Dear Mom, Our Final Act

Dear Mom,

I just lost you, but it somehow feels like I’ve already lived an eternity without you.

How is it possible that I will never see you again?

How am I still breathing, when you aren’t?

I thought I would be more prepared for this loss, for your death. We have spent years preparing for your death, all of us in our own individual ways. I’ve read all the books, scoured all the literature about anticipatory grief, most of which said that with prolonged anticipatory grieving, people often just feel relief when its over.

Well, I don't feel relief.

None of the books told me that it would feel like someone reached in and ripped my insides out, beat the shit out of them, and then shove them back in and then say: “Here you go, now try to keep on living with this mangled mess of insides.”

No one told me how hard it would fucking hurt.

Yes, I am so glad you are free of suffering. The end was awful, it must have been so scary for you, and I am SO grateful you held on long enough to let us all come back and reassemble at home. Thank you.

But –

It fucking hurts like hell.

The pain is literally physical, beyond what I had prepared myself for.

I am broken without you.

“Other than my milk glass scores, that is what I would call a garbage sale,” I said to Kelsey. She laughed, and then my phone pinged.

I looked down, and it was a text from Dad that simply said, “She’s gone.”

No, no, NO!

NO.

That can’t be true. We were supposed to be around you when you went. You were NOT supposed to die alone!!

I frantically tried to get a hold of him. It took probably 2 minutes, but it felt like an eternity. He very simply, through choked sobs said again,

“She’s gone. She just went to sleep.”

I said I didn't understand.

I opened my car door because it suddenly felt hot as fuck and like I was being suffocated. The world was suddenly a totally different place spinning around me.

I was at a shitty garbage sale when I heard you were gone from me, forever.

Did you suffer? Were you scared?

I hope not.

I fucking hope not.

Based on what you looked like when they found you, you were in the exact same position you were put to sleep in, so it appears as if you just…went to sleep.

My heart is BROKEN.

Kelsey reached over and gave me a long, tight embrace. I sobbed and wailed.

How could you have died while I was at a shitty garbage sale?

I should have been with you.

And I am so sorry.

I am so sorry I wasn’t there.

Kelsey took my keys and drove me all the way from Lake Stevens to you so I didn’t have to drive in the state I was in.

Jennifer, Hudson, and Shyawn were already there.

I walked into the house not at all prepared for what I might find. I was scared, Mom.

So, so, scared.

I have written your eulogy a thousand times in my head, imagined your funeral just as many. I also imagined your peaceful moment of passing, surrounded by all of us, us telling you it is ok to go.

But –

I never imagined this. For some reason, I never imagined having to go to you AFTER you died, what your empty, dead body would look like.

I guess because that was too hard for me to think about.

The books didn’t prepare me for this.

I walked into the bedroom, the bedroom you shared with your sister as a child and the room I shared with Jennifer as a child, and Jennifer was standing next to you.

I needed to be close to you, so I grabbed the closest thing to sit on that I could find.

Guess what it was? It was your mobile toilet commode. I thought you would find it fucking hysterical that I sat on a goddamn toilet next to you. You loved fart and poop humor like no one else.

I thought it was fitting.

If I wasn't so goddamn broken, I might have also thought it was funny.

Someday, maybe, when I tell this story, that I held vigil next to your body until they came to take you away sat upon a fucking toilet, it will be funny.

But not today.

I asked Jennifer to get your Chapstick. Your lips looked dry. I believe I inherited my Chapstick addiction from you. I of course, took it to new heights.

I gently applied Chapstick on your lips, and told you I didn't want your lips to be dry.

You were so cold, but your lips were still velvety soft.

After I snapped the cap back on, I ran my fingers over your lips. I wanted to make sure there weren’t any Chapstick chunks, and I wanted to feel your lips.

Then I asked for a hairbrush. Sorry to say, but you had some bedhead happening, and I knew you wouldn't like it. So I brushed your hair as best as I could, and tucked the whispy pieces around your face behind your ears, just like you like it.

You had a few stray hairs on your neck, which you have always HATED, so I removed them.

