One day your mom could be in your kitchen cooking dinner. The next she could be gone. One day you can leave for school and before you even come home, she’s gone. The latter is what happened to me.
On the morning on January 15, 2013, I knew my mom wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t think much of it, I thought it was only a cold. I went through my morning routine of brushing my hair, my teeth, and dressing myself, among other mundane tasks. Then I rushed out the door, throwing a casual “I LOVE YOU!” over my shoulder. I never expected those words to be the last words I ever spoke to my mom.
I’m glad that those were the last words I spoke to her though, though. I needed to make sure she knew I loved her. In my heart, I know she knew I loved her more than anything in the entire world. And I still do.
I went through the school day without even thinking that there was a possibility my own mother could be dying. But, during sixth hour, my heart sort of skipped a beat and I got a little nauseous. I ignored this weird sensation and went onto my seventh hour.
We were watching a movie in Spanish 2 about this guy that was traveling through a South American country, since we had a sub. I was pretty preoccupied watching this movie until a security guard comes into my classroom and speaks to the sub. The next thing I know, I’m following this security guard down the hall, thinking I’m in trouble for some reason. He blatantly asks me if I know why I’m going down to the office; my mind spirals out of control. My palms get clammy, my whole body starts to tremble. (My automatic reaction whenever I’m called down to the office.) I say that I have no idea and that I’ve never been in this kind of trouble before. (If you know me, I’m probably one of the biggest goody-two shoes ever.) He remains silent.
I enter the office through the front office door and I see my twin sister sitting on the couch with her backpack. We share a confused look, and I think I mouth her a question, asking if she knows why we’re here. She shakes her head. I’m incredibly nervous as we’re led into a conference room by an administrator. (There’s no hope in recovering who it was, there’s too much trauma.) I see my grandma, my uncle and his wife sat down at the east end if the table. There is an old man sitting one chair away from my uncle’s wife, who I later learn is the County Chaplin.
There is one person who I immediately recognize as missing. My mother. My heart starts to beat rapidly and my hands tremor. I look at my grandma, who’s teary-eyed, but trying to fake a smile. I give her a shaky smile back as she reaches for my hand. I then look to my uncle who’s eyes are red and watery. This is the first time in my life where I’ve ever seen my uncle have watery eyes. That’s when I know something’s wrong. My uncle proceeds to reach for my sister’s and I’s hands and holds them as he says, “Girls, your mother has passed away.”
My sister immediately breaks down into sobs and my uncle lets a few tears slip. I don’t cry right away. I felt like I needed to be strong for my grandma and my sister. My mom always used to be the rock of our family. I now felt as if it was my turn to be the rock. And I was… until, we went to tell my dad that my mom, his ex-wife (who he had a fairly healthy-friendly relationship with) had passed away around noon that day. He sat by my sister and I on the floor while rubbing our knees and crying along with us.
That night and a few more nights, my sister and I stayed with our dad because we just couldn’t bear going back home without seeing our mom there. We eventually went back to the house, only it didn’t quite feel like a home without our mom there.
The grieving process is different for everyone. Some peoples’ processes are shorter than others, and some are longer. Sometimes you can stay in one stage for a longer amount of time than the others. It’s different for everyone. I don’t even know which stage I was in for the most amount of time. It’s all a blur, really.
Losing someone you love more than anything, someone that has cared for you and provided for you since day one is the worst thing that can possibly happen. Simply put, it rips your heart out. But you have to get up from the lowest rung of your ladder and climb your way up to your highest.
Mama, I know you’re somewhere looking down upon me. I want you to know that I’m sorry for some of the things I said to you, some of the things I put you through, and some of the things I forced you to buy for me. I regret those things, but I am not dwelling on them. I want you to know that I loved you then, I love you now, and I will always love you. No matter what. I will always remember you. I miss you a lot, a lot, a lot, but I know you’re in a better place. I’m truly thankful for the wonderful 15 years of my life that you were apart of physically, but I am and will be even more thankful that you’re going to be apart of my future years spiritually. When I walk down the aisle at graduation, I know you’ll be there, cheering me on. When I walk down the wedding aisle, I know you’ll be there, with tears in your eyes, and with a beautiful, happy smile on your face. Even when I’m walking down the grocery store aisle, I know you’ll be there, trying to convince me to buy the store brand cereal. My point is that even if you’re not here physically, I know you’re forever with me in my heart.
In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.
-Robert Frost
Disclaimer: This took a lot of courage and bravery to write out because it’s lived in my brain since that January day. Please be gentle.
catchingbreaths 