It was an interesting early morning, August 17, 2010.
I’ve typically been a fan of surprises. “The Call” for when it’s time to have a child. I LOVE that call! It’s the kind of thing that catches you off guard and something that will change your life forever. Something somewhat expected, yet you’re not completely sure of timing. You are “ready” but not really thinking about it at the time it actually happens.
Unfortunately, as life works, that “call” can come for unfortunate news as well. My cell phone rang with my brother on the other end. In my dreaming stupor, I thought I had slept in too late or I had forgotten something. However, it was “the call”.
“I got a call from the hospital. Mom has taken a turn for the worse and they have asked us to come up.”
Ok. Look at the time. 1:29am. Rush to get ready.
Do I have enough time to put in my contacts? Sure! They certainly would give us several hours before “the end”. What about calling pastors? I call Russ. He answers his home phone right away. “So, you’re talking hours here?” “Yes,” I respond. “Ok, I’ll be there and I’ll call Tom as well.”
So, I get dressed.
What does one wear to watch their mother die? We’ve been “prepared” for this for 5+ years, since Mom was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma. So, it’s been something we have prepared for. Or have we?
What stupid shirt do I wear? I work my way through my closet several times. And my drawers. Nothing. Oh yes, I have shirts. But again, what does one wear to watch their mother die? Is it something that I will remember years down the line? Do I need to be respectful? Comfortable? Will she see me? What will we do? Which damn shirt should I wear!
I nearly break down with this seemingly simple decision.
I finally decided on a simple striped polo and jeans and move on. Maybe we should hustle a litter faster.
On the way to the hospital, we get another call.
“Can you go pick up dad. He’s not answering his phone. Oh, and by the way, Mom has passed already.”
Apparently the shirt didn’t matter. At least not to her.
By the time we get to Dad’s house, the lights are on. He comes to the door in his PJ’s. I wait for him and follow him into the kitchen. Little is spoken. We know what’s happening, though he doesn’t “know”. He breaks the silence with, “do you know if she has passed already?” His voice is shaking a little as he struggles to put on his shoes. Many thoughts go through my head and I land on “you can’t lie to your dad.” I shake my head up and down, not wanting to speak it out loud, but still wishing to communicate an answer. He sighs and then slows his struggle. The fear of going to watch her die (or at least to get there before she does) is replaced with the fear of walking into that room. The haste to get there is gone. Now, it’s the dreading to go.
And the second guessing begins. What if… or, I should have…
We get there and find the pastors and immediate family gathered in the hall outside the room. The nurse delivers the news once again to dad. You can tell he doesn’t want to enter the room, and yet he has to see her.
3 hours later we leave the room. Nothing more we can do. At least for now. There will be lots to do in the coming days.
Interesting how as I walk through this process, you wish life could stand still. I hear and read of people going out to eat, babies being born, people starting news jobs, kids going to school. I want to scream out, “DON’T YOU REALIZE MY MOM JUST DIED!”
And yet life doesn’t operate that way. The world doesn’t stand still to recognize my loss. Many others passed that same day. And I haven’t actually recognized them.
In a few days we do take time to honor my mom. It will be a special day. And then we will go on from there. Honoring her in our own lives, just as she has honored her parents in her life. And so on.
Only one question, which shirt should I wear?
