#MondayMemories: I Like That

Myself, Lily, Mom, and Bruce a year before she passed.

When my dad passed away at age 62, it was a quick trauma. One night, he was alive and well. By the next morning, he was dead on the bathroom floor of a heart attack.

It was a shock. The next few days, with the wake and the funeral, passed by in a blur.

And, I have to admit it, it was easier than when my mom died.

Mom took her time about it. She went into the hospital in early summer and didn't come out until late fall. And when she came out it, it was to go into a facility where she'd be made 'comfortable.'

She never got to come home.

Cancer is a horrible thing.

I remember the summer and fall of Mom's passing in 2007 with heartache...and, oddly enough, gratitude.

Gratitude because I got to say goodbye. I didn't get that chance with my dad.

My sisters and I (and a few other kind, compassionate relatives) spent a lot of time with Mom during her long goodbye. We gathered around her bedside and, I believe, made her know just how much she was loved and cared about. That there was no place we'd rather be other than this hospital room.

Funny thing was, while we were making sure she knew she was loved, she was making sure of the same thing for us.

There are many memories from that time and, although they all reek of disinfectant and sorrow, I'll always be glad I was able to be there.

But the one memory that sticks with me is one toward the end, when my my husband (then partner) came up from Miami (where we lived) to be with us all because we feared the "time" was near.

I can still see that bright, sunny hospital room. Mom was lucky enough to have it to herself. And I remember bringing Bruce in to see Mom. I'd been there with her for weeks, watching her slow, sad decline. At this point, she wasn't all too coherent.

But when I brought Bruce into the room and we neared her bed, Mom held out her hands to us. We each took one.  

And Mom said, "I like that."

She couldn't say much at that time. Painkillers and other drugs had dulled both mind and tongue, but that simple gesture of reaching out for us with her hands, holding them tight, and saying, "I like that" will always stay with me as one of my most treasured memories.

Mom, if you're listening, we 'liked that' too. And we miss you every day.

What I'm Thankful For

After having narrowly averted a heart attack last Saturday (but with a stent put in one of my arteries which was almost completely blocked), I have a lot to be thankful for this holiday.

1. My heart. It may have a stent implanted in it, a leaky valve and other assorted problems my doctors and I now have to continue to watch out for, but hey, it's still tickin' and for that, I'm very grateful.

2. Bruce. My partner in life, light of my life, my everything. Oh, it's so good to have someone by your side and taking selfless good care of you when something like this happens (and even when something like this doesn't). I love and treasure my man and don't know how I got so lucky...so I'm really thankful we found each other eight years ago.

3. Nick. My son, who has always been the "creation" I'm most proud of (although he is most certainly his own man), stood by me during this difficult time with humor, compassion, and warmth that made its way to me all the way from Montreal.

4. Susan and Melissa. My big sister and little sister, respectively. Thank you both so much for calling every day and for the concern and love you sent across the miles. You may be all that's left of my immediate family, but you're all I need.

5. Lily. Yes, she's a dog. But her joy at seeing me when I came home from the hospital was indescribable. The love in those big brown eyes is more healing balm than all those medications they sent me home from the hospital with.

6. Venus and Chandra. My good friends in Chicago, who have become real family to me and show it constantly, even though we have been apart now for four years.

7. Verniqua. My best friend in Seattle...his very presence at the hospital demonstrated so much.

8. You. I was overwhelmed by the messages, the tweets, the flowers, the cards, and all the concern so many of you showed me over these past few days. I am truly grateful that all of you are out there, whether I have met you in person or only virtually, you're kindness means more to me than I can put into words.

I wish all of you the happiest of Thanksgivings...and want to express my gratitude and love to each and every one of you, from the bottom of my damaged little heart.