When Isaac is five weeks old, my mother dies. She has just turned 65.
My home phone rings while I’m taking a nap with the baby. It awakens me, and I decide to let it ring. When my cell begins to ring next, I realize that it is the hospital trying my second number. The nurse tells me Mom’s oxygen levels are dropping, the end near.
I cry hard for a few minutes. I’m thinking I can’t do this alone. I need help. So I call a friend, and Karen picks us up a short time later.
When we arrive, I see my mother is gasping for breath, and I feel like the little girl I once was, in big trouble. It’s like times she wanted me to fix things that were far beyond my ability to fix. The nurse tells this is what the body does as “part of the process.” She also tells me that Mom can still hear.
I go into her room, holding Isaac. [Read More…]