Goodbye, Mom
Circa 1976. Mom was classy af.
My mom passed away on Friday April 17th, one week ago today. She was only 70; we would have celebrated her 71st birthday tomorrow. I knew the end was near, but I did not anticipate the speed at which the cancer that filled her lungs to the brim was going to destroy her. It started with an incidentally discovered mass which rapidly progressed to a chemo-resistant mess of mucus that as bad luck would have it, turned out to be undruggable. All hope vanished with every test result. She went from walking two miles a day to requiring 24/7 supplemental oxygen in three weeks. She first only needed fewer than 5 liters of oxygen, then a bad bout of pneumonia upped the oxygen requirement to 7-8 liters of oxygen. She was hospitalized three times in less than 2 months. And the third time she went to the hospital, she never came home. The suffering was so unbearable - she could not talk, get out of bed, or even get more than a few short bouts of sleep. In the end, at least most of the family was there with her to hold her hand, shower her with gratitude, and say our goodbyes as she took her last breath.
It was the worst day of my life.
The last couple months ripped her apart – being so sick and fragile also meant that she could not easily leave the house, confined to her room and oxygen machine. I couldn’t bring my 1-year old daughter close to her, fearing that a daycare-acquired infection could kill her. All of us had to constantly wear masks while visiting, and even then, we needed to keep our distance. It was a lonely, miserable existence. Every bad test result eroded her will to keep fighting, knowing the odds were not in her favor. As the disease progressed, the suffering worsened, and living became unbearable.
I keep replaying over and over in my head the decisions that were made throughout the course of the disease and mentally revisiting those horrible nights in the hospital, in the ED, and in the ICU. The first few days following her death, the anguish was all-consuming. Throughout her life, my mom hardly asked for much – she sacrificed practically everything for her family. She didn’t leave behind anything particularly expensive, but she left behind probably a thousand books and notebooks full of her writing. She was a bookworm, a forever student who immersed herself in studying well after completing her formal education. Two days before she died, I read her my last blog post, just to make sure it was accurate, but also so she didn’t have to do any talking. I can at least take solace in the fact that she still likes my writing.
It’s been just a week, but I suspect the grief will never end. Knowing that I can never call her ever again, give her a hug, or see her smile at my daughter is a tough reality to face. And I just wish I didn’t take all those good times for granted. She had so many stories to tell, thoughts to share, and smiles to give. All I can do now is to carry on her legacy the best way I can.
Life was too short for my mom. Don’t make the same mistakes as me. I regret every dumb, hurtful thing I said to her out of spite. Spend time with your mothers. I am glad I took so much extra time I took to be with her in her last few weeks. I didn’t know she would pass so fast, but I wasn’t going to let work or house chores get in the way of being with her. Even if the outcome wasn’t going to change, every decision to skip workouts and bedtime routines and normal meals to go help her and make her comfortable were 1000% worth it.