I decided I needed to have some of your hair. I asked Cris to find me some scissors. Without skipping a beat, he turned around and found some scissors. I apologized to you as I cut it; they were dull, shitty, Fiskar scissors. God knows how old they were. I did a hack job. I apologized to you for making your hair look so shitty. I tried to tuck it away and brush it so it sort of looked like intentional short side bangs.

I put your hair into a Ziplock bag.

I straightened your shirt, pulled your sleeves down like you like them. I didn’t want it to be bunched up and uncomfortable.

Once I finished with these things, I held your hand.

It was SO cold.

But it wasn’t so cold that I couldn't wrap your fingers around mine.

I held your hand to my cheek and I cried.

I cried an ocean of tears.

Then I just talked to you. I told you I would miss you, that I love you so fucking much.

I stroked your arms, massaged your shoulders. I made you promise to never leave me, to somehow let me know you are with me, because I couldn't bear to be separated from you permanently.

I traced the lines in your hands with my fingers, hugged you, and kissed your cheeks and forehead.

Everyone came in and out during this time, checking in on us, but I think they knew I needed time, just you and I.

I tucked your blankies around you tighter; I didn’t want you to be cold, even though it was sweltering outside. Mom, it was the hottest day of the year so far.

You loved the sun. I hope there are sunbeams on you right now, wherever you are.

At some point, the cremation place called me on Dad’s phone. I talked to them and they said they would be sending two guys out to take you in an hour or two. She explained that they would take really good care of you and be really gentle. When they said that, I broke down on the phone.

I held your hand the entire time.

Spunky also came to say goodbye. He cozied up and laid right on your hands.

When I got off the phone, I decided I wanted to wash your face and neck, your normal morning routine, and our normal nightly routine when I took care of you at night.

As I held your hand, through a tear-streaked face, I looked up at Cris and asked him to get me a wet washcloth, because I wanted to wash your face. I asked him to make sure it was warm.

He didn’t skip a beat. He said of course.

He brought us a warm washcloth, and said he made sure it wasn’t too hot. He also brought a dry towel to dry you with.

I am so grateful for his compassion, kindness and patience and the way he has taken care of both you and I during this long road.

I washed your face. I rubbed down your forehead, washed over your eyes, rubbed away the “eye gookies” from around your eyes. Wiped behind your ears, over your nose, your lips, and around your neck and chest. I told you what I was doing during each step.

I decided the dry towel was too rough to dry you with, so I grabbed your white, silkie-soft blankie I got you a few months ago when I re-did your room.

I traced it over your face, and told you that I hoped it comforted you, like my baby security blanket, “my fluffy” did when I was young. As you know, my fluffy was also white and silkie-soft.

I am glad we both had a fluffy at the beginning and the end.

Then I wrapped the blankie around your exposed shoulders, up to your chin; I didn’t want you to be cold, so I made sure to tuck it in behind your shoulders.

I reapplied another layer of Chapstick, just to make sure your lips were nice and moist. It is what I would want.

At some point, I had to go to the bathroom, so I asked Cris to sit with you and hold your hand. I didn't want you to be alone.

He didn't hesitate. He took position up on that goddamn toilet, and held your hand.

He said I had been holding your hand for so long that it felt warm again.

I went to the bathroom and came back, assuming my toilet seat next to you.

I decided that the clump of hair wasn't enough, that I wanted to put a hair thing around hair and lop it off, so it wasn't just a clump of hair. I sent Cris on a mission to find some scissors that weren’t made for a 3^rd grader and bought in 1996, and something to tie your hair with. He came back with 4 pairs of scissors, and a rubber band. He apologized for not having something better; I told him you wouldn't mind.

I wound the rubber band around your hair, on the side I hadn’t hacked off. I told you I thought I would at least try to make the hack job symmetrical. I laughed when I finished the little baby ponytail. I told you how funny it looked, like something someone would do for crazy hair day. Cris handed me another pair of scissors, and they too, were dull. Then he handed me garden shears. That did the trick.

One smooth close of the shears and your baby ponytail came away.

I am sorry I hacked away at your hair with shitty scissors and garden shears.

