A Week of Deaths

My divorce was finalized finally on Wednesday, after waiting more than a year. Yesterday was the 4 year anniversary of my mom's death. The divorce really feels like a death for me, that part of me that was there for so long just got infected and fell off. That same night I sat thinking about how the very same evening 4 years ago hubby and I were sitting in a hospital room, watching my mother take about 6 breaths per minute, just praying that she would die. She needed to be put out of this misery. We'd all been on death watch (my dad, my 3 brothers, their wives, Chuck, family friends) for a few weeks. My wedding was on August 14th, and my mom wasn't able to make it because she was in the hospital and just too sick. We went on our honeymoon, and had to leave about 12 hours into it because she was taking a turn for the worse. At this point she was in the ICU and completely out of it. It's such a vivid memory for me, going up to the 6th floor to the waiting room outside the ICU, where all my family was waiting for me, waiting to prep me for what I was about to see. I knew she was out of it, I knew she was incubated, I knew she looked really horrible, they kept pushing this at me, but you will never be ready for what you see. My family walked me down there, and I remember so well that when I got to the room, which was glass and pretty open, I saw her and started freaking out, crying, and backing up. For some reason, whenever I've ever received really terrible news, I back up, like backing away from the person delivering the info. Anyway, I wanted to turn and run, but everyone pushed me into the room. I didn't pay any attention, but I was told later that the nurses that witnessed it even started to cry. I hope these were the same nurses that came to her funeral. This is besides the point, but I found that just incredible. Nurses deal with so many patients, yet they cared about my mother enough to go to her funeral. Back to mom, she looked ghastly. She probably weighed 80 pounds. She was 5'7". Tubes shoved down her throat, catheter bag hanging down, diaper on, I can't even explain how awful this was.

Okay, I'm in the library and feel like I'm going to start bawling, so I'll finish this later. I need a pick-me-up. I need my daughter.