One of the things that i'm often asked about my Mama passing away from cancer is if i was thankful for the time to say "good-bye" to her. I have always answer "no" to that question, then have to explain how very,very grateful i was for the 4/5 months that i was able to semi-live with her and my dad towards the end of her life, but that i wished that she didn't have to suffer with the pain that she had. I truly believe, in my heart, that i would have preferred her to pass away suddenly than to have to watch my Mama suffer the way she did. To watch someone you love suffer in pain, day after day, and not be able to do anything but offer more, and more stronger pain-killing drugs (and pray silently to yourself hourly) is the most difficult thing that i've ever done. There were times when nothing seemed to comfort her; not drugs, not the presence of friends or prayers gently whispered.
Although i'm thankful for the strong drugs that tried to drive her pain away, those very same drugs made her incoherent and bedridden. She wasn't able to communicate with me for a lot of the last few months. Christmas Eve was the last time she was out of her bed; my Dad wanted her to see the Christmas tree. In a way, it was as though she had already left me, but her body was doing what all of our bodies are designed to do: survive. I would lay next to her on the bed, holding her hand as she slept or napped, talking softly to her, telling her all of the things i knew i needed to tell her before she passed away, yet feeling as though she wasn't present in her body. Oddly enough, i felt her "in" the room, so i would keep talking, and talking. I would tell her about the child Robert and i were one day hoping to adopt, how much i loved Robert, how i would look after Claudine, that i was finally happy and on the right track, that i was sorry for not coming home that one Christmas because i just didn't want to celebrate Christmas in the mist of my divorce. I should have come home that Christmas; not to celebrate, but to be taken care of by her.
She and i cried together only once: the day that i first arrived to stay. We were in her bedroom together, and i was putting her to bed, tucking her in, praying and begging, as hard as i could to myself that God would somehow, some way, get rid of all of the cancer in her body. What was i going to do without her? I continued to tuck her in, as she did me for so many years, and i started to cry. She sat up, wrapped her arms around me and told me that it was okay, that this is the way it was, and that i would be okay. That Robert was with me now...and of course, i just continued to cry. Although i am so very grateful that God put Robert into my life just when i would need him the most, i didn't want to trade my mother in. My Mom was suppose to live into her nineties, like she and i had talked about so many times. She wasn't suppose to leave me this soon, and certainly not like this. Certainly she wasn't suppose to leave me like this...
I don't remember telling her 'good-bye'. I remember telling her one night in January as i tucked her in, that when she was ready to leave us, to go to her father and brother who were waiting for her, that she should and that we would be okay. As i whispered this to her that night, i remember thinking to myself "I'll be okay, but nothing will ever, ever be the same" as the tears came. My sweet Mama had already fallen asleep, snoring softly, as i talked and tucked her in but i was glad that i managed to say those words because i never thought that i would. My prayers to God had changed dramatically in the last two months. I was now begging God to please, please take her, to stop this suffering, that enough was enough and she deserved peace. I felt horrible praying this because i didn't want her to die, yet in order for her to have peace and for the pain to stop, she would have to die. I wanted her to stay with me, but i knew she needed to go.
And she finally did, one early morning in January. I was thankful that it was over for her and she was now at peace. But the loss i felt and still feel daily, is so very great. It is although my heart is missing a huge piece. I try to look after my sister as i promised my Mama i would, but that has proven to be more difficult than i would have imagined. Claudine and i feel her presence missing so much when we are together...we are sad sometimes when we are together, thinking how things should be different. But we have managed to find comfort in cooking the things that she loved to cook for us, and talking about her. And in that way, i suppose, our hearts are trying to heal a little.
This weekend, i'm leaving for Atlanta to visit Ms. Jo, my friend who is now in hospice care. I still have not a clue how to say 'good-bye' so i'm not going to. If anything, i should say to her, "See you later" as one day, i will see her again.
Just as i will my Mama.
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