Last Time

It was on December 10, 2010.
It was a Friday. 
Late afternoon.
It was the last time that I ever talked to her.
She had called me on her cell phone to tell me that she was
on her way home from the hospital..... again. 
That they had stabilized her. 
Given her some more blood. 
(She had leukemia.)

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm on my way home
from the hospital."
"Alright."
"I love you", she said. 
"I love you too, Mom". 
"You promise me that you'll never forget how much I love you?", she asked.
I chuckle, "I promise. You know I won't forget."
"I'll let you go; I'm on my cell phone.", she said.
"Alright, Mom. I love you."
"I love you too, Sweetheart".  
"Bye."
"Good-bye, Honey."
And, she was gone.

It's December 11, 2010.
My family and I went out shopping for Christmas presents. 
I even went into a store to buy something for her.
A mug, with encouraging words on it. 
A devotional, to help her on her journey to recovery.

We knew we wanted to get back home before late because 
a winter storm was due to blow in early evening. 
We got home. And, that's when I heard the phone message.
She was back in the hospital. And, she wasn't doing well. 

The phone rang, "You need to get up here". 
We threw some clothes in a bag as quickly as we could.
And jumped back on the road.
He drove like crazy the whole way there. 
A winter storm right behind us.
But, what we didn't know, was that she had passed away 
after we'd only been on the road for ten minutes.
We still had seven hours to go.

The whole way, I kept praying that she would hold on til I got there.
The whole way I kept asking God to wait.
The whole way, I just prayed and prayed.

It's December 12, 2010
Seven hours later,  we ask what room she is in, and we're 
told to go on another floor. That they'll tell us when we get up there.
He already knew. 
It's 3:30 in the morning.
Up an elevator, around a corner.
I race down the hall. 
I'm scanning the patients as I look for a nurse.
I find the nurse.
Then, she told me. 
"She died". 
Just like that. 
I felt like I had been shot. 
I begin to collapse to the floor, but he catches me.
He holds me up. 
I still can't stand.
He asks me, "Do you want to sit down?"
I nod, "Yes".
And, I just slide, my back against a wall, down to the floor. 

I just sit there, sobbing. 
In shock. 
How could this be?
How could she be gone? 
I was supposed to be there by her side.
But I couldn't make it. 

They lead me to a room. 
A woman comes in to comfort me.
I don't know her. She is staff. 
Then, the widower comes in with his family. 
We're all crying. 
She's gone. 
I still just sit there, in stunned silence.
Still I asked, "How can she be gone?" 
She was there my entire life. 
I ask a nurse, "What happened?!" 
He calmly explained to me that the team did the
best that they could. 
If they did their "best", wouldn't she still be alive?
But, I know that isn't true. 
They did do their best. 
But, they are not God. 

I just sit there for a long while. 
Silent. 
Finally, they tell me that we need to go.
I don't want to. 
I want to stay.
Stay where she breathed her last breath.
But, I can't. 
I have to go.

So, I walk out of the hospital.
It's still night. 
It's still black outside. 
The dark sky seems to match my grief.

A few days later, I begin my search for an outfit for the funeral.
All the damn Christmas lights. 
Why were they so bright? 
They just seemed to mock my pain. 
The Christmas music. 
Singing so joyously over the store speakers.
It made me cringe. 
It was too happy in the store.
I wanted to yell, "Why are all of you so damn happy?!"
"There is nothing to be happy about!" 
But, I didn't. 
I just turned off my hearing aids to block out the sound. 


I get through the funeral.
I get through Christmas.
But, I'm numb through it all.
Then, on January 1st, I return home for the first time
since that night we left to drive to the hospital. 
For the first time it all sinks in. 
She is gone. 
She is gone. 
She is gone. 

And then, it all begins. 
My life.
My life without her.
Putting the pieces back together.
Only, they can't be put back how they were.
They have to be rearranged. 
And so, for two years, I let God build and rebuild my heart.
Piece by piece.
Day by day.
He puts it back together.
But, it isn't as it once was. 
There is a hole where she used to be. 
But, the hole is there to remind me of her.
All that she meant to me. And, all that she still means to me.
I'll never stop loving her.
And, as I promised her, I'll never forget how much she loved me.