Saying Good Bye.

It was all downhill that Thursday. It was New Years and I don't remember how I spent it. I just remember that every moment counted. She started to decline rapidly and she wouldn't be awake much. That Friday, my mom's hospice nurse came and examined my mom and my mom was still slightly coherent but not much. My mom's nurse, Sarah, took my aunt and I into the hallway and she told us that she wouldn't make it through the weekend. She told me to call my sister and have her come home immediately and that my aunt needed to call my other aunt in Florida to come home if anyone wanted to say good bye. I then broke down, covered my face and cried the hardest I have ever cried. All I wanted to do was run. I wanted to run fast and never stop. I felt like I was gonna pass out. I walked over to the wall and just broke down and my aunt came over to me and gave me a huge hug and we cried together. We pulled ourselves together and I called my sister. She cried the whole way home and I have never been so happy to see her when she finally got to us. My dad was there as well. After years of hate, some of my moms last words were wanting my dad to stay with us. My aunt got in pretty quick as well. She was surrounded by her (nearly) whole family.

I learned a lot about death. How the human body declines. The fact that before you die, your limbs become restless. She would wake up out of her sleep, sit up and try to get up out of bed while we had to force her to stay in bed. She could no longer talk. Her left eye was doing weird things. She was talking to people who had been dead for years. The moment my sister got in to town, she was at my moms bed side crying with her head face down on the bed and my mom became slightly coherent. She heard Gina crying and was barely able to move any other time but found the strength to put her hand on Gina's head to ease her pain. At one point, I was holding my moms hand and asked her that if she loved me, all she had to do was squeeze my hand just a little. She squeezed. That's when I knew I'd be okay. The rest of the time, we'd all just sit in her room and wait. And tell stories. And cry. Taking shifts of who'd be with her for over nights and who'd be there first in the morning. My dad took first shift since he's an early riser and just as dedicated to her in her final months as he was to us all of our lives. Friday into Saturday, it was the middle of the night or early morning and my sister had a dream that my mom had died and she woke up and started balling her eyes out and having a panic attack. I had to ease her pain and we just woke up and went back to visit my mom. That was my moms last day. That night, we had a night with our cousins. Me and Gina and our two cousins just hung out and talked and had a good time telling stories and talking while my mom just slept. The doctors would keep checking her feet and toes. While someone is dying, your feet go first. When your feet are cold, that's the best time indicator. It works it's way up through the legs and eventually the calves are cold, and it just keeps moving up the body. The pulse is faint in the toes, that's when you know. Eventually there is no pulse. The nurses had to rub my moms throat with some absorbing medicine, that would help her basically not choke on her saliva. My mom was sleeping. You just fall into a deep sleep and stay medicated enough to where it doesn't hurt and the dying person feels no pain. That night, me and my sister stayed by her bed and talked to her and had to tell our mom that we would be okay and that she can go now. That she can go and be with everyone who would be waiting for her at the end of the tunnel. We left that night and our cousin Steve decided to stay over night with her and then my dad would be there at 5am to relieve Steve.

At 4:46 a.m. on Sunday, I got the call from Steve that she was gone. I didn't cry. I felt numb. I woke my sister up and she cried enough for the both of us. We stepped outside and it was freezing cold and there were a million inches of snow on the ground. It was the most peaceful sound I have ever heard. I heard silence. I stepped outside and the world was calm. I knew my mom was finally okay. That she was no longer suffering. We got to the nursing home and it was quiet. My dad was waiting there for us and so was Steve. You can still hear things 3 hours after you die. So we talked to her and said our final good byes. My sister had a panic attack and I had to call our social worker because I had no clue how to help Gina when I was the one who had to be strong for everyone. I didn't cry much afterwards. I was too busy being strong. I felt relieved. I was sad but I was happy. It didn't feel real.
She was gone. I didn't want to be around anyone. I didn't want to talk to anyone except my friend Katie who had been there for me since the beginning of the diagnosis. I just wanted to sleep. I didn't want to talk about my feelings. I didn't want to go out or be around anyone. And that was the end.