Two Years

The day after Thanksgiving marks the 2nd anniversary of my mom's death. And let me tell you, each year, I relive the horrible week we weren't really prepared for. It all starts on Halloween when I remember how my mom was heading to Israel and how she had a hard time breathing on the plane. My dad told me and I felt so sad for her. She always wanted to go to Israel and she was on her way, but not with 100% lung capacity.......... and with a group of strangers. It was a little risky health-wise, but she was determined. She struggled through the trip, but she made it!

When she returned, it wasn't long. She was scheduled for a surgery to help reduce the amount of fluid going into her lungs and I didn't think much of it. I remember getting the call that things didn't go well and how my dad actually thought she was going to die during the surgery (which they didn't even do). Life was never that same after that. A surgery turned into hours and days at the hospital watching our mom stop eating and eventually doing a lot of sleeping (which we later found out was a coma). We all took turns staying, and when I couldn't stay, my sister and I texted updates about our mom all night. It was so surreal and we felt so helpless.

When our mom was awake, we all tried to stay so positive. We'd excuse ourselves and cry in the hall. I remember one day when I arrived I was told in the hall that she had a huge tumor and they couldn't do anything about it. It was pretty much the worst thing to hear. I walked into the room, sat on the bed with my mom and cried while I hugged her. I told her I was sorry I was crying and she said, "I know, this is tough stuff." I wish I could write that after that point I asked her important questions, soaked up her wisdom or even listened to her talk about her life, but things went fast, it was busy with visitors and I just didn't think she was going to die (denial maybe).

When she was awake, she didn't really talk much or would try to fall back to sleep. I do have a memory of all of us trying to get her to eat. My dad went out and bought her a blizzard. She wasn't even close to interested in it and if you knew my mom, you know that wasn't normal. We all have an amazing sweet tooth. She gave us a look and I knew she wasn't going to eat anymore. This was one of the many signs that her body was done fighting. It was hard to see and it only got worse.

It is amazing how much I miss my mom (and especially this week) and all the memories I have of her last weeks alive. I wish I could call her up or go and cuddle with her on the green couch. Today I heard a song from her funeral and I cried in the kitchen. Yesterday, I heard another song that just reminded me of her and I cried as I was driving with my kids. I try to talk about my mom with the boys, but they don't really remember her. This is the hardest thing for me. I wanted my kids to know my mom and have fun memories with her. But I will continue to talk about her, show pictures of her and sing some of her favorite songs with my kids. They might not know her the way I wanted, but they will at least know a part of her.

It feels good to write about this......and I'm sure there will be more this week.