I’m feeling sad because my mom passed away two days ago. I went up to Oregon to be with her before she died. I was hesitant at first because I’m immune compromised because of my double-lung transplant, and it felt risky to spend time in an assisted living facility. But I figured if I double masked it and social distanced I’d be okay.
My mom was healthy a week ago. But she’s feisty and tried walking without her walker and she fell and badly injured herself. After that she refused to eat or drink anything and she began dying.
My partner and I drove up to be with her. My sister and my mom’s brother were also there. We sat by her bedside. Most of the time her eyes were closed. She was on a lot of morphine to alleviate the pain. We held her hands and stroked her hair. I sang her songs from the musicals Hair and Fiddler on the Roof. She used to play those albums and sing out loud when we were growing up.
Hospice told us to let her know it was okay for her to go. We told her in our own ways. Eventually she stopped breathing. I was sad she was gone, at the same time I felt a tremendous relief because she had been in so much pain and she passed in peace.
I feel the grief. It’s like a weight. It feels natural, like a cloud.
My mom was a pure artist. In the photo, you can see some of her art on the wall. We grew up with her creations on the walls of our house. It made me feel good about my own ability to create. I’m back home and typing in my office, and my art is all around me on my walls. My mom said she liked seeing her art because they were her friends. I feel the same.