|The center scan shows one layer depicting the size of the bleed. It was huge.|
So now she's gone. My sister Anna flew out immediately and has been here through most of it. We've been leaning on each other. Neither of us really expected it to be as hard as it is. But as a friend told me recently; "Losing her means you will never have a chance to have that warm mother/daughter connection you crave." It is an insightful thing to say. She is right.
All these past twenty days, I've taken photos for the project 365 thing I'm doing here. And it was so jarring how the twenty days concluded with such stark and stirring photos. So I'm going to share them all here today. Along with a note I wrote my mother this morning after I found out she had passed away.
|125/365 - Alex is Skyping with his aunties|
|127/365 - my first new dress in a long time|
|128/365 - the Coos Bay Manour B&B - Topsails & Tea 2015|
|129/365 - Wisteria|
|130/365 - My favourite picture of all so far.|
|132/365 - someone stole mom's toe socks|
|134/365 - Nootka roses blooming|
|135/365 Hat shapes|
|136/365 Bath time|
|138/365 - Monday Morning.|
|139/365 - Tuesday - My child clutches my sister's and husband's hand|
|140/365 - Wednesday - Anna tends to mom|
Things were prickly between us. No doubt. But your leaving us brings back the good things. I guess that’s the positive aspect of death; you remember all the wonderful memories you have with that person; and the negative that you dwell on while people are living seem to fade into the background.
I think about the day that the Vice Principal of Brussels American School bruised my arm, and how infuriated you were, and how you stamped into the school and ripped that woman a new asshole. I am thinking about the glorious moments when you stood beside me when I needed you to, and how you were always there for me, even when we were locking horns; even if the intent was not always selfless.
Mom. You were my mom. That never changes; and you are gone. And with you are the vain hopes of you ever becoming the mom I needed you to be. Gone is the chance to understand that demon inside you that made you sometimes resent us. Gone are the moments of laughter and gone are the moments of conflict.
I hope, in whatever way it is, that you finally find peace with yourself, and with that demon that tormented you for your entire life. I hope that you know that in spite it all, that I… we all love you and that all is forgiven. We let you leave us with open hearts. Be at peace and know that you were loved and you were not alone in death. We were there. All of us in one way or another. And most importantly, Alex was there with his ‘joyful noises’ as you called them, filling the hollow and sterile room of the hospital with his laughter and his beauty. I know you loved him above all else. He was there with you too.
Mom. I love you. Even though sometimes I despised you. I think there was a fine line between the two, and that the resentment was fueled by how much I wanted to love you. I will miss you. I’ll miss those moments where your face glowed with laughter, and you were the glimpses of the mom we all hoped you could be.
Be at peace.