Thank you for being a friend

Last night was one of the first nights I slept in my own house again. I am not overly upset to be here but it does feel very strange, because even though mom hadn't been here since September 14th, and I was here by myself for the majority of that time, I at least had the image of being able to bring her home. I pictured Dad and I on either side of her, holding her steady and walking her up our front stairs into the front door. We would walk her to the living room and sit her down on the couch, and we would stand there and watch her breathe a long, deep sigh of relief. I used to picture that all the time, when I'd be sad about being alone in this house. I'd picture her face, so content and so happy and filled with joy to simply be home with her family, what she always wanted.

During the last 48 hours of her life, starting with her blood pressure dropping in her room and the decision to move her to ICU, she cried alot, and asked us to take her home. "I just want to go home," she'd say, over and over again, and the corners of her mouth would turn down and she'd sob a few times. She wanted to be home so badly, just for things to be normal again. I don't know if she knew what was happening to her. I really hope she didn't. I would give anything to know that she was unaware of the danger that began that night. She was so scared of all of those people around her and all of the chaos, and she kept asking where I was. I was sitting in the corner of the room, rocking slightly in my seat, back and forth, back and forth, asking God not to do this to us. I'd get up and grab her hand and say, "I'm right here mom," and her eyes would finally catch mine and she'd smile. I wish I could really describe her smile. I know I tried in a previous post but I don't think it will ever really translate the way I'd like it to, to make it completely understood. All I can say over and over about it is that it was so sweet. She'd breathe an airy and angelic "Hi," every time she saw me. She was just so sweet.

This morning I woke up again in complete disbelief. Did that really happen? Are you sure you really saw that? All of that? I still do not understand, my brain doesn't grasp it yet. She's gone. She's really gone.

I got out pictures of her and shuffled through them. I love to look at her, her beautiful, smiling face and her bright eyes. She was truly in her element, at her happiest, when she was with her family, and it is so evident to see in these pictures. They make me so happy. I will always cherish them, forever.

Last night, to have noise in my room, I turned on the Golden Girls. If you know me even just a little, you know my undying love for the Golden Girls and that I've seen nearly every episode. (Try not to be too jealous...) They have become somewhat of a comfort to me lately, since they play almost all night long and again in the morning. I do not like my room to be quiet, especially now. I don't pay attention to the episodes, but I turn down the volume until I can barely hear it, and then I just lay there and wait to fall asleep. Although I took a Xanex, I had a very restless night of sleep, and I remember tossing and turning over and over again. But I can't remember what I dreamed about. Maybe I never got to sleep fully enough to dream. I woke up this morning again to the Golden Girls. I just re-read this paragraph and realized how pathetic it is. Anyway, an episode of the Golden Girls came on that I'd never seen before, and I remembered my mom in the hospital, before she went up to Cleveland Clinic. She was having a round of chemo, in the hospital near our house, and she was awake most nights, and she too watched the Golden Girls all night long. I was sitting on the foot of her bed, like I did so often with her, and she said, "Guess what?" I thought she was going to tell me something really great about what the doctor said or how wonderful she felt that day, despite the chemo..."I saw an episode of the Golden Girls last night I've never seen before!" I just laughed at her and shook my head, and she started to giggle, that cute little giggle that just warmed my heart. "Awesome, mom." She just smiled, almost like she was proud. "Yep!"