A BITTERSWEET MEMORY

A BITTERSWEET MEMORY



I have never been one to write short stories, preferring to write poems, but I have to tell of the most bittersweet memory I have. It is the night I lost the best friend I've had and the one who was the most important person in my life (besides my fiancee and daughter that is) and that is my Mom. She was diagnosed with lung cancer in August of 2002. We were all crushed to learn of this because Mom already had COPD, (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease) and was on oxygen all the time. She had no chance of survival from the lung cancer and it was an awful blow to know that we were going to lose her to it. The doctor said if she could have the tumor removed, she would survive, but with the COPD, it just could not be done. He did offer radiation therapy in hopes to shrink the tumor, but he did not hold out too much hope.
We went through the radiation therapy with her and it did shrink the tumor which we were happy for and had some hope that maybe, just maybe she would survive! But she started having other problems. Her lung collapsed and we had to rush her to the hospital for that. She started to retain water and she was hospitalized for that. She had to go on a salt free diet and the battles that ensued with that dietary change were almost comical, because through all her illnesses, my Mom remained feisty! Her last hospitalization was in July, right after her birthday and she stayed in until almost the end of August. Before leaving the hospital, her doctor cried as he told us that she was dying. The cancer had moved into her liver. He knew how important she was to us and everyone she touched. It was with a heavy heart that I took her home to die.
We had hospice come in and if it were not for their help, we would not have been prepared for when the time finally came. They gave us a good idea of what would happen. I had given up smoking and started back with the strain of what was happening. Mom was not happy with that, and I know in time, I will give it up again. I know I will, for her and for my daughter and my grand kids. It is an ugly filthy habit and I saw what it did to Mom and saw the struggle she had giving it up. But she gave it up too late.
Before she passed away, we talked a lot about her dying and leaving us. She also told me some things that she was concerned about with the family and some of the things she wished would change or how she wished things would be. I told her not to worry, that we all would be fine. We would have to learn how to solve our own problems. The one thing I hold true to my heart is when she told me she appreciated me and how she did not know how she would have made it when Dad died, if it was not for me. I hung my head and told her I don't see how she could say that, because I was not special, and I only did what I could. I told her that I was mean and impatient with her and how could she call me a good daughter? And she asked me how I thought that and I recounted all the times I snapped at her and what was told to me by other family members. She looked at me and said, “I understand, if no one else does, how hard it was for you to see me so sick all the time. You worked a full day and had to come home to take care of me. You were tired and hurting to see me this way. I recall you telling me many times, if you could give me your health, you would. No one was here to see or hear those things, but I am and I appreciate everything you have done for me and for your Dad." Then she wiped away the tears that was falling down my face and gave me one of her rare kisses. Then she cried and told me she was afraid of leaving me alone, afraid I would be lonely. I reassured her I would find my way and for her to rest her mind.
That was the last heart to heart talk I had with my Mom. In the early morning of September 17, 2003, I sat up suddenly in bed. I figured I had slept through hearing Mom call for her nightly pain medication. I went into her room and instantly noticed that her breathing was labored and had a mucous rattle to it. I turned on the light and saw her with her oxygen out of her nose and her nightgown half off. She looked at me and whispered that she was going home. I went over to the bed and when I touched her, her body felt cold and clammy and hard. I knew she was dying then and I felt heartsick. I pulled her nightgown up, put the oxygen back in her nose and whispered to her and asked if she wanted her pain medication. She shook her head no and I started stroking her hair, trying hard not to cry. I did not want to let her go, but I knew she did not want me to do anything, just let her go peacefully, to let her go home. The room was quiet, just me and her. Again I asked her if she wanted her medication and she shook her head yes this time. I gave it to her, and then I stood there stroking her hair for a while. Listening to her labored breathing, knowing it would be the last time I would even hear her breath. My heart was breaking in 10 million pieces and I wished I could make it last forever, but I knew I couldn't so reluctantly I kissed her cheek and told her I loved her and she nodded. I knew that was her way of telling me she loved me too. I knew she would hold on as long as I was there, so I kissed her one last time and turned off the light and let her go home to God alone…..