|My mom as a little girl|
However, the Saturday before Thanksgiving, I called my dad, and he said we needed to get to Long Beach as soon as possible. Mom was dying. Stunned, I asked what had changed. His simple reply, "She did. She told me she wants to go."
Abraham immediately began looking for plane tickets. However, we were not able to leave as anticipated. I also needed medical attention for a small emergency operation. The doctor said I needed to rest for three days after the procedure.
During the time we stayed in Huejotzingo for my recooperation, my dad moved Mom home for hospice care. At first, Dad said he thought Mom would live another 2 weeks, but the first hospice nurse to arrive at their house told them she would live only about 4 days.
My siblings arrived in Long Beach. Even my brother's soon-to-be-fiancée flew to visit for two days. My mom had met her via skype, but this was the first time they met in person. Although Mom was basically in coma, she did respond to some things, and smiled or opened her eyes briefly a few times.
We were able to talk to her through skype, and once or twice she opened her eyes, and even smiled at the enthusiastic chatter of our kids. On the 22nd, we talked to her in the evening. Later that night, my dad called to say Mom had gone Home.
We joined the family in Long Beach on Thanksgiving Day, and we stayed for the next 7 weeks. We returned home to Huejotzingo on Jan. 13 and took up the regular routine of Bible studies, kids´ club, teaching at PCS and sometimes at Dios es Amor (Sunday school and drawing class), and the day-to-day business of living and raising two energetic kids.
All the while, I feel the constant reminder that Mom isn´t here any more. It isn´t that my particular grieving has, at this point, meant tears. Rather, I am reminded by all kinds of little things. When I paint or draw or teach drawing, I think of Mom and how we attended art classes together and how she loved to paint. We would discuss painting and I would tell her about teaching art at PCS when we talked on Skype almost every Tuesday.
She and I also took Spanish classes together when I first began learning Spanish. She started out knowing more than me, but we took the same classes together for several semesters.
I think of her when I´m with my kids and I wonder what she advice she would have given me about raising them had she lived longer. She enjoyed the pictures of them on facebook, and her comments are still there. It feels surreal that her comments outlast her.
So I took a long time to write a blog post again because, how to summarize my mom´s life? What to say to the internet world? Not to acknowledge my mom´s death felt wrong, but to write about it rather personal, since anyone can read a blog post.