One year ago, my mother died. While visiting my sister and her family in Dallas last year, my mother collapsed while they were bowling. She was rushed to the hospital. That was on Friday. That evening, my younger sister and my two aunts flew to Dallas. My other sister flew in the next day. My mother died of a brain aneurysm bursting. She basically died that Friday but was kept alive via machines until Saturday afternoon. She was able to donate her liver. She was 65.
My mother struggled the last ten years of her life. A part of her died when my daddy did 11 years ago and it seems just shit upon shit happened since. Her house was destroyed in Katrina and her grandson was still born; just to name a couple. She was also a compulsive gambler and unfortunately, never did stay in recovery. She didn't have a car and often her phone was disconnected. Sometimes, a couple of weeks would go by until I heard from her. Or I would drive to her condo to make sure she was okay. She would sometimes sleep at my house on the weekends to do her laundry and to watch my television (she didn't have cable). She usually watched the Saints games at my house. She loved to cook so she often made us a good meal while she was visiting. She was a teacher and was still working. She truly loved teaching.
She was my mom. Ann, I miss you. I keep thinking that I need to drive by your condo to check on you. And then I remember. You're not MIA, you're not here anymore. I thought Blake's death prepared me for this. But I was wrong.
Around Christmas, two of my sisters and I went to lunch. We were talking about cousins in the family getting pregnant or trying to get pregnant. Or rather they were. Those are not conversations that I usually participate. One of them said my cousin (who is due next month) was having trouble getting pg and was on clo.mid. I said I had no idea. And my younger sister said she had asked her when she was gonna start having kids. I then said that I don't ask those kind of questions. That even though they seem like innocent questions, they really aren't. They are really personal and invasive. Something as simple as "How many children do you have?" is not so simple to me. I still stumble on how to answer that.
And then my oldest sister said, "You can say, 'I have four kids, but one of them lives with his grandparents."
It sounds morbid or mean, but at the time it really was funny. And all I could do was laugh. As I imagined people's reactions if I did say that.
So, Ann, I hope you and Daddy are taking care of my baby. Please, I hope so. I hope that is the case. Love and miss the three of you.
You've been through so much loss, Laine. I'm so sorry. I'd be lost without my mum through all of this babyloss mess. I laughed at your sister's comment as well. Sounds like you have a good relationship, as I do with my own sister. It is in some way comforting to be at the stage of our grief that we can joke about things like this. Because if we can't laugh, then crying all day isn't much fun.
ReplyDeleteOh, and I just read your previous post as well. Don't have much advice, though I have been through almost the exact thing very recently. And I cut the friend. Totally. It ended in a few nasty emails, then she did the big cut - she deleted me from Facebook (!!) now that's it. Yeah, I'm sad about it. Yeah, I kinda miss her. But I miss my daughter more. I have survived worse.
Sorry you're dealing with this as well.