That first night, we all came to see you. All the grand kids had the chance to give you a hug and talk and laugh with you.Who would have ever thought it would be the last time that they would see you or hear your voice.
The next night there was Aunt Peggy, the Burtons, Dad, Gio and I. You had worsened during the day, and we were concerned about you, but didn't believe it was anything serious and that couldn't be "fixed". I will never forget a few hours later when the doctor told me that you would never go home. I remember asking him to not say anything to dad. I wanted him to go home and get a good nights rest and we would talk about "things" in the morning. The dialysis wasn't doing much to help you, and as dad was leaving for the night I told the doctor you had a DNR and a living will. With that they stopped poking and prodding and decided to let you rest.
Then next 3-4 hrs I remember oh to well. The images are stamped in my mind, never to be erased. I held your hand, I wiped your brow, I caressed your arm. I helped the nurses change your wraps and sheets. We would have to poke your fingers to check your insulin...and because of the blood thinners, well...they wouldn't stop leaking after the pokes.
I remember thinking over and over, "I can't do this..."I'm not strong enough". The nurses kept encouraging me on. Telling me that you needed me there with you to comfort you. I remember calling Giovanni and telling him to come, that I couldn't do this alone. I needed him there to comfort me. I was afraid.
I don't think I realized how quickly things were progressing until the nurse took me into the hallway and asked how far away dad lived...and then told me I needed to go get him. That you wouldn't make it through the nigh, and it was coming fast. My world started to crumble. Giovanni said he would go and get dad, and that I could stay with you, but again, I was afraid.
As I drove through town to get dad the tears began to stream down my cheeks. I was going to loose my mother, and my father his wife of almost 56 yrs. How do you tell your dad that his lifelong companion isn't going to make it. I knocked on his door and rang the bell, but he didn't answer, so I used my key and let myself in the house. I tried to wake him gently, but it was obvious he couldn't understand why I was there. I finally said "Dad. mom is going to make it. You have to get up and get dressed now. We have to go, there isn't much time". Hearing the crack in his voice as he said, no...that he wasn't ready and couldn't let her go...it broke my heart. On the way back to the hospital we both just starred out the car window. I think I drove without realizing I was driving. Dad ran into the hospital as I parked my car.
When I got up to moms room dad was on one side holding her hand, and Gio on the other sided. My father was caressing her and telling her he loved her. I told dad to bless her and release her. Her breathing was heavy and there wasn't much time. He let her go. He breathing became soft and shallow and then she was gone.
The next few days are a bluer. And for the next year my life went from Friday to Friday. One week passed, then one month. Anniversary's, holidays, birthdays, etc. As time has gone by the pain has lightened some. However, there is not a day that goes by that I don't think of my mother. I miss her laughter, her smile, her advice, her jokes, her cooking. She was the glue that held our family together. Life goes on though. Choices are made, holiday's come and go, and with time the family seems to slowly drift apart.
I tried in my own way to hold it together, to take my moms place (sort of, because there is only one Martha)...but I couldn't do it. I'm not her. And there was to much pain and sorrow. To many memories, too much hurt, not enough forgiveness.
But there are also the blessings too. For several months before mom's passing I had the opportunity to watch my father care for her. And I had the opportunity and privilege to help with that. Those last months are something that I will never forget. I saw my father love my mother. The service that he rendered to her has helped me through the years since her passing to know with assurity how much dad loved her. I have thought of those months many times. And I am thankful
I miss you mom, and I will love you forever and always. You were the best mother I could have ever had. And you were a dear friend. I can't wait to see you again. Until then, I know that you are with me and watching over me.
Martha Elson Clifton
Dec 27, 1929 - Aug 27, 2004
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