What would you do if you were told you had only 30 days to live? For my mother, it only took 30 days for her to go to from an accident to death. Something I often I reflect on as I approach the 30 day period, October 3 to November 3. It’s like a reminder of how sweet and precious life is and how we should live it to the fullest.
30 days for most is short time, but for my mother it was a long period of time, when she and her family had to slowly watch her body systems fail. As a pre-teen and teenager I use to think my mother probably won’t live past 60, she was three years short.
It’s amazing what a human spirit will do when they begin to realize the end is near. For my mother, she seem to know but was holding on a little longer just to give us and others time to come to grips (I realized it that night I got the call). In true, Tina fashion, she and I argued about her not eating. I you see was the one that always stayed on her about her health, and would often sell her out when I accompanied her to the doctor. As the near grew closer, I realized that it was necessary for me to let my mother know that it was OK for her to let go and go on to a place a peace. It was one of the hardest things I ever said to someone, but I knew it was necessary. I simply told her if she was tired it was OK to give up and that we would be OK. This is explains why I did not get a going away call. In her final week, she did call both sisters and Uncle Charlie to say an unofficial goodbye. I still remember my Aunt Madeline telling me that my mom usually ended her calls with her by saying, “I will talk to you later”, there last call she simply ended with a “goodbye”.
The last 30 days of my mother’s life truly taught me a valuable lesson about death: it will come, not always an easy process, but in the end you will have peace.
I still remember day 29, when I walked into her hospital room to find her body being supported by machines. In true Doctor Cherie fashion, I did the normal checking if you are really here (test for reflexes) and discovered there were none. Only a face of fear and pain, which was saying to us living beings please DO NOT, let me stay in this state. Luckily for us, my mother always talked about not wanting to be a vegetable and wanting to donate her body to science. Both wishes we were able to give her. That night we DNR here.
Day 30, I knew would come. So I intentionally stalled going to the hospital that morning to avoid the bells and whistles. When I got the final call that she had passed, both my father and I went to see her one final time. Best thing I could have done, because when I walked into the room, I saw the face of an Angel-a woman who was no longer in pain and her face said, “I am at peace.”
Although, I know longer remember her voice or her smell, I remember her spirit and legacy and it lives in me always. This is why I always will take time to write a little tribute to her each year in reflection of the human being she was and how her tremendous ability to deal with pain and heartache should be an inspiration to us all.
Mom and Lucille's last photo together.
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