Mothers’ Day has been bittersweet for almost nine years now. My mom suffered a massive stroke December 18, 2005. She died one day later; six days before Christmas. I often describe events and milestones from my past as taking place “before mom” or “after mom.”
I’ll never forget where I was. Target. First thing in the morning. Pregnant and pushing a shopping cart around with a then four year old Jordyn (Jay) who was laughing and counting the days until Santa comes. It’s not unusual for pregnant mamas to suddenly need to use the ladies’ room – so I left Jay and the cart with her daddy while I raced to the loo.
While in the stall, I reached for my cell phone to see if mom had called. Sure enough I missed it. I dialed her back right there from the stall, but my sister Michele answered and said, “Tani, something’s wrong with mom. She’s talking funny. Her words are coming about backward. I think she needs to go to the hospital, which one should I take her to?” We were living in Vegas at the time, and there are more than 20 hospitals to choose from. I replied, “The closest one. Now hand the phone to her, can she talk to me?”
These were the last words my mother said to me, “anTi, ugh, ugh, darces come”. She was trying to say, “Tani, I’m scared, come”.
I replied, “Jay and I are on our way mama, I love you more than life, the ambulance is coming, I’ll see you at the hospital, I love you’.
I fumbled getting out of the stall and bolted out of the restroom in search of Jordyn and my ex. I told them something was happening with nana and we needed to go home right away. My ex said, “Home?” “Yes. I need to get my mom’s rosary. I’m not showing up at the hospital without it – hurry”.
We somehow managed to get home and make it to the hospital before the ambulance. This has always pissed me off. What the hell took them so long? My mother would visit two hospitals in as many days but I can’t bring myself to mention either one of them.
When they wheeled her in, she was sitting up, looking frustrated and frightened. My mother was the smartest woman I’ve ever met. Quick witted, extremely articulate, fierce (understatement) and she could do the Sunday crossword in about 10 minutes. She was a walking dictionary. I think my mama knew what was happening to her and it both irritated and terrified her at the same time.
I held her hand and gently placed her rosary in it. She looked down, saw it, and her eyes smiled at me. My mother held that rosary in her hand, through procedures, tests, a transport to a different neurological wing of a new hospital, and multiple gown changes by nurses. We pried it out of her beautiful hand (always perfectly manicured) after she passed.
My mother and I were extremely close. We saw each other almost daily, she even had sleepovers with me and Jay every other weekend. We talked on the phone at least 20 times a day and always said good night – every night – regardless of where either of us was in the world.
I remember coming into the house, passing by the Christmas tree all lit up with presents underneath she had already wrapped for everyone, walking up the stairs to the room she used to stay in and tucking her rosary neatly back under her pillow. That’s when I realized she was never coming back.
During my grieving, I remember dropping to my knees, grabbing my pregnant belly, and howling the most primal sounds. So loud. The pain was suffocating. How could I have this little life growing inside of me and lose the very person who gave me life at the same time?
Something felt eternally broken.
I came into the kitchen this morning to find home baked cookies, a new writing chair, an oversized print of my favorite city (NYC), and a tile with the tiny fingerprints of that same baby who was growing inside of me nine years ago. I wept right there. Quietly this time, and with a smile on my face…
What a remarkable journey it’s been. My mother’s legacy didn’t die with her that day – it’s not broken at all.
Her passion for living a happy life is indeed alive and well. Love can be found in every corner of this home. Everything is as it should be.
I get to be mom to these beautiful girls.
Happy Mothers’ Day.
More to come,
Tanya B.
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