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Apr. 4th, 2010 12:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
autumnluv143 My mom died yesterday. I know that it's normal to feel numb and any weird range of emotions. I'm sad, guilty, mad, screaming for the unfairness and relieved. That last one took me a few minutes to be able to get out. Everyone came over last night even before she was taken away by the coroner. I wanted them all the just leave and give me time to grieve on my own. Their discussions about what to do with her body and whether or not to donate it to science were steadily pissing me off.
I am the one that found her. I went into her room to let her know that I was leaving in a few minutes to go to the store and pick up the stuff for the Easter cookout we had planned. She was slumped over in the bathtub, basically folded in half. The water was gone, but she still had soap studs on her. I screamed for her and when I realized her back wasn't moving with breath, I screamed for my dad to come and help me get her up to see if she was breathing. When he lifted her, her lips were blue, face was white and upon further investigation, so were her hands and feet. I'm not sure if she just fell asleep, was choked off from air from the position she fell asleep in, choked on the food we found in her mouth, stood up to get out of the tub and fell and hit her head, or if it may have been an accidental overdose. They are going to do an autopsy Monday or Tuesday and I'm assuming we'll find out then. Whatever the case, I'll never get over the idea that she had been like that for over an hour (since the last time I'd seen her) and I didn't go in to check on her once. The feelings of guilt will subside. I know they will. But I will never, as long as I live, get over the images that keep flashing up of her face when my dad lifted her up.
I complained about her a lot. I fought with her even more than that. She knew I loved her, but there were times she was convinced that I just didn't like her. And I'm sure there were times when I didn't. But I've always loved her. I always will. When I fought with her, it was because I desperately wanted her to be able to be herself again. I had a hard time accepting that my mothers long-term suffering and pain and illnesses were dominating personality and life. I miss her already. The little things, like saying "she did" instead of "she does" are what are getting to me the most right now. For now, I just needed to get those images out of my system so that I can try to cope with the rest of today. They'll still be there, but hopefully that will help me put them in the back of everything else.
I am the one that found her. I went into her room to let her know that I was leaving in a few minutes to go to the store and pick up the stuff for the Easter cookout we had planned. She was slumped over in the bathtub, basically folded in half. The water was gone, but she still had soap studs on her. I screamed for her and when I realized her back wasn't moving with breath, I screamed for my dad to come and help me get her up to see if she was breathing. When he lifted her, her lips were blue, face was white and upon further investigation, so were her hands and feet. I'm not sure if she just fell asleep, was choked off from air from the position she fell asleep in, choked on the food we found in her mouth, stood up to get out of the tub and fell and hit her head, or if it may have been an accidental overdose. They are going to do an autopsy Monday or Tuesday and I'm assuming we'll find out then. Whatever the case, I'll never get over the idea that she had been like that for over an hour (since the last time I'd seen her) and I didn't go in to check on her once. The feelings of guilt will subside. I know they will. But I will never, as long as I live, get over the images that keep flashing up of her face when my dad lifted her up.
I complained about her a lot. I fought with her even more than that. She knew I loved her, but there were times she was convinced that I just didn't like her. And I'm sure there were times when I didn't. But I've always loved her. I always will. When I fought with her, it was because I desperately wanted her to be able to be herself again. I had a hard time accepting that my mothers long-term suffering and pain and illnesses were dominating personality and life. I miss her already. The little things, like saying "she did" instead of "she does" are what are getting to me the most right now. For now, I just needed to get those images out of my system so that I can try to cope with the rest of today. They'll still be there, but hopefully that will help me put them in the back of everything else.
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Date: 2010-04-04 06:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-05 02:52 am (UTC)