my sweet, sweet mama went to heaven tonight at 10:05pm.

i am devastated.  numb.  cold.  exhausted.

it’s been an incredibly long and hard ten months and an even harder 8 days and 9 nights as i sat vigil at her bedside.

it’s very surreal.  i can’t believe she’s really gone.  the last 215 hours of my life are a complete blur.

when i arrived at her apartment at highgate last week i sat vigil expecting her to go at any second.  i exhausted myself watching the sheets rise and fall with her breaths, rise and fall for over a week.  it took longer and longer and longer and LONGER and – if i’m honest – i had become very comfortable with the idea that she would be here forever.  sure – in a sad state – but here forever nonetheless.  i could come up to highgate and talk to her, sit with her, read to her, do “insert whatever i could think of here” with her.

and now… as i sit here tapping out the details of our last moments together in her sweet precious life as i sit next to her cold, lifeless body – i realize that just isn’t the case.  she really is gone from this world.  she is here no more.

my heart is broken.  my mama bear is gone.  i am an orphan.  my dad went to heaven october 3, 2008.  my cup runneth over at the thought of them riding harleys together on streets paved with gold.  dad sitting with his back against the sissy bar, of course.  gooo bad mamajama mamabear!  potato, potato, potato.  bwaaahahahahaha.  🙂

after the meds in her care pack were given to her this evening – her anxiety calmed down a little bit but she still was struggling to breathe and was working VERY hard to get the air she needed to continue to breathe.  this continued for hours.  puff, puff, exhale moan, puff, puff, exhale moan.  repeat, repeat, REPEAT.   at about 9:30pm i received a text from my aunt steph, the lone member of our family that had yet to say goodbye.

it said:  “r u alone with her?  if so i want to call her if u can hold the phone and u think she might hear.”

i’ve had my phone close by since the beginning of this journey as it filled a lot of the days and nights when i just needed a little break.

i’m 100% sure my mom was aware.  SO very aware of everything going on.  she heard – she listened – she ran the show.

i immediately called my aunt, put the phone to mama bear’s ear and my aunt talked to her for a good 30 minutes – telling her that it was time to go.  past time to go.  she told her we’d all miss her but that we’d all be ok.  she told her she needed to give up.  quit breathing right now.  she told mama bear all the things that i had already said – except she was straight.  me – well – i danced around a little bit.  because i know that’s what mom was comfortable with.  “go mama – i’m ok.  it’s time.”  my aunt took the direct approach, “sandra – you quit breathing right this instant.  you have to go – right now.  your body is tired – and the second you quit breathing you will go to heaven and see daniel, dad, grandpa, grandma.”  i have a suspicion that my mom was waiting to hear from my aunt steph.  because immediately after their conversation ended – she started to really go.  fast.  and she was gone 34 minutes after they talked.  i will say though, that she was waiting for THIS day to go.  i know that.  i am certain.  my gut has told me she’d go today for weeks.  i knew it.

what’s crazy though, is looking back at tonight (and the last 4 years) – i never was able to communicate with mama bear effectively.  i spent the last 4 years talking to her the way i would have wanted to be talked to.  ironically – i’ve spent the last 4 years being dead honest with her.  telling it like it is.  and since she started to die – i’ve tried to protect her.  be gentle about things.  there has been lots of doctors appointments where i’ve stepped outside to get the real truth and talked in code inside the office with my mamas.  who would have thought that what put so much controversy into our relationship in the last 4 years is what she needed to finally let go?

aunt steph – i am so incredibly grateful for what you did.  i know it was so hard to talk to mom tonight – but it made so much difference.  thank you for doing what i’ve been TRYING to do for days and days and days.  you can lead a sandra to water – but you can’t make her drink.  tonight, sweet auntie, you dunked her head it and it was exactly what she needed.  <3

when the conversation ended – her puff, puff, exhale began to get quieter and slower.  this continued until she’d breath and pause, breath and pause.  i kept right at her – telling her the things my auntie had just told her – begging her to let go.  “please mama – you have to go.  right now.  just give up.  you have to.  you are fighting a losing battle and it’s killing me mama.  to see you in this pain and this panic your running is killing me.  i’m gonna be ok.  please mama.  i’m begging you.  let gooooo.”

i held her hand tightly to my chest and she began to relax.  earlier – those tightly coiled fingers had to be pryed open.  towards the end – she began to get limp.  her fever dropped off.  that spot in her neck that was jumping like crazy completely stopped.  she REALLY started mottling.  her eyes were rolling around in her head.  up – then down – then up – then at me – then down.  i’d like to think that the “ups” is when she saw my dad.  my old toby dog… but honestly – i’m not sure.  i thought i’d feel him there and i didn’t.  maybe he was just blocked by the HUGE emotions in that room.

