Happy Birthday, Mom.

Today would have been my Mom's 51st birthday. Its almost as if there is a hush around me. Things are quite and peaceful right now.

Sometimes I still think its just a dream. She's/they're still alive and I will be able to call her up and go to Denny's. (One of her favorite places to go). I remember in the hopsital the day before she passed away ....I remember looking at her thinking, " This is the best she's looked in years! " She was for once relaxed. I mean, all due to the stroke ....but still.

I remember before she went in for that last surgery I was coming back from Minneapolis. I stopped in Madison to see her and she wanted me to bring Culvers. She was SO happy to see me and I was SO annoyed being there. I was short, rude, and didn't stay very long. I feel so guilty. I couldn't even spend that last night there with her talking about how afraid she was of the surgery....because I had something better to do???????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!! I needed to be there for my Mom when she was scared. I needed her there because I was scared!

The next day was her surgery. The doctors came up and said that the surgery went well. We were all relieved. He said that she would be up in her room in 10 minutes and we can go visit her then. That 10 minutes turned into 20....which turned into an hour. Something was wrong. We all knew it. We sat there, though, waiting for someone to tell us something.

The doctor came in and asked to speak with my grandparents. This wasn't going to be good. There was a stroke.

The next time I saw her, her head was wrapped up and she had a tube (that is supposed to be running clear fluids out of her head) but it was blood. She layed there motionless. She had a couple good days here and there, but never did return her speech.

The decision to cut life support was the worst. It was in the Will that they set up...and she even told the doctors this before her surgery. So we obeyed her wants.

We one on one said our goodbyes. I remember holding her hand, telling her I love her and feeling her squeeze my hand when I would say it. I knew she was still in there ...but she would never be able to walk, talk, or even possibly open her eyes again. I guess that's what the hardest part was. Knowing she could hear me and not do anything but squeeze my hand!!! I told her to squeeze my hand according to what I was saying, " Squeeze my hand if you...." or " don't squeeze my hand if..." I asked her if she understood what was going on. She squeezed my hand as to say "yes, I understand". I asked her if she wanted to be with Dad.....she squeezed.




I guess I just miss them terribly. I would say 90% of the time I don't believe its true. None of it. I believe that one day I will be able to drive up the hill in Durand, turn onto our street and pull up next to the house. I believe that I will be able to walk up the vertical driveway, open our front door and have my parents drinking coffee in their chairs, just happy to have me home.