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Mother's Day 2010 So it's Mother's Day 2010. With that it's time for me to sit back and reflect a little about my mom and give her the credit that she deserves. After all, if it wasn't for moms, who else would be the band-aids of our lives? Here is just a sampling of key points about my mom: *She can't tell jokes. The punchline would come out before she's done setting the joke up. You can tell when she realizes this and
she begins to laugh hysterically. My Mom. Regardless, my mom has always been one of the more caring people around. Ask anyone who knows her. There were not many she didn't like. As for my friends, oh did she love them. She treated each one like family and when they left, she would go on and on about them and how great they are and how much she loves them, especially one that she saw as her "other son." Sadly, we lost our mom in February 2005 due to complications with pneumonia. Despite all the fun stuff, my mom suffered for most of her life with Multiple Sclerosis and Fibromyalgia. Life became unbearable at times for her as the years went on. However, despite that, she did everything she could not to show how much pain she was in, except for the immediate family. Otherwise, you almost thought everything was wonderful as you could never really tell. She may talk about it, but you never really saw it or felt it, again to the outside world, except maybe towards the end. As the years went on the less mobile she became. My dad did everything for her, and because of him, she probably got to do much more than someone else in her condition would have, although I'm sure it wasn't as much as they had wished for. Have you ever been to Boston, New York or Washington D.C. and just walked? Especially on the bricks of Boston? My dad took her to those places and pushed her all over with her in a wheelchair. That's love and devotion right there for you. They both wanted to experience the cities and he made sure she did, despite how hard it must have been for him. After many years of MS, she could no longer walk and because of the pain from fibromyalgia, she sat on ice packs to numb the pain. Of course, the ice packs would always make her cold, so she had a small heater on her all the time. At times it got so hot, that we could lose five pounds by just walking into the room. I can only imagine how lonely she must have felt at times, being by herself and limited most of the time. In her final year, we often spoke about life and death. She was tired of living the way she was and felt she was becoming more and more of a burden on all of us, especially my dad as he was starting to suffer physical pain. She prayed every night for it to come to an end. She told me once, "I don't think there is a God." To my surprise, I replied, "What? Why do say that?" Her response, "I pray every night, and yet I still wake up in the morning." It's very hard to hear that from anybody, but to hear it from your own mother makes it twice as hard. Moms aren't suppose to get sick or die young. So, I had to explain to her that God isn't ready for her yet. Heck, I was 40 (at that time) and I'm still getting used to you. She smiled and started to really laugh. It made her feel good. A couple of days before she passed, a moment in the hospital made me realize just how much of a fighter she was. I was just in awe as I watched and listened. At one point only my dad, my brother and I were in the room. Then my dad left, as my brother and I held her hands and talked to her. She acted tough as though she was going to make it, even though we knew she wasn't. After my brother left, my mom changed. She looked at me and asked if both my dad and brother were gone. I nodded. She said to me, "you know I'm ready to go." After my internal shock of hearing her say that, I nodded. She thanked me for being there her final year and just listening to her. She waited to tell me this alone, because of our talks she knew I would be alright with it, but she worried about my brother and dad. She didn't want them to hear her because they may not understand and they would worry. She didn't want them to worry. Always looking out for us until the very end. I was definately caught off guard with that, but yet I felt comforted too. She told me how proud she was of how her boys turned out in life and that we became real men. Then, she made me promise to look after the family, especially dad, because she was worried about him. I promised. With that being said, she did a quick change as the nurse came into her room to check her fluids. My mom put that suction hose back in her mouth and with every little bit of strength she had left, she tried to get that pneumonia out of her. She turned to the nurse and told her, "I have to fight. I have to get better. I have to be here for my boys, they need me." I just looked at her in amazement. Even to the end, she was NOT going to let others know how defeated she was. Since my mom's passing, I have had my share of medical stuff over the last couple of years, and even had one foot in the grave as well and yet, I refuse to go. Although I'm glad she wasn't here to see me go through what I went through, I now know I truly get my inspiration from both my parents and all that they had to endure. I would be remiss if I didn't repeat one her last lines spoken. It goes in line with the humorous list above. About midnight (the night before she passed), construction crews began work on the carpet outside her door with loud noises. She actually thought that she was at home watching TV and that someone was banging on our front door trying to break in; she was scared. With only my dad, my brother, my sister-in-law and I in the room, my sister-in-law asked my mom if she would like for her to take care of it. Now my mom was only living on full oxygen and had no idea where she was or anything, then said, "Yes, you take care of it, (pause) cuz sometimes you can be a real bitch." I can't think of any other way to end a life than with that line. Nothing against my sister-in-law, but that gave us four the much needed comic relief we have been yearning for all week. We laughed like there was no tomorrow. In some really bizarre way, it truely was a great family moment. Well, the next day, with my brother, my sister-in-law and I holding one hand and my grandfather holding her other hand, my mom simply passed away without any problems, pain or issues. The moment was perfect. With all the pain she suffered, she left this planet without any pain at all. Rest In Peace Mom, you are missed. I think I'm going to go make myself a pink-breaded hamburger....... |