Have you ever watched someone you love go through so much pain for so long?
My mother was a sweet, social woman. And even though I wasn't there for part of her life, it still cuts me deep to hear stories about her past. Her life was as unlucky as the coyote trying to catch the roadrunner
Her first husband, and the father of my two older half brothers, was a very cruel man. If you can even call him a man. He would get drunk a lot and BEAT my mother and his sons. He left bruises that everyone saw. They begged her to leave him, and after a while, she did. But he left them with nothing! Stole all their money. He was truly evil, I can't even imagine how scary that must have been.
My mother made it through though. She's like a diamond: strong and beautiful.
She soon met my father and shortly after they were married, I was born. Three years later my baby brother was born. My mom had went through two miscarriages before him so he was her miracle baby.
Life was peachy for a while at least.
When I was in 3rd grade, I was told that my mother had luekemia. If you don't know what that is, it's a type of cancer. Cancer for people is like deer season for deer. I had to grow up fast because of it.
I watched her sometimes when she went to chemo therapy. I watched her as her hair started to fall out. And I watched her one night shave the rest of her long, brown hair off.
She grew very pale and very thin as time went on, but she told us she would win this war just for us. And she never quit!
I guess all that hope she had paid off because she beat cancer to a pulp. Or so we thought.
A year or so later, the cancer came back to finish what it started. Her hair hadn't even fully grown back! She continued her therapy and was put on a list for a very long time for a bone marrow transplant for her luekemia.
The day of her surgery something had gone terribly wrong. The doctors had acccidentally burnt my mother's lungs during the operation. She became very weak and very sick in such a short amount of time. She ended up in a coma for months. The doctors said we could talk to her and she would be able to hear, but could not respond. I was never very good at expressing my feelings so I just watched.
I watched my little brother talk about his day at school and I knew he didn't really understand the whole situation. I watched my father grab her limp hand and tell her how much he missed her and just how well he was doing with the children. And I watched my grandma tell her stories from when she was a little girl.
She made it out of her coma sometime later and was sent off like a package to a rehabilitation center a couple of hours away from our home.
We went and visited her often and even played BINGO with her and the other residents there. My mother had to learn how to walk and do other things on her own again. She hadn't fully recovered, when they sent her home.
I loved having her home, but we had to take care of her a lot. She also had to have a breathing machine because of her lungs.
One day, she had to be taken to the hospital once again. She ended up going back to rehab, but at a closer location. They too sent her home way too early, just because our insurance wouldn't pay them anymore.
Her breathing machine had been broke and we couldn't afford a new one so she was on oxygen tanks. Each night someone would stay up to watch her and make sure the tanks had oxygen.
One night it was my older brother's turn to watch her. He had just gotten off work and I had just got done taking care of any necessities that she needed.
I remember that night well. I was so tired from a long day that I went and fell asleep on the couch instead of in my bed so I did not have to take care of any more errands for my mom.
How selfish can you get? My own mother and I didn't want to take care of her because I was tired!
I woke up later to my father coming down the hall.
I watched him as he stubbed his toe and cursed at the pain. I watched him look up and see me awake and walk towards me. And I watched his face as he told me my mother was dead.
I don't know exactly what he said, I don't even remember seeing him leave me. I got up to head to my backyard to climb "My Tree". My Tree was where I went to wish upon stars, to pray, and to hope. I never climbed that tree again after that night.
It was surprisingly nice for September 20th. Just two days after my mother's birthday.
I watched the stars blurr as tears heated my eyes. I watched as the blurry siren lights pulled up in front of my house. And I watched for what seemed like hours, while tears streaked my cheeks.
Finally, I dried my face and headed inside. I guess you could say I have really bad luck because when I got inside, I watched them
I watched them as they carried my dead mother, in a black bag, on a stretcher, down the stairs, and out to the ambulance.
At the funeral, they played all these sad songs, just trying to make you cry. I didn't cry though. People came up to me and told me it was alright to cry, but I refused. I didn't cry until I looked over at my dad.
Have you ever watched the strongest person you know become so weak?
I watched my father cry over the death of the girl of his dreams, the one he loved dearest. My walls crumbled to the ground and my eyes rained with tears.
I pulled myself together as we started to walk up towards the casket to say our final goodbyes. I looked at the person in the casket, who was my mom, but it didn't seem like her. She was so pale and lifeless. She looked like a life sized doll with the make-up, jewelry, and fancy clothes she was wearing.
Afterwards, people kept coming up to me and saying "Sorry for your loss". And people would keep sayin this phrase to me for the rest of my life. I never knew how much I hated that word "sorry" until that day. Yet, I say it way too often.
Everyone was crying that day, especially my older brother. He blames himself for her death because he had fallen asleep and let her tank run dry. But I don't blame him. Hopefully she died peacefully in her sleep.
She is finally free from all the pain.