I spent the next hour or so just talking to you, you and I.

Taking in your every feature.

I took photos of our hands intertwined, and of your hands placed peacefully upon the blanket. Some people might consider this morbid, but I needed it. I process all of my feelings and emotions not only through writing, but also photography. I’ve become so passionate about not only capturing life’s beautiful, picture-perfect moments, but also ALL of life’s moments, even the intensely sad ones. I am so afraid that my grief will cause me to not remember the details, so I have been documenting everything as best as I can. I will treasure these photos always.

Always.

Oh, how I will miss you something fucking fierce.

I promised to take you with me, everywhere. In the big moments, and in the little ones.

That when I have my babies, you’ll be there. And they will know you, even if they can’t feel you, they will know you.

I promise.

I talked about all the foods I was hoping you were eating, your favorite black licorice, popcorn, and drinking a cold glass of Rose. I said I hoped you were zumba-ing it up, running, laughing, talking. I said I hoped you were with your beloved Grandmother, who you lost so many years ago and I knew you always missed. And with your Dad, who just recently left us, and with Grandma Goldsbary. I am sure she greeted you by putting her hands on your cheeks, gave you a kiss on the cheeks and said, “Well, hi honey!” in her sing-song voice. I told you I hoped you were petting all of our beloved and departed kitties. How happy Tiggy, Beebers, Chubbies, your beloved Babies, Muffy, and all of those who pre-dated my life, would be to get some pets and love again. I said that Sadie was probably so happy to see you, finally a human she knows! She probably jumped up on you in her crazy way, so excited, and gave you a big sloppy kiss. I laughed and reminded you about the time she ate all of the bacon you made for spinach salad for Michael’s graduation party all those years ago. Two entire packs! You were so mad. I even laughed as I told you. Bad Sadie girl. I am sure she is wagging her tail next to you now. I am glad you have a friend.

Oh, I hope you aren’t lonely. Or afraid.

Tom and Colleen stopped by. They wanted to say goodbye. When I saw them out front, I asked you if you would want to see them, I explained that I wasn't sure what the right decision was. I said I wish you had told me more about what you wanted. Everyone came in and asked if it was ok for them to interrupt our time, and that I could say no. I said they could come in, but that I wasn't leaving. I remained steadfast, on the toilet, holding your hand.

Your brother was quick. It was clearly hard for him. He stroked your hair once and said, “Oh, girl,” choked back tears, and looked up at the ceiling. He added, “I am glad you are no longer suffering,” and walked out.

Colleen was so tender with you. She stroked your hair and said, “Oh girl, you fought so long and so hard.” These simple, tender, love-filled words pierced me and the tears fell down fast. She added, “You were the best friend I ever had.”

She stayed for quite awhile, just stroking your hair. I am sure you liked that.

It was the right decision.

I wanted to get your ring off of your finger. The ring Jennifer, Michael, and I gave you for your 50^th birthday with our birthstones on it. I couldn't get it off, I was afraid I might cause damage. I enlisted Cris’ help, and he also could not get it off. He got some string and Vaseline and gently tried to gently coax it off your finger to no avail. He promised he would ask the cremation guys to get it off for me.

Periodically I checked in with everyone to make sure they didn't want alone time with you. Everyone came and went, but I think they knew we needed this together.

Everyone deals and processes grief in our own individual ways; it doesn’t change how much any of us loved you.

You and I have spent so much 1:1 time together over the course of my life; we were companions and friends, as you of course know. Shopping buddies, Disneyland fanatics, lovers of all fart and poop related jokes.

During this time, Hudson was out and about in the yard, just playing with Great Grandpa. Watering all of Grandpa’s flowers. I opened the windows so you could hear him. I know you would have liked that.

Jennifer came in with Hudson, and Shyawn, for your little beloved Hudson boy to say goodbye.

I gave up my toilet throne for Jennifer to sit with Hudson.

Oh, Mom, I thought I might die from the pain of this little sweet and innocent goodbye.

Hudson sat on Jennifer’s lap.

He was so quiet.

Jennifer explained to him that you weren’t going to be there the next time he came because your body was sick and had stopped working. She told him that he wouldn't see you anymore like their kitty, Tiger.

