Saying Goodbye

It’s been over a month since my mom died.  I haven’t written a column or blogged about her death. I think part of me does not want to have to remember that it really happened and that maybe it was just a bad dream. 

The tons of sympathy cards that still hang on my door reminding me that my dear mommy is gone. I attended a funeral today of another pillar of Bowie, Mr. Paul Palumbo, whose wonderful family will continue his love for God, family, Bowie, a good work ethic, and baseball. Hopefully his legacy and good example will live on in our community.

I recently found my notes from one very special night when I was with my mom waiting for her to pass into a better place. 

I’m sitting here with my other seven living siblings in an all night vigil for my momma. I sit by the fire thinking that this is what it’s all about…family.  

We have been sitting at moms house all day taking turns holding her hand, rubbing her back, cheering her on to Daddy who has been waiting for her for ten years, mom’s thoughts of longing for her sweet daughter Nanette, who left us way to early at the age of 39, who has been gone for 20 years, and the pain stings like it was yesterday.

All differences are put aside as we cuddle, hug, rub backs, and eat comfort food and drink coffee. It’s almost one in the morning and the vigil gets giddy as stories of fun, pain, and shenanigans are shared.

More than once have we rushed to mom’s bedside to hold each other and prepare for her last breath. This truly amazing women gasps for yet another and holds on for what seems like forever as she labors with each sigh.  

Every once and awhile we will get a smile, a finger tapping or an answer to the many questions that we eight children pour out to this poor soul like a toddler looking for a cookie.  We all have hope that something we say will help her let go and fall into the hands of the God she taught us to trust. 

That night lasted for what seemed like forever as the fire kept burning and the beers and coffee kept coming.  We all laughed and sang like we didn’t have a care in the world, each of us saying a prayer in our own way for a mom who served and loved like nobody’s business.

Little did we know that after a night of watching our mommy labor with each breath, like the daily labor she toiled with being a wife and mother of nine, she would live to see another day and rest peacefully for four more days before she would finally die.

It was for about 3 weeks that my mom was surrounded by her 8 living children, 33 grandchildren, 18 great-grandchildren; her sweet brother, and numerous other friends and relatives.

Thank God for family, friends and wonderful hospice nurses who helped us keep watch.  Little by little we would tear away from her side to cook, clean, making stops by work, or find something to get our minds off watching our super hero melt before us. I would drive back and forth from Bowie to PA see the kids, kiss my hubby and thank my “Mother in Love” for helping with my brood. Then my wonderful hubby would kick me out the door telling me it was my mother’s side I needed to be by.

Being the baby of the family I pretty much just sat there staring at my siblings cleaning mom, caring for her, rubbing her, giving her medicines, and cooking everything in sight.  When no one was looking I would hop into mom’s hospital bed and take my turn whispering in her ear about how I knew I was her favorite, well at least till the next sibling or grandchild would come to say the same. 

On Valentine’s night we were coming and going and trying to keep busy. The flowers were piling up in front of momma as her sons and grandsons were bringing their favorite gal some love. That night Joan was in charge of giving the meds and Betsy and I went to sleep in mommy’s bed. Tommy and his wife were asleep in the other room, and my baby Kolbe was in the small room in a pack in play.

Betsy and I feared that we wouldn’t be there when she took her final breath. We felt it was important especially since she and I were next to our dear sister as she took her last breath 20 years ago when cancer took her from us and her five wonderful children. It also seemed like just yesterday that she and I were in a hospital bed with our daddy singing and praying for him to go and meet his maker. We considered it a privilege that we got to be with him when he died.

So when we both said goodnight we tried to ignore the fact that mom’s feet were extremely cold and that we both had to leave for a bit in the morning to tend to work and family.

I didn’t think much of it when I heard my baby cry at 2:10 a.m. At first I thought I would just let him fall back to sleep, then I reconsidered that he had had a confusing couple of weeks with me coming and going and now sleeping in a strange bed in a strange place. So I pulled myself up and went to get him.

I brought him into mom’s sunroom where the hospital bed and all sorts of decorations and love had surrounded her. I checked on her and she was breathing slowly.

Joan who was sleeping in the room, jumped up like a solider asleep on watch and asked, “Is everything ok? What time is it? I have my alarm on to give mom her meds at 2:30 a.m.”

I reassured her that all was fine, and I was just checking in on momma. So I lay down with the now sleeping baby on my shoulder next to mom on a couch. As I just started to doze off I heard my phone that was packed by the front door with all my stuff for my early 6 a.m. departure, make a loud sound, notifying me of a text message.

My first thought was who in the world would be texting me at 2:15 a.m.? I laid and tried to ignore the thoughts of getting up and waking the baby, but then remembered that it would be beeping soon to tell me of the message again.

So I got up and got my phone, when I walked back into the room I noticed an eerie silence and went straight to mom. She had stopped breathing. I called to Joan who jumped up and confirmed that yes she had finally said goodbye and we got Betsy and Tommy right away.  

We were so sad but relieved that our sweet moms didn’t have to labor any more. She had won the great fight. Well done thy good and faithful servant, now go and meet your Lord.