Mom's Lessons

Prologue

It's a Wednesday morning, it was supposed to be my first day at my first real job. Not the normal 16-year-old fast-food worker, but working at a theme park selling photos. I was excited, ready to finally be able to go somewhere besides school and have money to hang out with friends. Going to bed the night before I had dreams of how awesome it was gonna be, the people I would meet. Unfortunately, that's not how the day went.

My father woke me up at 5:00am before my alarm. Confused, I asked what was wrong and why he had woke me up.

He replies, "Your mother is in the hospital."

By 7:00am we were picking up the rental car and on the road. A 10-hour drive we made in 8 and as the trees passed all I think about is my mother. Our relationship the past few months, how she hadn't hugged me when she left, how she left me, and how our last conversation had gone done. None of that mattered though, all I cared about was her being okay. My father and sister, I knew kept the severity of the situation away from me but it had found its way into my brain from the moment dad had woken me up with the news.

The thoughts of her and I being able to make up, maybe her becoming the mom I knew again. My thoughts of us being able to make up the lost time when things settled. She comes to visit, we'd get lunch together, go dress shopping for my junior prom. Suddenly though, I'm just hoping I can speak to her and tell her I'm sorry for the stupid words that were said. I couldn't even remember why we were mad at each other. Nothing could be as important as her just being alive. Our little fights didn't matter, her moving away didn't matter all I wanted was for her to hold me like she uses to and tell me that everything will be okay. That she'd be able to see me graduate, get married, and have a family. The one thing she always wanting and I felt as though I was apart of her losing it.

Luckily we had always said I love you even after a fight, but now I ask myself if she really knew.

As the distance between us and New Orleans gets smaller the feelings and thoughts get stronger.
Please let her be okay. Please let her be okay.

Dad finally gives me a bit more information. "I don't want to scare you but this could be serious." Or something along those lines, frankly it's been 3 years now and I don't remember what was said verbatim. I do remember saying that I knew though.

It was all I had been thinking about, though nothing fully prepared me.

As the outskirts of New Orleans roll by I know, we are close to the hospital. It's about three when we pull into the parking lot. The hospital is big and windows are all over. They're a little circular cement sitting area at the entrance. My sister is outside hair in a messy bun and we meet her halfway.

It was late October and there was a chill in the air. I cross my arms in front of me to warm myself, or at least that's what I tell myself before we walk into the hospital. We walk past an odd painting of what I would assume was a corgi, his fur bright red.
Why the hell is the corgi red?

We continue up to ICU the hospital warmer than outside but there's still a shiver that runs up my back. It smells of disinfectant and my shoes squeak on the tile.

We're buzzed in through the ICU door and as we get closer my arms around me get tighter.
The floor is shiny, they must have just waxed the floors.

Finally, we're at her door and walk-in. There lays the woman who was my mother.

She is in a hospital gown and there are tubes everywhere. Her skin a slight still had color but it seemed muted as if a grey filter had covered her body. I squeezed myself harder, somewhat hoping I'd wake up from the nightmare. I had hoped maybe she'd sense that I was there and wake up as nothing had happened. After seeing her I knew that wasn't going to happen.

Nurses and doctors came explaining their idea of what could have happened. She had brain function but they needed to know if it was positive or negative. I find myself in the corner looking at her, but not wanting to get close. I knew she wasn't there. Her body was there but I didn't feel her spirit, her light.

She'd walk into the room with a smile, she'd talked for hours, and she was always the one to help anyone if she could. The light she gave me was gone from her and I didn't like it. The room felt cold. The warmth she brought gone.

We stayed in a hotel close by and only were there to sleep. Otherwise, we were at the hospital waiting for the answer we already knew was coming.

After the third day, the doctors finally gave use of the results. Thought she had brain activity, it was negative. I remember my dad saying to the doctors, "We don't want any bullshit, if she came back will she be her? What will her quality of life look like."

The doctor answered truthfully, "If she were to come back she won't be the same. There is a good chance she'll have to stay on the ventilator."

That was all we needed to know. That was our answer one what to do.

My mother would haunt all three of us if we decided to keep her around for us. She was adamant about never wanting to be a vegetable.

Right then was when I knew I'd have to say goodbye to my mom. To the woman who had raised me. To the woman who had supported me in everything, I wanted to do. Dance, chorus, acting, etc. She went to every concert, every dance recital, and every stupid award ceremony for the school. I had to say goodbye to the person who was my best friend.

This was when I finally got close to her. I grabbed her hand one last time, I kissed her forehead, and I told her I loved her. All three of us said our goodbyes.

They moved us out of the room to detach all the tubes, to remove the IV, and to let us see her as close to what she used to look like before.

Her chest moved slowly, we held her hand, we held each other. Then finally her chest stopped moving.

That's when I felt my heartbreak.

My oldest sister, my dad, and me in a group hug as we all broke down. This woman had given us all her love, her advice, and showed us what it was like to be loved unconditionally.

My chest hurt and I cried until I felt that there was nothing left in me. That's when I became the girl whose mother died when she was 16. That's when I learned that the little shit doesn't matter. 

The arguments, the grudges, the hate. It doesn't matter because in the end you're left wishing it all went away. You wish you had the time to tell her about the boy who broke your heart. You wish you went dress shopping with her when you got asked to prom your sophomore year. You wish you watched a movie with her when you had to put down the family dog.

This taught me that every day is precious, so why sit around feeling sorry for myself? Why sit around worried about what others think about me? Why hold hate in my heart?

The point of me writing this isn't to get sympathy or for people to feel bad for me. The point of me writing this is to give my viewpoint on life and why little inconveniences shouldn't ruin our days. To show that we choose how to live our lives.

Me? I choose to be happy.