Thoughts of my mom

Yes, I miss her. I miss her much more than I want to admit and probably more than I ever thought I could allow myself to miss her. Our final hours together were not the best. Certainly nothing that would bring tears to ones eyes. Our final hours were strained, to say the least. Maybe I am still grieving even though it has been over a year since her passing. Maybe I am still angry that she didn't last forever or at least last until I was ready to let go.

Sometimes I think that she was trying for months to tell me that she was dying, but I preferred to live in denial and not hear her. I can remember feeling exhaustion when trying to talk to her. I would call her to tell her something fun and good that was happening in my life. Before I could finish with my news of the day, she would enthusiastically interrupt me with her story about experiencing the same thing years ago or with some tale about how she had hurt herself and wasn't healing properly. I wish I had given her more of my attention and listened with more heart. She certainly deserved that from me.

My mom was very frail. For several years before she died she struggled to keep 95 lbs on her less than 5 ft frame. She ate like a horse, but just couldn't put on the pounds. She struggled with CHF(congestive heart failure) for years and was convinced at the end that she had CA(what my Register Nurse mom called cancer) of the lungs. My mom smoked all of her adult life and for years feared that she might have lung cancer so maybe that is true. She certainly had the cough to verify her fear. Close to the end,she was too fragile to do a biopsy on the spot that XRAY showed on her lungs. The doctors feared that her lung would collapse or that she could bleed to death. So, considering her fragility, age and lifestyle, the biopsy was ruled out. We will never know if the cancer is what got her.

The strongest thought that lives in my brain is that the Doctor told my mom that she would probably live about 6 months longer. My mom came home, sat down and made a plan to die. She planned her hospice care, her chosen place of departure, her cremation and her preferred place for the scattering of her ashes. Six months later she died. The day before she died, she went out to eat at Luby's with my little sister, Leslie. When they came home, she put on her pajamas, went to bed, slipped into a coma of sorts and died 24 hours later. I helplessly watched it happen.