died, all four of us started to cry.  Our sadness was understandable.  Lauren's was explained by the fact that in the brief time Mom spent with her, Mom affected her.  I told Lauren that we get that a lot. She smiled. Leave it to Mom to make someone she barely knew smile.

One week ago Wilma and I began the long, sad journey south. Stel was already there with Mom in the hospital. We were only a couple of hours into our seventeen-hour journey when Stel called, in tears, to tell us Mom had died.  We spent the next fourteen-plus hours knowing we would not arrive in Florida in time to say goodbye to her. We then the next five days doing exactly that.

It was a tough week. The week that was. I look forward to being able to talk about Mom's dying without crying. I can write about it but lending voice to the notion is something that I cannot yet do.  Perhaps this shall be the week when that occurs. Perhaps. It is a process that I do not intend to rush.


1 comment:

Lucia said...

My heart goes out to you and your family. I remember you spoke so highly of your mom to me. She sounded like a great lady that everyone was drawn to and left an impression on. I remember you told me when my father passed to hold on tight to your family for support. It really does help you get through this difficult time. Your mom still lives on in you and your siblings. Her spirit will always be with you forever. My deepest sympathies to you and your family.