When I reflect back on the week before her death, I knew her time was limited in the end. The physical and mental signs were there but more importantly her body was tired from three decades of dealing with mental and physical illnesses. I also remember the feelings that I felt before and after her death.
Before her death (the two weeks before) I prayed for death, one that would be painless and would release her from the pain she had in the end. The shattered hip and femur bone in conjunction with damage to her heart would ultimately lead to her death.
The day before her official death-I said goodbye and told my mother it was o.k. to go and that I would see her again one day. The night before her death I saw person paralyzed by the bridge between this world and the next one.
The day of her death- I simply saw an angel or person who was truly at peace. Seeing her in this state was the memory I wanted to remember and helped me truly understand that what happens to us in death after years of being afraid of death.
Weeks after her death-A sense of weird silence. No more emergency phone calls or trips to the hospital, no more fighting for my mother, no more worrying about my mother for me. I swear the phone did not ring for weeks.
Over the past seven years, I have learned that grief is a process, and it never leaves us. Although it can go dormant, it tends to flare up right before those significant points in time, sometimes paralysing us.
Since her death or that fateful fall season I have hated the months of October, November and December ever since 2007. Faking emotions is necessary for me, but I know that one-day complete joy during this season will return one day.
This song always reminds me of my mother:
