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Comment by BLUEBELL on August 27, 2017 at 11:42am

Mom I love you and miss you every day. I know you are alright where you are, but I am not. I am trying to pick up the pieces of my broken heart and get through my day. You taught me to do my best and never give up no matter how hard it gets. I am doing my best and I hope that it is good enough. Sometimes every day,I just feel like I am treading water, desperately trying to keep my head above so I can breath. 

Comment by Brett Bowman on August 27, 2017 at 11:28am

Theresa, maybe we can say that it's goodbye for now. The separation between now and then is what is so hard. We can really torture ourselves. When I am at my lowest, that is when I really stress over, "Can mom see me? Does she still love me? Does she know how much I miss her. Are we still connected in some way?" We can drive ourselves crazy because these are questions that we cannot find an answer for. Everyone has an opinion or a belief, but until we go beyond through that door, we just can't know.

I was reading Proverbs today. This hit me. "Do not rely on your own understanding." Those are wise words. We cannot grasp what goes on behind the scenes. Our moms could be witting next to us right now, comforting us. They could be in heaven adoring God, and have left their past lives behind. I'm sure that they remember us but they are in  the presence of God. That is a wonderful place to be.

I love the picture of your mom. I almost feel like I know her. I wish that I had known her. If I could talk to her right now I would say, "Do you have any idea how much Theresa loves you?" That would be a rhetorical question. She knows.

Don't hold back the tears. Those tears are just another way of telling your mom how much you love her. The anxiousness I could do without, but the tears help me release... love. It may be sadness but it is grounded in love.

Comment by Theresa on August 27, 2017 at 9:38am

Brett. It is not goodbye it's "I will see you later"
It's funny you say that about her looking at you because when I finally got into the room where they had my mom and they were doing chest compressions her eyes were looking right at me even though her heart had already stopped I cannot forget that. As strange as this sounds I feel like my mom knew I was on my way and she saw me come in the room I'm trying not to cry today I'm trying to hold it together. I say how could that be if my mother's heart stopped how could her eyes be looking at me I don't understand. It wasn't until after they all walked away that I sat down and told her I loved her I gave her her rosary beads I tried to say a prayer but my mind was frozen.

Comment by Brett Bowman on August 27, 2017 at 9:14am

I have two sets of memories to miss. I sure miss having dinner with her on Sundays. I miss seeing her car in the driveway. I miss listening talk to my aunts on the telephone. Mom would always talk on speaker phone. Listening to them just gave me the feeling of family. I miss seeing her interact with her little dogs. She would baby talk them and their little tails would just wag. The dogs had it made. They would hang out with mom for a while and then they would come hang out with me.

I miss talking to her about my childhood memories and experiences. I miss my childhood period. That was a time when I was so secure and thought that life would go on like that forever.

I have a second set of memories that I probably should not miss as much as I do. I miss taking care of her in those final days. Mom didn't have much of an appetite then. She often had Thrush. She would ask me to make her orange jello and put Mandarin oranges in it. I love the way she would smile at me when I handed it to her. I miss our whole nighttime ritual. I would put on her Bi-Pap mask. I would kiss her goodnight and tell her that I love her. She would always say through that mask, "I love you. Thanks for taking care of me." The dogs would be standing under me and mom would say, "Goodnight little doggies. You be good girls."

I would wait for a while to know that she was comfortably asleep. I would reassure myself, "Mom is dying, but it's not going to be tonight."

I miss waking up in the morning and taking that mask off of her. I miss the way she would smile at am and say good morning. I miss giving her breakfast. This was a time when mom actually needed me as much as I needed her. I wanted to be the best caretaker I could possibly be, and my mom would brag on me to her friends.

More than anything I just miss the look that she would give me. She had a way of looking at me in the end that just beamed with love. It was sort of like, "You came through for me. Thank you." I would give her the same look because there wasn't a day that mom did not come through for me.

I knew that mom and I had a short time left. I would cling to those moments like they were all that mattered. They were all that mattered.

When I woke up Christmas morning and mom was gone, I could feel an absence in that house that was overpowering. I looked around and I knew that it could never be the same. Not even close.

The final moments of her life I just held her hand and told her how much that I loved her. She just looked at me with a look that said goodbye. It was a very sad look. She knew that she could not take care of me anymore either.

I said a prayer out loud that God would take my sweet mama into heaven. As she faded she let go of my hand. She never stopped looking at me though. She died with her eyes open, looking at me.

We said goodbye but you can't really say goodbye to someone that you love so much.

I also know that my mama will be waiting for me. We will never have to say goodbye again. 

Comment by BLUEBELL on August 27, 2017 at 8:49am

I am having the usual morning anxiety. I really hate it. What I need to remember is that it usually gets better as the morning goes on.

Comment by Theresa on August 27, 2017 at 6:07am

I miss everything but especially her smiling face, her compassion for everyone, her cooking, she cooked every Sunday for us, I miss going to the stores with her shopping, I could always count on her for her honest opinion, and most of all I miss hearing her voice every night on the phone saying "I love you sweetheart"......and today is Sunday really hard day for me because like clockwork we went there cut the grass, and washed the car, and ate together...I love you mom with my heart and soul and I know you will be waiting there for me.

Comment by BLUEBELL on August 27, 2017 at 12:31am

I miss how we would watch the news together every evening, and how she said good night to me every night. I miss how she trusted me with her healthcare as she got older. I miss how hard she tried to do the best she could with everything she did. I miss her intelligence. I miss her strength and desire to carry on with her life despite its hardships. I miss her acceptance of me even if I goofed up. I miss my Duracell Bunny, which is what I secretly called her.

Bluebell

Comment by Brett Bowman on August 26, 2017 at 10:06pm

It would be nice if grief was like the flu. You could estimate a recovery time. 

It seems like it's the little things that I miss the most. I miss watching TV with my mom. I miss telling her about little things that happened during my day. I miss the way she would say goodnight to our little dogs. I just miss her presence. Sometimes when you love someone so much, and they love you just as much, words don't even have to be spoken. You just know. And that is enough.

Comment by BLUEBELL on August 26, 2017 at 4:33pm

I am glad you liked it Theresa. I hope it works out the way I want it to. But if for some reason it paralyzes me with grief, I will put it away until I am ready.

Bluebell 

Comment by Theresa on August 26, 2017 at 4:17pm

So nice Bluebell...

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