Thursday, September 16, 2010

Walking Through the Pain

I painted her nails, I was supposed to the night before she died but I wasn't feeling well and told her I would do it tomorrow. Tomorrow never came for her, but it did for the rest of us.

So two days after she died I packed fingernail polish remover, cotton balls, and the bright green nail polish that I have on my toes right now. I called one of my best friends and my aunt to go with me.
I walked in the funeral home and saw her beautiful green casket at the end of a long isle.

I can do this, I can do this I tell myself, as I feel my breath being taken from me. Pull yourself together, you told her you would paint her nails green and it's the last thing you can do for her.

I took a deep breath and took that long walk, friend by my side, supplies in hand. I touched her, she was cold. I kissed her head and told her I loved her, then I began to paint her nails.

I had thought I might pass out, but instead the three of us break out into laughter. I'm thinking the funeral home director may just through us out or call the local mental hospital and order straight jackets.

There was no other way I see now. We had to laugh to get through it, we needed to laugh. There would be plenty of time for tears later.

I painted her nails, my friend tried to fix the little mistakes I made while I worked on her makeup. Aqua eyeshadow to match her dress, light pink lipstick, and it took us a while to even out the foundation the funeral home had put on her.

We finished and then while taking the long walk back toward the door I broke down. I doubled over and felt the kind of heart wrenching pain that I haven't felt in quite a while.
I felt as if someone had kicked me in the stomach but I thanked God for the strength He gave me to get through what I had to do.

I keep saying I don't know how to live without my mother, and I don't. I never have, so why would I know?

But I have to learn a new way to live and it just may be one of the hardest things I have done in a long long time.
I have to hold my son while he cries himself to sleep because he misses his Nana. I have to watch my three yr old draw notes for Nana and inform me that she will leave them on the table for when Nana gets back from the funeral home.

The tears come and my heart feels as if it's breaking into but this is my life and I have to learn how to live it without her, for my kids, for my husband and all those who depend on me.

It won't be an easy journey, it won't be a pretty one. I'm pretty angry at God but as my pastor told me today, HE can take it. I haven't yet expressed to God just how angry I am. I am scared of opening that dam. But it has to be done and I will do it when I'm ready.

I have to walk through the pain, there is no way around it, but there's hope in knowing I won't be walking alone.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

We Lost Her Two Weeks Ago

I do think someone may have hacked into my blog, I had no idea because I have not been checking it. Hopefully it's been fixed.

If you haven't read my blog, all you have to do is read the first paragraph of the last post to know what I mean. Never say it can't get any worse, never, and never tell God how much you think you can handle because He will show you just how strong He is.

My husband and I celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary this past Aug 30th. Gifts and cards were bought, even plans of getting away for a day. Things seemed to be looking up, hubby hasn't got a job yet but we are getting by. My mom had been going to physical therapy for the first time in a year. She seemed to have a new lease on life, determined she would walk again. Roo is doing great with guitar lessons and great in school, Rissa's growing like a weed and so is her free spirit.

Then out of no where, my world stopped on Aug. 30. We all go up late. I was thinking about what we would do on our Anniversary. I remember getting up and sitting on the couch in the living room and hearing my aunt saying "Nana (my mom) it's time to take your medicine & start your day."I didn't hear mom say anything, which wasn't unusual because it took her a while to wake up. Jose then comes in the living room and kneels down, I'm thinking it's an anniversary thing but then I look up to see my aunt standing in the door way. She has her fist in her mouth as if stifling a scream & she's crying. I knew it, I knew it right down to my bones but I refused to believe it.

She hadn't been sick, she had been transferring herself from bed to wheelchair, we no longer had to use the lift. She was riding the exercise bike at therapy, there was no way! I ran into the family room where she and my aunt sleep and they told me she was gone. I yelled as loud as I could "Call the ambulance." They said, she's already gone. My brain could not comprehend this, I yelled again call the 911 now! My husband did.

All I could think was I was tired last night and I did not tell her good night and I loved her like I usually did.
The ambulance came, then the police, then the coroner. The Coroner said she had been gone about 7 hrs and it was about 10:00 am. He said she had a heart attack, which now I'm wishing I had asked for an autopsy. Finally when the coroner came they let me go to her until the funeral home came, my husband asked them to give me time with her and they did 45 min. I lay beside her, talked to her, and cried.

I have to be honest, the first week was a whirlwind. I felt very little. The hardest day of my life was the day after when I had to make all the decisions. I have never missed my sister more.
But after that day, I was numb even able to do her nails and makeup. Don't get me wrong I cried but it was mostly for my kids. My son is having a very hard time and they had grandparents day this past Friday. When he found out about mom he locked himself in his room for an hour sobbing and he is only 6.

Yesterday and today have been the first days that is has really sunk in that she is gone. She is the last of my immediate family that I grew up with. She is the last one who can say "oh Roo gets that from his mom, she used to do that when she was little" or "Kee used to throw that same fit that Rissa does when she was that age."

Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful for my family. I just thought I would have my mom a little bit longer. I find myself getting angry with God and I don't want to but I am. I know many of my friends who have both parents, all siblings, aunts, uncles, even grandparents. And I just don't understand. My children will not have grandparents on my side and they are only 3 & 6.

I am broken once again and it seems just as I get my footing back under me it is yanked out.
I know grief, been through it more times than I care to count. I know the stages, I know the deep aching pain it brings and I'm fighting against it right now. I don't want to feel those things.

But this is my outlet, things I can't tell my family, my friends. It's so much easier to type it out her. So I will come her often. Doesn't matter how many people read or if the grammar is correct, I'm getting it out and not holding it all inside. And that I know is ONE of the most important steps in handling grief.