"Lasts" That I Didn't Know Were Lasts.... The Last Hug.

The Last Hug From Mom.

The last time I saw Mom in person as a fully-conscious, loving, smiling, enjoying person was on Dec. 29, 2014. That afternoon, I was flying from Michigan back to New York. 

In the past, my mom hadn't always been able to make the trip to the airport to see me off. Often the flights were too early in the morning and she couldn't get up early enough. Once, when we had to leave around 7:30am for a 9:30am flight, she resolved to wake up at 4:30 in the morning to make sure that she would have enough time to get ready before we had to leave. She made that trip. 

For the December flight, I happened to be heading out in the afternoon, and Mom made that trip too.

We stopped by Gabriel's for cheesesteak hoagies on the way to the airport.  Their delicious cheesesteaks are always a welcome send off from Michigan. Mom and I ate our sandwiches in the car as we finished the drive to the airport. I had mushrooms, extra cheese and hot peppers.  Mom just got mushrooms. 

When we got to the airport, mom stayed in the front passenger seat. She opened her door, and I leaned into the car to give her a hug and a kiss. As always, we told each other we loved one another. It was a simple act that we had done many times before, but still always felt meaningful. At some point during the past few years, I had started to become concerned that something would happen to my parents on their drive home from the airport. They might get in a car accident, and when I landed in New York City I would be far away and unable to help. But the next time I spoke to them, my fears would be allayed.

My parents made it home just fine from that trip. But my mom still would never hug me again. 

Feels Like Time.

Before my mom died, I ideally would speak to my parents a couple times over the course of a week. I tried to never let it go more than a week without speaking to them, but time got away from me sometimes. When I hadn't spoken to my parents for a while, I would get a pressing feeling that I needed to talk to them soon.

I speak to my dad every day now. There are some times during the day when I want to talk to him but I don't call. The time may not be right or I may worry about properly managing my time for the day. It generally ends up being okay though, as I'll still talk to him later that day.

But lately I've been feeling like it is time to talk to Mom. It's time to give her the update on what has been going on with me, time to hear how she has been doing, time to let her know that I have been thinking about her and that I love her. 

I wonder if this pressing feeling will ever leave me. 

The dress.

"When you come in tomorrow, bring clothing. Long sleeve. Nothing low cut." The funeral director's instructions were simple, and I thought we'd have a tough decision about what my mom should wear. 

But as Annie, my dad and I went through the closets in the house, we couldn't find an outfit that would work. The beautiful dresses my mom had were sleeveless or had shear sleeves. Most of them had a neckline that was too low. There were casual tops that worked, but nothing that was befitting of Mom's final outfit.   

Looking through Mom's clothes hanging in the closet, piled on the couch and draped over chairs, was one of the hardest things during this process. These clothes were intensely personal to mom. I clearly recalled the times I would help my mom get dressed or undressed on the couch. Some of the clothes brought to mind memories of times I had spent with my mom. Above all, these were the most tangible signs of my mother's presence in the house. One of the lasting signs of her that were integral to her daily rituals.

At last we found a dress that felt right. It didn't match the criteria we'd been given, but we could add in a few other tops and it would work. Mom would look great. 

As we were narrowing down the items to pair with the dress, questions began running through my head. What was Mom thinking about when she bought this dress? Did she ever consider that this might be the outfit she would be buried in? Would she be happy with the choices we were making? More than ever, I felt like we needed Mom there to help us. I wanted to talk to her about my questions. I wanted to be sure she would be happy.

At the viewing, I spoke to a family friend about our difficult in choosing the dress. To my surprise, she described how she was with my mom when she bought the dress. It was one of the dresses Mom had purchased to wear to my wedding, but she hadn't been able to find it when she was packing for the trip.

A wave of relief rushed over me. She had wanted to wear this dress for a special occasion. A day that was certain to be one of the most important in her life. But she hadn't had the opportunity to do so. Now she would unveil it so she would look her best for our last time together.

"Lasts" That I Didn't Know Were Lasts... Coke Zero

The last Coke Zero I'd ever drink.

I grew up drinking Coca-Cola. It was my drink of choice in almost all situations. At a certain point, however, I started to become more health conscious and grew concerned about the "empty calories" and high sugar content of Coke.  I began drinking Diet Coke and Diet Pepsi. I enjoyed both of them, but neither of them was quite what I wanted. 

