I watched her die.

One year ago today, I watched one of the most important, most influential people in my life cross over.

The strange thing is that I had been up all night one year ago, just as I was tonight. And at this time (6am) last year, I was calling my brother, confessing a heroin addiction – telling him that I would be dope sick unless I got some sort of fix. Reluctantly, he offered me ultram and xanax. Which at the time that I met up with him an hour later, to my surprise – really did the trick.

My brother, Rob, had just driven twenty-seven hours straight all the way from Montana. Chad (the second of my three brothers) got his cue at 6:15 to head to the hospital. Shawn (the last) had been there at the hospital for more than 48 hours.

My mother.

She wanted all her children there at the same time. She had been repeating “all of my children…?” And at 6:55am, I met Rob outside the hospital, and he handed me four pills, which I gladly took. And a half hour later, my three brothers and I stood in a circle around our mother in her hospital bed. We prayed and talked to her, though at this point, she was no longer conscious.

Lung cancer.

My mother died a slow death. she was diagnosed March 9th, 2011 and died September 13th, 2011. Six months and four days. Actually, by any standards that’s pretty quick.

So, my brother Shawn was exhausted after having been in the hospital for so long, my brother Rob was exhausted after having driven all the way from Montana without stopping, and my brother Chad needed to go to a Boy Scout event with his son. They departed around 11am, except Chad who stayed until around 4:30.

My mother was pronounced dead at 5:56pm, although when I looked at the clock when she actually died it was around 5:41.

I had told my brother Rob that I didn’t want to be the one at the hospital when she died, that I wanted to be the one that got the call. However, that certainly wasn’t the case.

Perhaps my beloved creator thought that it was necessary for me to experience it this way, no matter how painful it was. I can only deduct that this was a divine experience that I had. After all, it has only led me down a path to sobriety and a spiritual depth that I could not have imagined before.

I am plagued by physical pain on a daily basis but nothing compares to this emotional pain. The difference is what I now consider to be substantial.

When my mother was taking her last breath she mouthed the words “I love you” over and over. Mind you, this is after having been unconscious for three and a half days. I held her hand for over an hour before and almost 30 minutes after she died. I felt her hand go cold.

There is no human being who I’ve ever lost – and there’s been 28 – that I’ve ever missed so much. My mother taught me love, how to give love, how to be loved, how to lose love, but most importantly she taught me why you should love in the first place. A most beautiful and remarkable woman.

Love upon a deeper level.

Today is a lesson for me. Everything that we experience whether it be good, bad, in between – it doesn’t matter – we are meant to learn from it! We’re meant to grow spiritually, mentally, emotionally.

She has no grave. So, this blog is my way of paying my respects to the only woman I’ve ever known who greeted life as fearlessly and as openly and she greeted death. For love that was once beyond my understanding – that is not now – because of this woman. For my earthly mother, who gave me life.

DoB: Saturday, August 14th, 1948 to Tuesday, September 13th, 2011.
Age at death: 63 years and 30 days.

Love & Light.

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