Jennifer put her hand and his little chubby dimpled baby hands over yours. I took a photo because I never wanted to forget. 

Then he put just his hand on yours.

It felt like someone reached through me and removed my lungs when he whispered:

“Bye, Nana.”

And then did his little I love you hand sign that you and he shared.

It felt like I might not ever be able to breathe again.

Then he went outside to dig some more.

Sweet, sweet Hudson boy.

A few minutes later, Jennifer came back in, trailed by Shyawn and Cris. She told me the guys were here to take you. I again told you what the lady on the phone told me, that they would take really good care of you and be really gentle. That you didn't need to be afraid.

When I caught sight of them with the stretcher, I collapsed on you. I wailed from a place of deep and agonizing pain. I am sure I sounded like a wounded animal.

I said I didn't want them to take you, I wasn't ready.

I know, Mom, it probably seems silly. I had been sitting with you for hours, and after all, you were dead.

Jennifer looked at me and said, “This isn’t her anymore, she is gone.”

Cris looked at me with the utmost compassion, and said, “It is time.”

Through a tear-streaked face I just nodded.

The guys came back, and explained how it was going to work, and I think they knew I needed more time. They asked if we wanted more time and to take all the time we needed, they had no where to go.

Michael and Dad came in to say goodbyes. They had both been in and out all morning. I think it was especially hard on them to see you like this.

When Michael enveloped you with a giant hug, and let out a wailing cry, it shattered the remaining intact parts of my heart. 

Your tender-hearted, compassionate, caring, kind, emotional, Michael.

Oh, little brother.

I told him that he did so good with you, taking care of you this past year. And that he was THE BEST son anyone could ask for. I could see the back of his head nod.

He loved you so good, Mom.

So good.

He stood back up and said he needed to go outside, that he had said his goodbyes. He didn't want to see you taken away.

Everyone else said their goodbyes, and then it was just you and I again.

I told you I didn't know how to let you go, that I didn't want to let you go. I said that I needed a sign that it was time for me to let you go.

At that exact moment, a gust of wind blew through the window and shut the door.

Was that you? Am I just inferring from a random act of nature?

I don't know. But I took it as a sign.

I kissed each of your cheeks, your forehead, hugged you tight.

I told you that I will love you forever and ever, and think of you everyday, miss you everyday, and your loss will never be easy.

Then I said, goodbye, I love you, see you later, goodnight, I love you, see you later. As we have always said for my entire life.

Our final act.

I will cherish it always.

Always.

Even though it felt like I died a million times over beside your bed, my heart was somehow still beating and I managed to stand up and walk out.

I don't remember if I moved that damn toilet.

I walked out and joined Jennifer, Shyawn, and Cris in the living room. The guys went back and assured me they would take really good care of you.

When they were in there, I became panicked and asked Cris to ask them to wheel you out with the bag open, I needed to see you once more. I also begged him to ask them how long they thought you had been dead. He put his hand on my shoulder and said they won’t know. I again begged, and he said ok.

He came back out and said they would keep her face exposed and explained they couldn't say for how long you’d been gone.

I was hoping for some quantitative information that might make me feel better to understand if you had been aware or unaware of the moment you passed.

I didn't get it.

Oh, Mom.

I am so sorry I wasn't there.

Cris did, however, re-emerge from the room with your ring. I slipped it on my finger. I haven’t taken it off since. Your hands are bigger than mine, so it doesn’t really fit well on any finger. It still feels uncomfortable; I am constantly cognizant of its presence on my finger. It feels kind of like my pain, I don't need a visual reminder, I can always feel it.

They wheeled you out. You looked so small, your body shrouded in an industrial plastic black body bag.

I smoothed your hair back, gave you one final embrace and kissed your cheeks and forehead again. When I was cheek to cheek with you I whispered:

You don't have to be afraid anymore. Everything is going to be ok. You will always be with me, and I will always be with you. I love you. Love you, goodbye, see you later.

And that was the last time I saw you.

I think I did die a million times over in that room.

Yet, here I am.