For My Mom

My mother passed away at 3:30AM on Sunday, June 19th, 2011.   She had awoken the day before suddenly feeling ill, perhaps with a stomach virus of some sort.  Her symptoms escalated and finally she stopped fighting my father about going to the hospital.  We were told she had some kind of cardiac event, possibly a heart attack. They transferred her to a qualified hospital and ran some more tests.  The condition was serious and the damage extensive, but no one knew what had happened.

They ruled out a heart attack and it was clear that she had a pretty substantial infection of some kind.  The road ahead of us looked difficult and expansive, but the doctors would reconvene at 10AM (it now being nearly 2:30 in the morning) with more test results and a better idea of what was going on.  At 3:30AM an alarm sounded, and I rushed, terrified, down a hallway that seemed to go on and on forever.  Her room was at the very end, 317, with a blue light blinking above her door.  They called a code blue and the universe went dark.  I spent an eternity at the end of that hallway, waiting for everything to be okay.  Though I am here, I still feel like my heart is trapped at the end of the that hallway.

If you knew my mother, you know that she was larger than life. She was a hard worker, passionate about caring for the sick and helping those in need. She injected fun into everything she did. There wasn't anything I wouldn't have done just to make her smile, and no price too high to see that smile once more. Her happiness had the strength to overcome all sadness. She radiated hope. One day she was healthy and infused with a passion for life, and the next day she was gone, leaving the world dark and confusing.

It is as if she couldn't possibly be gone. The phone rings and my heart expects it to be her. Everywhere I go, I see her face.  She was in everything I said and did, from her mannerisms to her influences and inspiration.  She pushed me to be a better me, all the while loving me for my imperfections.  She encouraged me to take on tasks I never thought I could do, and then she beamed when I completed them.  She radiated support and love, without even having to try.

Being a mother is about being able to see outside yourself, and my mother was no exception.  She cared for all others before herself.  Her concerns were always the welfare of those around her, whether they were lifelong friends or recent acquaintances. It is my impression that my grandmother, who died at a young age, was very much the same kind of woman.  My mother took the best of her and left the worst of her experiences behind her.  She had every excuse to be a different kind of person, but every decision she made led her to the be the woman who touched the lives of so many people.  She was exceptional despite all the available excuses to be otherwise.  She refused to let the sum of her suffering be the whole of her heart.

I suppose many people have close relationships with their parents, and it would be arrogant for me to insinuate that my bond with my mother was anything special--but it was.  In highschool, when everyone was hiding things from their parents, I would spend hours laying on the bed in my mother's room.  We would talk about everything, from the silliest highschool dramas to the most serious conversations a teenager could have. I cherished these last night discussions even as a child.

Everyone said that as I grew older, we would grow apart.  We never did.  In college, I saw her almost every weekend.  Even after, I visited often, calling even more.  Anything worth talking about was discussed with my mom, and especially all the topics that were not.  I couldn't believe what happened on One Life to Live today.  Which color scheme works best for this crafting project?  I had pasta for dinner tonight.  What should I wear to this interview?  The dog is wearing the tutu you made her.  Do the sum of these symptoms equal a trip to the doctor? Nothing was too big or small, and so we would ramble on.

When the news finally sunk in, I didn't have to wonder if I had told her I loved her.  She knew it. There was no doubt of that.  And although I wished that I had called her Friday night, rather than just going to bed, I didn't hold on to that regret either.  There could be plenty of "I wish..." and "Why didn't I?" but really, there is just one big hole in my heart and that's all it comes down too.  My mother, friend, mentor, advisor, healthcare provider, business partner... my everything is gone.  And though I go on, day to day, I feel very much empty.   It is as if someone has possessed my body, and continues to run the show, while I am just glazed over and lost.

My heart is broken, and not just for my own loss.  It is broken to know that she had finally gotten her spirit and passion back from the death of her own adopted mother/aunt, when it was so swiftly stolen away.  My heart is broken to know that my father just lost his beloved wife of 33 years, mother of his two children.  It is broken because my brother just lost his own mother, who loved him so wholly and unconditionally.  My heart is broken to know that my mother, who loved children more than she loved anything, never knew the joy of having a grandchild.  And even though I am unsure that I want children, I was never unsure about the amazing grandmother she would have been.

Matter of fact, the only thing I really did know about the subject was how wonderful she would have been and how much happiness it would have brought her.  My heart is broken because my mother, who died at the age of 54, had an entire life of exciting possibilities ahead of her.  Possibilities that she talked about constantly, adventures that she was ecstatic to embark on, stolen potential.

This post should conclude with some inspirational words about how she is in a better place and everything is going to be alright.  But those words would be hollow and insincere at best.  I am not certain of much this evening, but these things I know for sure:

My mother was not done living.
My family has been robbed.

Lynn's Memorial Website