I can’t tell you what it felt like to watch my Mom die. I thought about writing it another way. Say goodbye. Leave us. Slip away. But none of those feel like they carry enough weight for what we witnessed.
I can’t tell you how precious this picture is to me. One of her friends posted it for us. I had never seen it. I love her dangly earrings and her grin. It’s another side of Mom I was thrilled to meet.
I can’t tell you what it felt like to have the arms of Mom’s friend and others hug us and let us be weak for just one more moment before we had to let go and be on our own.
I can’t tell you how wonderful it felt to see all the people who loved her. Friends from when she was a little girl. Friends from her marriage. Friends that started out ours, but fell in love with her too. Friends she carried through life with her.
I can’t tell you why there was laughter scattered among the sobs. Things were still funny. Mom’s sense of humor was still ours. We laughed and it felt right.
I can’t tell you why some people will come through in a big way in those times and some will disappoint you in ways you didn’t know they could.
I can’t tell you why my best friend and I left at 5:30 in the evening to make a nine hour trip home after Mom died. Maybe, if I had to guess, it was because forward movement was the only thing that made sense. I also can’t even begin to tell you how many songs we sang that night. Milli Vanilli made a come back.
I can’t tell you how bad it hurt to see my brother cry. Or my husband. Or my sweet girl.
I can’t tell you how proud I am of my brother and sisters for taking care of our mommy.
I can’t ever tell you how bad it hurts that she is gone. Sandra. My pretty Mom. She who knew me, and looked out for me, and made sure I got the curtains I would never buy for myself.
I can’t tell you what it felt like to walk away from her for the last time.
Really, I can only tell you one thing for sure.
I wouldn’t be breathing if I didn’t know that she is safe now. I can picture her. I think she is barefoot with that mischievous look in her eyes that I loved so much. I feel certain she is laughing. I know she’s not hurting. She is with Dad. She is with God. She is home. I do not wish her back.
I can tell you that.