A Week After My Mother Passed

Drowning inside myself right now so I figured I'd surface sentence by sentence here in this hotel room, lying in bed with these little four-year-old sleeping toes draped across my chest. At least five days have passed in this day alone. No, with all the memories I've had, a lifetime has passed.

Being in my mother's apartment, a still life of her life. Everything just as she left it. All the items arranged in frantic attempts to survive. It was brutal to see. So real. No hiding the struggle that took place. How can you honor someone and tell the truth? It's a delicate operation. A brilliant soul tortured by a nuisance of a brain. Hiding in stubborn isolation.

Her cell phone, a call to 911 at 2:11 a.m. They told me she said she was bleeding. Then the call was lost. Her cell phone is on my account. Why didn’t I ever change her number to a Florida one? It took them till 2:27 to track my number down. At 2:27 my phone rang. I missed it. I called the number back but it only made a noise like it was a non-working number. I called my mother's number. No answer.

Why didn't I call her neighbor? I did nothing.

An hour later, a NY sheriff called me. He told me they traced the call from my mother to me but couldn't reach me. I gave him her address in Florida. 20 minutes later, I called my mother's neighbor. He apologized. Said when they got there, she was gone. "I saw her Friday," he said, in my stunned silence. "I brought her two packs of cigarettes," he said as Chris cowered on his knees and as my son asked what Dada was doing. Why didn't I call him right away? Why didn't I just visit back in November?

Conversation With My Mother:

Me: I'm so sorry Mommy. I would do anything to go back and come to you.

My mother: I am here with you now. And I will be here with you until you don't need me to be.

Me: I love you so much.

My mother: I love you so much. I'm free now. And I want you to be free too.

Me: I have always loved you no matter what. It was an honor to have you as my mommy. I am the luckiest daughter in the world.

A lump in my throat and in my heart at what I've seen today. At what I learned today. There's never ever good reason to stay in isolation, to avoid asking for help because the fear of being judged or diminished by others seems too terrible, too tedious, too embarrassing. Pain shouldn't have to be neglected or protected or self-medicated.

Even if the whole world is too busy to be bothered, there will be someone with the time to care, with real words to say, with a real way to help.

I pray to be open to notice if someone is looking for someone to care. I wish there was something more I could have done for my mother. But the truth is, I got burned out. I was too busy keeping my own pain a secret. And I have someone else to take care of now. Ten little toes.

-JLK