My mom was perfectly healthy….so I thought. She was due to come see me on her yearly autumn visit and I was looking forward to it. She had had trouble with her knees for years and had both of them replaced and I was hoping she would be better able to do things with me.
She called so apologetic that she didn’t feel like coming to visit. She had been coughing for so long and the doctor was treating her for bronchitis….again. She said she felt too sick to come. I was terribly disappointed but I understood.
Mom ended up going to the hospital. I was concerned. Then my brother called me and told me that mom was diagnosed with lung cancer. I was shocked! She HAD been coughing a lot for YEARS. She had been treated for various respiratory viruses and infections, reflux and more. She had never smoked a day in her life. Cancer!
I went to Ohio asap. So much happened but I won’t write that here. Twenty-seven days later, mom was gone. It happened so fast. It was hard to comprehend. My support, my anchor, my link to my past…she was gone. My head was still spinning as we buried her, went through everything in the house, made it through the holidays somehow, put our childhood home up for sale and then returned to Virginia. I am still digesting it all.
As the days and years go by since she left this earth, there are things I wish I had talked to her about…thinks I wish I could ask her. I thought I had all the time in the world. I was wrong.
Things I would ask mom:
1. You told me there was a side to dad that I didn’t know. Can you explain?
2. You used to put bread in the crockpot and it was so good at dinner. How did you do it? Oh, and could you give me your dressing recipe?
3. When I finally confessed, two years later, about getting trouble in school, how did you and
dad react? Did you laugh?
4. How did you handle it when dad died and you started living alone?
5. What would were your hopes and dreams and did you live any of them out?
6. Were you afraid to die?
I wish I still had her in my life. She missed Kristin marrying Tim and she will miss knowing my grandchildren. But I would do with one more conversation. Miss you mom.