The day a part of me died

The crisp blue lake glistening in the sunlight. People were out at the dog park walking dogs, the city was full of happiness. I stared out the enormous windows of Northwestern Memorial Hospital secretly hating the people below. They were all going about their lives, enjoying the beautiful day as my mom lay suffering and dying. They all smiled as I felt my heart being torn apart by arch nemesis, cancer. I could never understand why my mother feared her disease so, until I saw her during her final days. It wasn't until I had to hear her shout in pain for me to help her, until I watched her cry in pain and embarrassment, until I had to watch her unable to speak anymore. I had wished and hoped I could hear her yell my name again in pain. Was that selfish? According to one of my old co-workers I was being selfish wanting to keep her alive in pain, but why would I want to willingly let her die?

So I stared out the window, hating. Wishing somehow this was just one of my elaborate nightmares again. Trying to convince myself that this wasn't the end of the road for mom. That I was in some sick twisted Silent Hill game and I was going to get out of the town. I had to continue to hold back the tears around my mother and needed to get out of that room for a minute. I couldn't bare watching my mom suffering anymore, she had already suffered five years. Being out of the room wasn't much better. I felt guilty leaving her, but I just could not take it anymore. I hadn't slept much that entire half of the year. I worked 2 jobs (one of which was physical labor overnight) and was a full time master student. I was attempting to write and be productive while attempting to convince myself my mom's brain cancer was just a little set back. When she cried about being ugly having a port in her head and being bald again I told her she was beautiful. She knew she wasn't to others though, when you love someone they could never be ugly to you. My friends were a little put back when they saw my mom after her brain surgery and it was then I realized I was living a life that most people can't fathom. 

So the guilt continued as I stared out the window, crying, shivering, wishing I was less helpless. Wishing my entire life wasn't full of such helplessness. Maybe I wasn't the strong optimist I built myself up to be. Maybe just maybe I was convincing myself of something to keep me from turning insane over the years. As I entered again to see my mom lying there I felt pain trickling through me. This was reality I couldn't run and pretend anymore. I couldn't give myself hope, because there was no hope left. The pain did not just revolve around my own pain, but I also felt tremendous pain for my dad who would now have to be a widow. The most pain I felt was for my brother. I promised my mom before she died by her bedside that I would care for him. That I would look after him and call him like my mom died, but how could I live up to her? How could I ever give him the love of his mother? I couldn't. I was leaving for Nebraska. I always claimed to be selfless and in the biggest time of distress for my family I was being selfish and leaving. I made my mom cry in fear of me leaving and her losing her "best nurse". The guilt and pain was eating away at my insides. 

Those people down there, out those windows. I wondered if they knew the pain I knew. I wondered if they even knew what was important in life. So many people care so much about themselves. Was I one of those people? Would I ever recover from this? During the final prayer the Rabbi gave my mother took her final breath. She squeezed my brothers hand and looked at him one last time as I held her other hand. My mom said goodbye to us, but she didn't know how to. She asked people before she died how to say goodbye, not how will it feel to die. My mom was the most incredible woman I had ever met. She made everyone laugh and happy all the time. We were her life and she never wanted us to leave when most parent's can't wait to get the kids out of the house. 

On her last breath I fell. I was not able to hold my own body up anymore I just collapsed on her and held her. Her body grew cold and I didn't ever want to let go. The Rabbi went to get someone, but I didn't want him to get anyone. I just wanted to hold her. I just wanted to tell her I loved her as many times as I could. I did not want to accept she was gone. When we had to actually leave the hospital I almost didn't want to. She was still here we had to take her home. Her friends from the hospital came in and said they were sorry and how much of an impact she had on them. The doorman cried for my mother, a woman he had gotten to know over the past five years. So many people had loved her. As we walked downstairs and got outside we felt what a beautiful day it was. Chicago had been gloomy and horrid the past few days. We had gotten outside after being trapped in a hospital for 3 days on a cancer ward full of dying, suffering people. We had not bathed or eaten, but when we got outside we took in the fresh air. It was beautiful on the day my mom died and I like to think that was because g-d was happy to have her come to him. We felt as though we were in some sick dream walking to the car. My body felt lifeless as I trudged down the block to the parking garage. I don't even remember getting home or what we did that day. 

Her wake, funeral, the rest was all a giant blur. The psychologist told us that in order to know she was dead in our minds we had to see the burial. We had to understand that she was dead, and that we would be delusional and have trouble remembering. Delusional? Confused? I thought I heard my moms voice when she died. I waited for her to call me. I listened to voicemails to pretend that she was still here. I was delusional, but could you play me? I remember being asked when I'd go back to work, when I wanted to go out for a drink, when I was going to finish my thesis. All things that did not seem important to me anymore. All things I wanted to to get away from. I chose to go to Nebraska and my friend there gave me the best time I could have had after my mom's death. It helped me forget for a second the pain. The torture I had just witnessed, and even though I was able to be there with my mom I'm not sure it was healthy for me to see so much suffering. My mom had seen the same suffering, but in her 40's. She had us, a husband, stability, a life. I was 22, had no children to keep me occupied, no husband let alone boyfriend, and no stability.  

How could I get married without having my mom by my side? I asked my sister to help me plan my wedding someday, because my mom wouldn't be there. She agreed and hugged me. I remembered how my mom had asked her friends if she should buy me something for my baby shower someday, because she wouldn't be there. We all told her not to talk like that, and with my sisters baby shower I felt pain. I was so happy for my sister and seeing all the people there. I even got to play an important role of taking notes on who got her what, but I couldn't help but wish that my mom could be at my shower someday. Who would be the happiest person to see my baby now? No one, my mom would have been the greatest grandmother in the entire world. I am expected to move on with my life, but all those pivotal times in a girls life where mom is meant to play a major role she won't be there. I will be alone. 

Alone. Always alone. Now more alone then ever without her. Without her constant reminders on how beautiful I am. Without her telling me what an incredible writer/actress I was. I have lost motivation to write blogs recently, and write for myself. My expression is shown through writing. It is how I cope with all of life's situations and make sense of my overactive brain activity. It was my pleasure in life, and when my mom died I realized no one would read my blogs. No one would talk about specific sections that they enjoyed. Why write? Why express myself when no one wanted to hear my expression? Why attempt to make sense of the bad, when I learned that often you can't make sense of it? There is no hope in some situations, no matter what you do. Death is inevitable we can all be certain that we will experience it someday, but why me why now? I had already had a difficult life, losing our house we grew up in, having to work so much, struggling to write about the very disease which was now killing my mother. How was I going to live a full life and be happy now?

Mom, I can't write anymore about my feelings or myself I want to write to you again. My heart is broken, and people will never understand my pain. Losing you was the hardest thing in my life, and I know you don't think that I would miss you but I do. Everyday I miss you in some way. Some days are better than others, but there are times I just wish I could call you so you could make me smile again. When I have stress there isn't anyone there to help me like you did. No one cares as much as you did period. You taught me how to be selfless. You didn't have to suffer and fight like you did, but I know you did it so spare us this pain for a few years if you could. How did you do it mom? How were you so strong? I could never be as strong as you and you said you weren't sure what was worse, having to be the living who lives without the dead, or having to be dead. Mom, living is worse. We have to live everyday without your constant support and comfort. We have to accept we will never hug you again or kiss you. We have to re-live this pain every year on april 4th knowing that was the day you left us. Mom I love you I just want to break down in your arms right now, but I have to break down alone. I have to write this blog hoping that maybe you are reading it somewhere. That my writing has more purpose than just me venting to myself about you. I love you mom, and I miss you everyday. Rest in peace :(