It wasn't all bad, and I feel I need to point that out. There were times when life seemed good and happy, and things did go our way at times. I loved them both very much through it all, and I know they loved me too. We didn't have a lot of money or fancy possessions, and we never had fancy homes, and never a car, but we always seemed to have enough. We managed to get by and never went hungry, and although there were lean times, and we ate a lot of beans, it wasn't all bad.
I can remember times spent with Mom that were very special. She used to keep life insurance policies on us kids, and every once in a while she would cash in on them and we would go shopping. Downtown Denver in those days was a whole lot different than it is now and for us, it meant a bus ride, maybe transferring to another before we got there. But her and I could spend a whole day down there just looking at all the sights and watching all the people. I remember walking with my hand in hers and how good and safe I felt at times like that. She took care of me and always loved me. I remember as a very small child we were downtown, had been there all day long, and we were both very tired. We were at the bus stop waiting for our bus and it was bone-chilling cold. It was dark and it was snowing and there was old snow on the ground, piled up here and there, it was miserable. She realized how cold I was and so she opened up her coat and wrapped me inside with her. I had a little hole to look out of but it was like being in my own little cozy nest. Those are the times that I treasure in my memories and sometimes they are what I think kept me from being more damaged mentally than I was.Mom passed on a few years ago, and then my brother followed her about 6 months later. He died so young, but he was in a nursing home by then with horrible health.
When Mom died, I was living a long way from her. I got a call from the people at the Assisted :Living place where she was living at the time. They told me that Mom was in the hospital and that she had fallen and broken her hip. I called her right away and told her I was on my way and at that time she was able to talk to me, but I had a terrible time understanding what she was saying. In my mind, I now believe she had a stroke that took a toll on her. I believe that is why she fell, but the official report only said that she fell. Anyway, it took me almost 3 days to drive there, I'm not much for flying. All the time during that drive she was on my mind and I had so many things I wanted to say to her. I wanted to let her know that I had a lot of good memories with her, that all the awful things we went through, I didn't blame her for anymore. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was for the way I acted towards her at times. And I honestly thought that she had only broken her hip and that I would stay with her until she could mend and recover. I wanted to tell her all of this. When I finally got to the hospital, she was in a sort of coma, she couldn't talk to me. I think I knew inside that this might be it. At one point I felt sure she knew I was there though, I held her hand and talked to her and I felt her fingers move, I think she knew. And she lifted her head like she was looking up above her and a smile grew on her face. She was seeing something that I couldn't, but I knew whatever it was was beautiful, I could tell by her smile. Then she relaxed back into herself and slept. Finally, I went across the street to a room the hospital provided for family and I went to bed, thinking a few hours and I would be able to see and talk to Mom. But the phone rang after only about an hour, it was the nurse that was there and she told me that Mom had passed. I was so angry, I asked why she didn't call me sooner! I told them where I was and to call me if there was any change at all. I was only minutes away. Why did they wait? And she said, it just happened so fast and without warning.
And then I got angry at Mom, why the hell did she leave without me being there? How could she do that to me? The anger just filled me up, I felt like once again she DID it to me. It wasn't a good feeling, and anger is not my usual way of dealing with things, but the rage came out and there it was. By the time I got over there it was about gone, I realized that the nurse did the best she knew how, no point being angry at her. And I also realized at that moment that Mom didn't want me to see her last breath. She waited for me though, she waited for me to get there before she went. That was some comfort for me although not nearly enough. There never is enough at times like those.
They were awesome at the hospital though, they took complete care of everything including calling the mortuary. Mom did leave a do not resuscitate paper with them, and she had taken care of what would happen to her after her death. I know she did that for me too, to make it easier. She had donated her body to a teaching hospital so there wasn't even a funeral to attend to. While waiting for the mortician to get there a lady came to sit with me, it was her job to take care of the bereaved I guess. She asked me if I wanted to sit in the room with Mom, and after I had seen her laying there dead, I knew she wasn't in the body, so I couldn't go back in there. I didn't want to see her dead anymore. I wanted to remember her as she was the night before, looking up and smiling. She was most likely seeing her own mother there waiting to greet her. I like to think that is what happened.