with my mama’s third and second to last breaths she fixed her eyes on mine.  after her second to last breath – she did something i will never EVER forget.  this woman, who hasn’t had a drink of water since sunday morning (it’s now friday night) looked directly at me and said, “i love you.”  you guys – clear as day.  well – not really clear as day – but clear as someone who hadn’t spoken and who’s mouth was dry and hard and tight from being open for days could.  she hasn’t spoken a word in 5 days.  nothing.  her tongue was hard as a rock – her mouth has been open for breathing for days.  it was like she came alive again – in that instant RIGHT before her last breath.  it was like she was headed out – but turned around, came back into her old dying body – told me she loved me using said broken vessel – and was gone.  just like that.  she took one last taxed puff, puff, exhale and that was it.

i BURST into tears.  “ohhh mama – i love you too.  do you hear me?!  i love you too – more than you’ll EVER know.  i love you mama.  i love you SO much.”

there were about 5 more completely blocked 100% fish out of water breaths where she tried to get air and there was none and then she was gone.  mouth and eyes open – looking right me.  she took that last breath and her body was instantly empty and it was silent.  i glanced at the clock, 10:05 pm.  i cried harder than i’ve ever cried.  louder than i’ve ever cried.  i couldn’t control it.  my sweet mama was gone.

then i prayed.  “father god – thank you!  thank you for taking my mama home and giving her the much needed peace and rest she needed.  father god – i thank you so much for putting her on loan to me.  i thank you for such an amazing woman – my very best friend – through good and bad.  lord god – i thank you for these last hours – even though they were incredibly hard – i thank you for lending my mama your supernatural power to tell me one last time, “i love you.”

it was worth it.  i’d do it again an in instant.  even though it was SO much harder than i ever imagined – the end was worth it.  i knew she’d do something.  i certainly didn’t ever dream she’d tell me – in her physical body – she loved me the instant before she went – but i knew she’d do something.  kevin (who has been amazingly supportive through this) asked me several times, “why do you feel you need to be there to watch it all play out?  you’ve been there – you are there in the living room too.  she knows it.”  hospice too – they’ve said, “and you don’t feel comfortable in the living room?  you can still hear her – she’s breathing pretty loud.”  no.  and no.  i wanted to be right there.  i wanted to be RIGHT by her side to usher her into the kingdom of heaven.  i wanted to be there as she took that last breath.  i needed to.  she was my mama.

as soon as she passed and i realized there was no more breaths – for sure.  i just let it go.  i cried for 20 minutes.  then i laid next to her and cuddled up to her.  her body was still warm.  i grabbed her far arm and pulled her onto her side so i could wrap myself in those arms one last time.  i laid there, in her arms, for another 10 minutes just crying.  telling her thank you and telling her how proud i was of her.  how much i’d miss her.

then i carefully grabbed my phone, so not to disturb my mamas arms wrapped around me and called kevin.  “hello?”  he said.  “i neeeedddd you here.  pleaaaseee.  can you cooome?  righhht now?”  i wailed.  “i’m on my way.”  he instantly knew.

i hung up and just soaked in those last precious moments of alone time with her.  i smelled her hair and snuggled my face into hers.  i just soaked in every ounce of my mama that i could – because she was gone and these were what will be the last of our time like this for a hopefully long while.

i was silent.  just taking it all in and next thing i know – kev walked in the door.  (sidenote: in the past – dead bodies have been weird.  even my dad’s.  but this was different.  she was my mama.  and i saw this through from the very beginning.  start to finish.  and for whatever reason – it totally wasn’t weird.  at. all.)  he slowly inched toward my mom’s room and realized i had wrapped myself up in her.  it might have weirded him out.  i got up from the bed and ran to him.  he stroked my hair and rubbed my back while i wailed into his chest.  i just let it go.  i couldn’t stop it.  my heart was IS broken.

i couldn’t stay there forever.  i couldn’t lay in that bed all night.  although – i wanted to.  for a moment i wished i wouldn’t have called anyone so soon.  but – i pulled it together and called hospice.  marcia lives about 30 minutes from highgate so i was alloted some more time.  i started to walk out of the bedroom and i couldn’t.  something compelled me to stay in there.  i couldn’t leave her.  so i got back into bed and held her hand.

i called my aunt steph first – told her to go to my grandma’s because i was calling her next and she’d need her.  then i called my aunt sherrill and told her to buy my aunt steph a little more time to get to my grandma’s house.  i was really tearful with my aunts – but i needed to pull it together for my grandma.  i took a couple deep breaths and dialed the number.  if i remember correctly – i was able to get through the conversation without crying.  i almost did – but i pulled it together.  miracle.

hospice got there in the meantime and called the funeral home.  they’d be there in about an hour.

hospice took mom’s pump needle out of her belly and helped me change her into clean jammies.  then marcia went into the livingroom to do paperwork.  my last few minutes of alone time with my mama.

gah.  my heart is aching.  i can’t tell you how much i ALREADY miss her.  i told her that the funeral people were coming to get her.  and i told her i know she’s gone and just her body was left.  the silence in that room was SO loud.  after listening to her breathing and gasping for air for 9 days – her being silent was so wrong.

