My mother died 4 years ago.
Thus began the hardest point in my life.
I learned about death when I was very young. I learned about death from her one day outside in the garden. Mom told me she wouldn’t be here forever. Well it warped my small mind and I’ve never been the same. See mom was the type of person that didn’t want to bullshit anyone. She certainly wasn’t one to take bullshit either. Very outspoken and fun!
Because of the way I’m wired, I have obsessed on death since that young age. Now at 43, I continue this “fun” activity. 😵💫
Now she can’t take the blame, I would have found out eventually. It’s probably best that I heard it from her.
I tell you this because mom and I were best friends. We stuck up for each other through hard times. When I was down she picked me up and vice versa.
Fast forward to 2018, my mother was dying of heart failure. Her doctor gave up and said there’s nothing we could do. My sister made me promise not to interfere, and to let her be taken into Hospice. She said mom wanted it this way…
Well, I was too upset to be thinking clearly. I kept my mouth shut and basically shut down inside.
It wasn’t until months after mom’s death that I realized that she had probably not tried to live longer because my voice was silent. See, mom was just like me and needed someone to FIGHT FOR HER!
We’re a strange breed that needs others to show interest in our existence (validated I guess) in order to have any fight of our own.
I needed to fight for her right to live. To tell her that she needed another opinion. To help her find ANY way to try and push forward.
She was 64.