There was nothing to do now but wait for the process to be over. When Greg got there, the mortician, he completely took over. He gave me her hearing aids, that is all she had with her, and he asked if he could have her glasses to donate. I told him yes, of course. He explained to me where they were taking her and that after they were done with her body, they would send me her ashes. He was awesome to me, and I can never Thank him enough for being so wonderful at such a difficult time. I didn't know at the time how long it would be before I could get her remains. It was almost 3 years. And that is a whole other story. At that point there was nothing else for me to do for her. I left her there in their care and went to the place where she lived to give them the news and to take care of her stuff. And when I got there they already knew and some of the girls were even crying. I knew in her last years she was loved and cared for and that helped a lot. After packing up what I could take with me and giving away the rest I had to do one last thing. Tell my brother. He was in a nursing home about 50 miles from there and I had to drive there with tears blinding me, knowing what I had to face and somehow get through all of that too. I've never felt so alone in my life. I had no one there to lean on, and really no one that could understand. It was probably the hardest day of my life. But face it I did. I got to the nursing home, and they pointed out his room. I walked in and saw him sitting on his bed and when he looked up he was just so happy to see me and so surprised. He asked me if I had been to see Mom yet and how was she doing? He knew about the fall but wasn't expecting what happened anymore than I was. When I told him he fell apart and we just held each other sobbing together, nothing else we could do. I stayed there in his town at a motel for a few days, and then told him I had to get home. It was so tough driving away from there, I had a feeling that it was the last time I would see him for a long time. And after that we talked on the phone at times and kept up with each other the best we could. He always asked me if I would come back to see him. I told him I would try.
But I didn't get the chance. About six months after Mom passed I got a phone call telling me he had passed in his sleep.
It is very hard to write this down, the feelings are rushing over me now as I type. So much sorrow, so much pain, it's still almost unreal to me. I thought when Mom passed I would find some relief from all the guilt, and when he passed I felt the same thing there, maybe now I could find relief. But all I felt was anger and pain. I was so hurt, I felt like even in death, they were hurting me. I was angry that they were together yet again, and leaving me out. They both went off and left me without a thought is how it felt at the time. Always, always Mom favored him, gave him all the attention, loved him in some special way that I didn't have. Anger, resentment, hurt, the feelings rushed into my head and stayed for a long time. And there they were again, loving each other so much that they even died close together. I wasn't even close to being done grieving over Mom, I didn't even have her remains yet to bury, and then he left too! It was so unfair, they left me again. Once again and even more permanent this time I was on my own. I didn't feel relief, I felt anger and hurt. My whole family was gone now, I had no one and no way to find the healing I needed so badly. Mom left without letting me tell her what I needed to tell her. And he left with her, they were together and I was alone. I still really don't understand it, I can deal with it better now and I know that they didn't mean to hurt me, I am not angry anymore. And I still talk to them, I feel them with me nearly everyday and I know they loved me, both of them did. They didn't desert me, it was only their time and they needed to be together in the next life, and one day I know I will join them. And I know that when I next see them, they will be healthy, in mind and spirit, they will be healthy and living and learning and being happy and healthy. I can look at it now and remember there were good times, there are good memories and it wasn't a total waste. And I know that all the pain we suffered together and apart made me a stronger person.
I can own that anger and not regret it, it got me through an impossible time in my life. It got me back home on that long road trip, and it gave me the strength I needed at that time to survive it all. And it was long from being over for me. About a month after my brother passed I went to the post office and picked up his ashes. They were in a cardboard box, inside the ashes were wrapped in a plastic baggy and tied with a bread tie. I got to deal with that one alone too. I brought him home and put him on a shelf and decided to wait to deal with it until Moms remains arrived too. That shelf became a shrine to them, pictures and little keepsakes, you name it, they were there. I saw it everyday for almost 3 years, his cardboard box, and trinkets. Never being able to really heal or finish the grieving process. And finally after all that time Mom showed up the same way, in a box, a little bit fancier but not much. Picked up at the post office, alone again to deal with it. And still a long way to being healed from it all, it was as bad as the day she died, the pain, the hurt...but Thank God, no more anger. And I put her on that shelf too, not sure what to do with it them. It was there another six months or so while I decided what to do. Finally I decided I wanted them to be close to me and I went and bought two trees and put them underneath them. I put them in the ground in full view of my kitchen window. I see them there everyday, and I talk to them when I water or when I just sit out there and it is okay now. In our own way we are together again and it is good.
And I am beginning to find the peace I have looked for all of my life. I am healing. This many years of hurt, anger, confusion, the whole gamut, it's beginning to make sense to me. It has brought me to where I am now, it has made me who I am and for the first time in my life, I like me. I am worthwhile, and I deserve to let myself feel happiness and I have learned just recently how to stand up for myself. I know that I will always have me. And I have promised myself that no matter what, I will never allow anyone to ever beat me down so far that I lose who I am again. I am strong, I am good and I will enjoy every year the Good Lord gives me to be on this earth, and when it is time for me to cross over, I will be ready and fearless. I can always find joy, and mostly I know that I deserve to be happy. The guilt I have carried every single day of my life is being left behind and I am glad to finally let go of it. A friend of mine once said to me, "I am not my own fault!" And that rings true for me to this day. I am not my own fault, at least not the beginning of my life. Now I can take over and gladly take responsibility for what I can become. I can do that for the good and the bad, and it gives me my own power to be who I am. I will never give that away again. Much love to all and especially the ones that made it this far through my ramblings! Thanks for listening.
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