It was a normal Saturday, my dad, mom, sister and I all got up and got ready to go to my pee-wee basketball game. I was ten and all that mattered that day was the fact that I didn't want to wear purple jogging pants out in public. To say the least I was pretty ticked at my mom, the nerve of her. We went to the game, and all came back home and mom fixed us all lunch. B (my sister) and I went to our bedroom and began watching a movie and eating our lunch. After a few minutes we heard a bang come from the other room followed by my dad's footsteps and then his voice. He was yelling our names.
As I entered the kitchen, a nightmare that I had never dreamed was happening. My best friend, my hero, my mom was laying in the floor with my dad over her trying to get her to respond.
Some of that day I don't remember, but the worst parts I do. I remember trying to get Preacher, our guard dog, into a pen. I remember trying to figure out what was going on, and trying not to cry. I remember how it looked to see my mom being carried out on a stretcher down the stairs of my home while sitting in the back seat with my grandparents. I remember my dad holding mine and B's hands and praying for my mom.
But mostly I remember exactly what the nurse said to me and my sister "You're dad needs you...she didn't make it." I remember thinking, well I need my mom, fix this!!! I remember everyone crying around me, and me never dropping one tear. I remember thinking it was all a dream.
They said that she never knew she hit the kitchen floor, that she was already with the Lord. Her death was caused by a heart aneurysm. And all the doctors said that it was simply her time to go home. Today, I don't understand why, but one day I will.
A few days later my mom's visitation began, the line wrapped around the whole building then down the chapel. I felt like it would never end, but it just showed us how many lives she had touched over the years. The one thing I regret...never walking to the casket, and telling her goodbye. I knew that if I ever did it would all become real, and real it could never be. I remember the friends, the family I had never met, and all the hugs and I'm sorrys. The next day was the funeral - the day I still block out. I remember walking in behind her casket at a local church, because the chapel at the funeral home wouldn't begin to hold everyone. I remember holding my dad's hand the entire time, but I don't remember a single word said or a song that was sung. I remember the ride to the cemetery and sitting there thinking that it still wasn't real - that we were going to go home and she would be there, either cooking or watching Bulls basketball and drinking a diet coke. But that hope never came true.
I feel like some days I chose to block out those days and hours to protect myself, but deep down I know it was because my heart was slowly breaking, and I knew that I had to stay strong for my dad and sister. At the age of ten I said goodbye to my mom.
12 years later...there have been many birthday parties, many depressing days, many dates, and three weddings. I married J in Sept of 09, my sister was married in June of '09, and my Dad married in Nov. '10. After my dad married he moved into my step-mom's home and left my childhood home empty and for sale. To say the least this was very hard on all of us. This was the only home me and my sister knew before we were married, and this house holds all of our memories. Last weekend after 12 years we finally began to clean out all of our belongings. The hardest part was my mom's dresser. It had been partially cleaned out after her death, but the majority was left. In the second drawer there was an old oak box that I fell in love with! As a little girl I inherited a oak box from my great-great-grandmother and this box looks a lot like it. While going through the drawers and her jewelry box I slowly filled this box with many trinkets of hers that holds many memories for me and my sister. Like her key chain from her bus keys, her blue sunglasses, her whistle, some childhood books of hers, and a few other things. But at the end of the day I wish I had more, more memories, more trinkets, more pictures...more time.
I have attached pictures of my greatest property. It sits on my bookshelves and I touch it every time I walk by. I hate that I can fit what means most in a small box, but I am glad that I am able to remember her on a daily basis. I wish I could tell you everything about her, what she meant to so many people, but I know that this blog won't hold it all. Bless you if you did sit and read all this. I'll leave you with the pictures, for it is certainly time to get in bed. =]
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| My Mother's Oak Box |
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| The inside of the box that holds many treasured belongings of Mom's |
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| A childhood picture of my mom, me (left) and my sister, B (right) |
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| From the same day, this is one of my favorites. My husband gets this look a lot!! |
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