Then The Coca-Cola Company released Coke Zero. It was love at first sip, and it instantly became my drink of choice. I drank a lot of Coke Zero. Scary amounts.

And my mom didn't think that was a good idea. I don't remember if she ever told me that - she might have said it and I didn't think she was too serious about it. But while my wife and I were eating lunch with my dad, shortly after my mom had passed away, he told me he was going to take over for Mom in bugging me about drinking so much diet soda. I was surprised that my parents spoke about my diet pop habits, and I was sad to realize that my mom had been so concerned about me. It was too late to put her at ease, but I decided I would honor her wish.

So I finished my Diet Pepsi (restaurants so rarely have Coke Zero) for that meal, and have never drank a diet soda since that day. I don't remember when I drank my last Coke Zero. I didn't know it would be the last one I would drink at that time, just like I didn't know so many other things would be the last time I would do them with Mom. But such is life. 

I still love Coke though, and for a special treat or when I really need some comforting, I'll enjoy Coke Life.

The Worst Moment.

Per hospital policy, the deceased must be moved to the morgue within three hours of the time of death. 

A great many things happened during those three hours, and I'll likely discuss many of them in later posts. I cannot briefly describe the many different emotional states I passed through during that time and the remaining hours we spent in the hospital afterwards. But during that time there were things to be done that took me away from my own confrontation with the situation... selecting the person to perform an autopsy, beginning the process of coordinating with a funeral home, trying to help my dad deal with the situation, notifying my Uncle Karl...

It wasn't clear how long we would have to spend with my mom, and at a certain point it seemed like there may be no limit. I thought that my dad and I might never leave that room, our lives forever halted at the same time as my mom's. Our family choosing not to continue on if we could not continue on together. But at a certain point, we were notified that we would only have another 15 minutes or so before they needed to remove Mom. In my last minutes in the room, I put my forehead on Mom's forehead and gave her a kiss. I held her hand. After they had prepared her body, we were able to head down to the morgue and spend one last minute with her. As I put my head on hers for the last time, the cart she was on rolled away from me a bit. I gave her one last kiss goodbye, and that was the last time I ever saw Mom when she was Mom - my dad and I agree that Mom wasn't at the funeral.

When I was with my mom - being present with her and feeling our connection - I felt the pain distinctly. When I was handling other things, I felt disconnected from any personal harm. The switching back and forth between those situations made it seem like my experience was, in some ways, under my control. I could be severely grieving but still function when I needed to. After arranging to have my mother picked up by the funeral home, there was nothing left for us to do at the hospital. My dad, my Uncle Karl, my best friend and his mom decided we would order dinner and bring it back to our house. As we started to leave, a tremendous dread gripped me. We would go home, and my mom's stuff would be all over the house. Everything in the home would remind me of her and that she would never be there again. I quietly became more and more anxious. Then, as we began to walk towards the exit to the hospital, I had an overwhelming sense that I was leaving Mom behind. Walking out of the revolving doors would mean that it really was over, and that I was willingly agreeing to be separated from Mom. My eyes began to well up as I walked outside, and I broke down into heaving sobs. Every emotion that had built up while my grief was turned off burst forth. If only Mom could have been there to comfort me, but she wasn't coming with us.  

Miles the Therapy Dog.

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When my mom was in the ICU, Miles the therapy dog stopped by for a visit. I told his owner that my mom would love to have a visit with Miles, but that she wouldn't be able to appreciate his company at the moment. Miles's owner told me that she understood, and asked if I'd like to visit with Miles. She explained that visitors sometimes needed a visit too.

Miles was calm and peaceful. My mom would have loved to have met him. 

I sometimes wish that Miles would stop by and spend some time with me again. I really do need a visit from a therapy dog.

"Lasts" That I Didn't Know Were Lasts.... Random Gifts.

The last time I'd get a package and open it to find a random gift from Mom.

Sometimes I'd get a package in the mail even though I wasn't expecting anything. I would open it up and find that my mom had sent me a gift. Usually, she had just been thinking about me and wanted to send me something to brighten my day. 

There really is nothing better than getting a gift from someone you love when you're not expecting anything.

The last package my mom sent me was a copy of the devotional book that she had been reading (and loving) called Jesus Calling. She actually sent me two copies (because that's just the sort of thing that my mom would do sometimes). I keep one at home and one at the office.

Thanks mom, for your random deliveries of happiness in a box.