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I used to always find it strange when someone’s loved one passed away on a TV show, documentary or movie, and the surviving person wouldn’t shed a tear after being informed of the passing. I now wholeheartedly understand that nobody processes things the same way. Nobody grieves the same way. I understand, because it happened to me.
“At this point we’ve been working on her for 40 minutes.And no response from her heart...”
I couldn’t believe it. I screamed out “mami!” And at the same time that I felt all of those emotions hit me and make me call out to her, they left. They left, and I was left feeling emotionless. Confused. In disbelief. To my left sitting next to me was my sister in law, and next to her was my oldest brother, who had just collapsed to the ground when we were told.
The Chaplain was staring at me with concern on his face, but I was just frozen. During this time I was feeling cold and hot sensations in my body. “Do you understand what he’s saying?” He’d ask me while looking at the doctor. Of course I knew. I worked in another Hospital’s Emergency department a few years ago. I learned that an MI was short for "Myocardial infarction (MI) or acute myocardial infarction (AMI), commonly known as a heart attack, occurs when blood flow stops to a part of the heart causing damage to the heart muscle.” - credit to wikipedia. I knew exactly what it meant. And that’s why I couldn’t even question the reality of all of this. Because I knew it wasn’t a joke. Because I knew all that they did to try and bring her back. Because I’ve been witness to this many times before. I see the faces and the urgency and the team work that goes into these Codes... I looked him in the eyes and said “Yes, I understand. I think, I think that I might be in shock.”
So, I did what I knew that I had to do in order to snap out of that “shock.” I joined my brothers and my sister in law and went to see our mother. She was covered from shoulders to toes. I immediately thought to touch her body, her skin, to feel its warmth for the very last time. I don’t know where that quick thinking came from. But, I am thankful that my brain cooked that up and that my body listened and made moves. Her shoulders, her collarbone areas were still warm. The last time that I’d even find comfort from my mother’s warmth. That made a difference for me. I can’t explain it. And I don’t need to. I walked to her bedside and I held her hand and I took pictures of it. I wanted to capture proof that our hands were identical, so that when I tell Adrian, he can see it for himself. I am glad that I went to see her. To see her there before her service. I don't know that I would've been able to snap out of the shock, and probably wouldn't believe it. There were many times that I'd be in her kitchen thinking about everything, and that little bit of denial creeped out, and I immediately take myself to that Hospital room. Standing next to her lifeless body. Holding her hand, and stroking her hair.
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This is all that I can bring myself to share right now. This is the most that I will probably directly say when it comes to the actual day of her passing away. I honestly don't have any plans to plan out how this blog will work, what I wont do, or what I will share. It'll have to happen naturally. I don't know if anyone reads this anyway, and don't really care. I wont even go out of my way to "promote" this space. Whatever happens with it, it will be because it was meant to be. Fuck, this might even change. What will never change is how much I miss her. Every single second of every day, I miss her.
Be blessed.
