Monday, January 12, 2015

11:51 AM

I never wrote about the morning that I found out my mom had passed away. It seems too personal to share, but I have been encouraged to write more about events such as these from my close friends. It was Monday, May 12th at 11:51 AM when I receive the worst news of my life.

I wasn't tired from the weekend I had just spent in Vegas for my Bachelorette party. I was emotionally exhausted because I had been experiencing high levels of anxiety and living in fear never knowing when my mom's last day would be for almost 17 months.

I was lucky enough to spend the day with my mom before she passed. It was a really quiet day and she slept a lot. She had no color to her skin and no fat on her body. She was all skeleton. She could hardly speak, but I will forever hear her whispering voice in my head. We laid in bed together and watched a Lifetime movie about a young girl whose mom had passed away. One of the few things my mom said to me that day was, "well this sucks", and we immediately changed the channel. We talked a little, but I could tell she was frustrated because she couldn't communicate the way she wanted to. So instead, we sat in silence.

When I arrived at my apartment that night, I cried. I secretly knew what was to come that week. My eyes were swollen and red the next day but I safely assumed my co-workers would think I just had a little too much fun in Vegas at my Bachelorette party. Once I was at work, I immediately started organizing my work files and computer desktop in case I had to leave a moments notice. I really can't explain it, I just had a pit in my stomach.

I was busy catching up on work and reviewing my Friday emails when Becky called me around 11:45 am (the times somewhat blurred together). I stepped into my work conference room when I heard her sniffles, she told me that my mom had 24-48 hours to live. As horrified as I was, I kept thinking about how I blessed I was to be able to spend the last few days with my mom. I walked down to Lisa's office, barely mumbled what my aunt had just told me and said I needed to leave.

When I got back to my desk to pack everything up, I received the worst phone call of my life. Becky's voiced forever engrained in my head, crying over the phone "She just passed." I remember Lisa being at my desk (not yet knowing what my Aunt just told me) on my computer looking up a taxi service that would get me to West Seattle. Again, I barely mumbled that I needed to get down to Federal Way now because my mom already passed between those few short minutes I was at her desk and by the time I made it back to mine. Then I just sunk.

The rest of the day seemed to fade away from my memory rather quickly. I know that a co-worker drove me home. I remember seeing Dustin and Michael sitting on the front door step when I arrived and Georgia, Becky and Jeff all in my mom's room.

I try not to think about that time I spent being at my mom's house, I get sick to my stomach when I do. I can never explain the feelings I felt when I saw her tiny lifeless body laying in bed and watching two strangers wheel her away in a body bag. In fact, it almost feels too personal to share. But the it's moments like these that aren't talked about. When someone dies, everything is masked by heaven, bells ringing, cherished memories and angels.

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