then – a knock.  it was a very kind man from the funeral home.  he said, “i’m very pleased you did so much pre-planning.  the next few days will be much easier on you.  you can work with stephanie (the girl i pre-planned with) and she’ll call you tomorrow.  have you had enough time?”  i started to cry as i clung to my mama.  “yes.”

so he went into the hall and wheeled his gurney into her bedroom.  do you want to step out for a moment?  i didn’t… but i did.  it was best for my heart.  he closed the door behind me.

then – after a few minutes had passed – the door opened and he came outside.  “i’m ready to take your mom into my care now.  is that ok?”  i started to cry again.  “yes.”  he said, “i’m going to bring her downstairs to my vehicle ann..”  “can i come?”  i interrupted.  “absolutely.  you understand her face is covered, right?  that’s just for the other residents.  just in case we run into one.”  i said i understood and that was ok.

then he wheeled her out.  i thought i was ready… i wasn’t.  he had placed her in a ruby red bag.  it was zipped.  i cried and went to open the door for him.  i immediately placed my hand on the gurney and we silently walked down the hall and got into the elevator.  i pushed the main floor button and we started to move.  all the while – my hand on my sweet mama.  the elevator door opened and kev and i got out first – then my mama and the director.  we walked down the hall and out into the cold clear night.  he loaded her into his vehicle and said, “i’ll talk good care of her – i promise.”  then he shut the door, shook my hand and drove away with my mama into the night.

devastation.  i started wailing again.  my mama bear was gone.  gone from this world – gone from my sight – gone from highgate.  after i stood in the night – breathing in the cold brisk air and crying more tears for my mama – kevin hugged me, let me cry and held my hand as we walked back in to the building.  it was empty.  it was instantly an entirely new place.  completely different than the place i’ve known as mama bears’ home since july.  my heart ACHES.

we got into the elevator – i pushed three.  it went up.  the door opened and i froze.  i couldn’t get out.  i just cried.  and cried.  then the door dinged and opened and the hospice nurse was on her way down.  she hugged me and we parted ways.  (i really REALLY missed you edye.  marcia was great – but i missed you like crazy sweet lady).

kev and i walked down the empty dark hall to mom’s room.  i put my hand on the door handle – hesitated – and walked in.  it was a sad place.  so empty without her.  i walked back into her room and threw myself down on the bed.  i still felt her warmth in the spot where she died.  i relaxed my head and my neck shifted into the place holder my mama bear’s head was in when she died.  tilted left – looking at me.  there i was – in her bed – in her still warm place – where she had just died.  there really are no words.  my heart is absolutely broken.

and so… following suit – i started wailing again.  it was just so surreal.  kev and i packed my things and started to turn out the lights.  i left her lamp on.  the same way i have done for the last 9 nights.  we slowly walked out the door and it slammed behind us.  “goodbye sweet mama.  i love you so much.”

and here i am.  sitting in my bedroom closet at home with the door closed – typing away – as the rest of the house is sound asleep.  this, being up, was my new normal.  i have no one’s chest to watch.  no one to make sure is still breathing.  no one to snuggle up to and tell every little thing so i have no regrets when they are gone.  no one’s mouth to swab.  no clock to watch to make sure the med techs are bringing the meds on time.  no pain pump morphine button to push.  no mama bear.  she is gone.  i am lost.  and devastated.

today is my birthday.  my mama left on the day i was born – 29 years earlier.  her – 59.  me – 29.  the days leading up to this day were sad.  i knew she was waiting for november 2.  i just knew.  and i was anxious.  i didn’t want this terrible event to happen on my birthday.  i didn’t want it to “ruin” it every year.  i vowed to celebrate half birthdays instead.  i didn’t want my mama to go today.

but she did.  and i’ve had a short time to process it.  and i realized it’s an incredible gift.  when my dad was on his deathbed 4 years ago i foolishly promised him i’d make sure my mom went to heaven.  bad move.  but i’ve been thinking about it ever since.  praying that somehow god would open her heart and mind and that she would call out to him.  and she did – in septemeber.  in the hospital.  and what better gift?  what else could she give?  what an incredible thing to be able to celebrate the day your mom went to heaven than on your birthday?  we are forever connected in an entirely new way.  god answered my prayer in a way i never could have imagined.  i did fulfill my promise dad.  thank you jesus.  absolutely incredible.

here’s to you mama bear.  i love you more than you’ll ever know.  you are the only one who’s been there since the beginning.  not only did i love you unconditionally – you loved me that way too.  i’m so grateful to have such an amazing woman as my mother.  i miss you so much and can’t WAIT to see you again someday.

and so… it’s over.  it. is. finished.  and god looked into my mama’s beautiful eyes and said, “well done good and faithful servant.  welcome to paradise” tonight.  absolutely incredible.

i’m so sleep deprived.  and heartbroken.  i’m headed to bed for tonight.

thanks for taking this journey with me.  i’m glad you’re here.

until soon,

*m