On That Day

In the wake of this weekend's Mom's Weekend at OSU and in preparation for next Sunday (Mother's Day), I have been doing some reflecting.

The day before the bleed, Mary and Sarah, incredible family friends of ours, were in town to go wedding dress shopping with me. I was seriously considering calling in and bailing on work. Mom and I got into quite the argument about how I needed to go to work and not doing so was a poor choice. In the end, I stomped off to my car and went to work. Upon returning home, I was still a bit hostile. I mean, how dare she make me be a decent adult. Geez.

The next morning was another work day. I was in the shower when Mary knocks on the door and tells me that I need to get dressed right away because the paramedics are on the way to take my mom to the hospital. Ok then. By the time I threw on some clothes, they were loading her into the ambulance. And I just stood in the kitchen watching them drive away, a fact that haunts me everyday. What happened after that was a blur. Call Sears and tell them that I am not coming into work today. Call Nathan at work and tell him what happened. Assure Nathan that he does not have to leave work, that I'll be ok. Learn that hydrogen peroxide takes blood out of fabrics like some kind of morbid magic trick. On that day, I thought it would be ok.

Over the next few days, I watched the blog. I waited to hear that the tube change was successful. I waited to hear that everything would be ok, like I thought it would be. I wandered around campus and I unpacked my things in my new dorm room. I spent far too much money on textbooks I would hardly use. Before school started, I drove back to Eugene. On that day, I got the call. Mom would be moved to hospice care that day. She would not come home. On that day, I went numb.

I can tell you what clothing I was wearing the day that I walked into the hospice for the first time. I can tell you what very person in the room was wearing. I remember everything about those days. On the day she passed, I loaded my clean laundry into the car and stopped by the hospice on my way to Corvallis for school. Sometime that afternoon, some of us went to get food and when we got back, she was gone. When we got home, we ate some pizza. We went to sleep. I woke up sick. On that day, a part of me died too.

So many times over the past two years, mom asked me to come see her in the hospital. I didn't go. We argued about who knows what. I wasn't there when she fell and I stood in the kitchen and watched her drive away. The only thing I can hope for is that she knew that I was there at the end.

Until next time,

Karina