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Posted on July 4, 2019, 12:56am
Don’t EVER say, “God needed your loved one more than you did.” That is not helpful when someone is grieving. If one more person says that to me I’m going to go off. My answer to them is he needed my mother for what, please tell me, my mother really? Am I the only one bothered by this lunacy please post your answers below?
GETTING OVER MY MOTHER’S DEATH
Since I was young I knew that my mom would have to leave me one day, and even though she had a long and good life it hurt me a lot when we just waited for her to pass away. I shared many years full of great moments with my father and brothers. However, my time with my mom was special, but there were also many things that my mother had to go through in her life.
My mother died at the age of 86, but I never imagined the idea of living without her physically, even though I had been away from her for many years. When I say apart I don’t mean that I abandoned her or that she abandoned me, but that after having lived all my childhood, adolescence, and part of my adulthood with my family, I decided to move to another city and start my independent life there, you know like the little bird that leaves the nest.
We were five siblings, and in spite of the “usual” thing that children bury their parents, for my mother, this did not happen at all. She, along with my brother, my sister and me, had to bury our older brother, my father, and then another brother. Yes, my mother suffered a lot during her life, and although she was healthy, strong, and funny woman, she had to learn to cope with the death of her husband and two of her children.
After my brothers and my father died, I felt the responsibility to go and visit her more often, because even though my other brother and sister lived near her, I felt the need to be closer to her and maybe mess up her kitchen trying to bake a cake for her.
My children always accompanied me, I have five children but we could not always go all the time. But when they had parties in town, we always got together as many as we could and made my mother really happy. There were my sons, nephews, sisters-in-law, and lifelong friends who were once classmates, neighborhood friends, and family friends. We would all play with my mother; even my children did all kinds of pranks on her, especially childish ones, that’s how she ended up covered on flour from head to toes.
They imitated her when she scolded them, hid her things, and played with her in this way, making her “angry”, but in the end, she always smiled. Little by little, my children grew up and the jokes with her did not stop, after all, it is like a family tradition. We all made jokes with the sense of humor that characterizes us. But three years ago, I received a call that made me realize that maybe those fun times with my mom would be over. My sister called to tell me that she had to go to the hospital with my mom because of a respiratory crisis she had.
At that doctor’s visit, they managed to stabilize my mother, but they also found out that she had cancer and that it was very advanced. This news completely broke me down, and I remembered what happened to one of my brothers who died from that disease. A few days later, they called me back to notify me that my mom was hospitalized at home and that she could barely get out of bed to relieve herself.
A week after that call I traveled to her house with my wife and one of my children, to support her in any way I could and to take care of her the best way I could. When I arrived, I went into the room and saw her in bed, and although I considered myself brave, I had to try very hard not to cry and go over to greet her. My son came in with me and together we talked to my mother, who recognized us and was happy to see us.
Seeing her condition, I knew there wasn’t much we could do. My son talked to her, telling her to remember the pranks we used to play on her when we were younger, but she was already having trouble listening. After the day we arrived at her house, it was only three nights before she finally took her last breath. I remember that we took turns sleeping with her and that day, when we woke up and saw that she had died, I felt deep pain, and although I usually hide my emotions, I suffered a lot when my mother left.
When I told my son the news, he hugged me very tightly and we both consoled each other. The same thing happened with my wife and the other family members who arrived to the house. Although I expected it, I had a little difficulty accepting the fact that she was no longer with us.
Over the years I understood and accepted my mother’s death, and I was grateful for what she gave me and taught me. Being in her house, the house where my brothers and I grew up, made me remember all those good times we had when we were children, teenagers, and even adults. All the mischief we used to do to my mother until she got upset and threw the first thing she had in her hand at us, and all those memories helped me to move on and continue with my life and with her love in my heart.
I also remembered my family, my children, and everything I still have to live. My mother taught me so many things that I hope I can teach my children, and although they are now adults, they also remember her as much as I do and miss her sometimes. I was 61 years old when my mother died, and maybe I could have been prepared for that moment, but the truth is that I wasn’t and I even thought that it wouldn’t affect me so much since I was away from her for many years, but it really hurt me and I still miss her a lot. However, I understood that this is life and that she is always with me and I will never forget her. She was and will remain to be the most important woman to me.
