Dear Mom,
Last year, at this time, I was sitting with you in the ICU. We all were.
Hanna, Cousin Angela, Dianna, baby Noah, Heather, Steve, Crystal, a friend she had brought that you knew but I can't remember her name, Dad, Britt and me... We filled your room with stories of when you were young; stories filled with laughter and love and hope and youthfulness... Stories of you.
Then everyone left and it was just us four again. Us four, and the beeping of the machines that kept you breathing. The machines that kept you with us.
We had been at your side for almost 30 hours, reluctant to leave you because, as the doctors said, you could go at any minute. We didn't want to miss your farewell. Magda, your night nurse, came in and turned off your machine, allowing you to leave us peacefully. I'll never forget the moment the room filled with silence. Then you took a breath. Your own breath. Even as you were leaving, you were stubborn. We stayed by your side. We refused to leave. We touched your hands and stroked your face. We played you your favourite songs and didn't care if the nurses were sick of the music.We said we loved you over and over again because once is never enough. We knew you could hear us and that is all that mattered. You could hear us telling you we loved you and that it was okay for you to go.
At around 6am, the room turned arctic cold. Angela had stated that when it was almost time, the only person who would come to get you was your best friend... Grampa. The main who loved you more than his own life would come and get you and as dawn approached on the morning of October 17th, we believed he was there. The room froze, we had goosebumps all over our arms and we were sure that he was coming to take you with him. The emotion in the room rose, and an hour later at 7:22am, you left us.
People say all the time that the hurt fades with time. "You never forget," people tell me," but the hurt fades." I say that that statement is complete bullshit. For the last year, nothing has been the same. It has not stopped hurting, not for one bit and I know I shouldn't feel angry but I do. I would do anything to have you come back and be with us again. I would do anything to have you waiting for me to come home with your big, goofy grin; to laugh at the stupidest jokes even if you didn't get them. To be able to say that you were proud of me for standing up and doing what I need to do for the family even if it crushes me day in and day out....
"I miss you," is not a strong enough statement....
