I think I can honestly say without hesitation that November 2010 was the worst month of my life. There is a lot of specifics I can't really remember during this period but I will go over the basics. First of all, it was the last time my mother was well enough to pay bills and do basic business. She never left the house of her own accord after November 3rd. That is when she began the real process of dying. We had to set up a hospital bed at that point in the living room and she never went upstairs again. Our days were basically spent dosing her with meds, helping her to the bathroom, and trying to give her what food and drink she could handle. I remember one day close to Thanksgiving, I needed her to sign a check and she couldn't manage to do it, and that is when I realized she was really going away. It got so bad for me, that even though I was still scared of what lay ahead, I was mentally ready to let go of her. I was already mourning the mother I lost. Her funny wit, her comforting presence, even arguing with her. Then came the Thanksgiving that made me hate that day. At some point in October, our secret about Daniel's violence was revealed to my sister Tara, because he basically cussed her out and let lose years of resentment. Never did it get physical and he was the one who removed himself from the house, but it did nothing to help my anxiety and I came clean about the real reason I went to the E.R. in April with my sister. I don't know if I was correct or not in that but I desperately needed to reach out to someone, not that it did a lot of good. Anyway, I hosted thanksgiving for the first time, which gave me a sense of pride and accomplishment. I was worn out from cooking and taking care of Lissie and I still don't completely know what set it off, but I think it had to do with Tara sounding bossy (which is second nature as the oldest sister anyway) she merely told everyone to turn their heads that my mom had to go to the bathroom (she had a portapotty in the living room) My brother really went off on my sister and told her to get out of the house. I had a huge mess in the kitchen still to clean up and people were still eating and there were the other nieces present. It never really got physical but the PTSD I talked about before really got to me, and I couldn't stop crying all night. What is worse, my mom was conscious and begged him to calm down which broke my heart. That was probably her last real conscious moment and I don't want to say I will never forgive him, because I have, but I would hate to go around with something like that on my conscience.
At that point I was motivated beyond all reason to get as far away from him as I could. I just wanted so badly to find a safe place. I think part of me wanted him to just kill me and get it over with, I do know that I blew it way out of proportion in my head. but I was really afraid of him. From that point for a few days, things were tense and my mom went into a coma. We slept over monday and tuesday night. Something told me we were very close. Aside from my brother, whom I still had a lot of negative feelings towards, I felt so close to my family at that time. At sometime between 5:15 and 5:20, my mom passed away. I want to say I felt her heart stop but I can't be positive. I was completely numb and went through the motions of what had to be done for the next few days. Even to this day months later, it still doesn't feel real. I feel guilty sometimes for being able to go on so relatively well when she was the most important person and still is the most important person in my life. It almost seems like she was never here most of the time. I guess it has to be that way in order to cope. I still have things of hers to go through, it is still too fresh and raw at the moment. I read grief tends to peak at the third month and that makes a lot of sense because, as I will write about, a lot of practical matters had to be dealt with in the months following her death that only now, every once in a while I think, I need to ask momma, and she isn't here and it is like someone punched me in the stomach. Also, when I get overwhelmed and exhausted and everyone fails me in some way or another, my gut instinct is to go cry on her shoulder and she isn't there. I know I will see her again. I don't think God lets people that have passed on look down on us because I can't imagine it being a pleasant thing to look down on this world, and there are no tears in heaven, but I hope now and again he tells her how much I love her, how sorry I am that I took her for granted, that I am okay and doing pretty well all things considered, and that I look forward to seeing her again.
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