Yes, it has been months since I have written on my blog. Yes, I know I am a terrible Blogger. I used to be better, but these days I just have to wait until the inspiration to write hits me. Sorry for the delay, folks, but thanks for hanging in there with me (that is, if you are still here at all).
The WORST DAY OF MY LIFE occurred on February 1, 2017. It started off like most days. I sent my two oldest children off to school and my youngest and I headed to the podiatrist to have my foot wound declared healed. I was excited because my husband and I were going on a 7-day cruise to the Caribbean in 11 days. My parents were going to take care of our kids while we were on vacation. It would be the first time I had ever been away from my children for an extended period of time.
I was sitting there with my 5-year old, Jordan, talking about dinosaurs and other things that little boys are interested in at that age when I got the call from my father that would change the rest of my life.
My father found my mother, lying in the floor next to her bed. He called 911. She wasn't breathing. As I was talking to him on the phone, the paramedics came in and started to work on her. I told the receptionist at my doctor's office that I had a family emergency and I had to leave. As my son and I headed for the elevator, he asked me why we had to leave. I told him Grandma was sick and he needed to pray for her to get well. As I neared the exit of the hospital, I realized that I was already at the hospital they would most likely bring my Mother to. As I neared the exit doors, I called my father to ask what hospital they were taking my mother to. He simply responded, "She's gone."
That was it. That began the worst day, the worst week, the worst month, the worst year (and counting) of my life.
I fell to the floor crying out, "No! No! No! No!" My poor little boy was stunned and confused. There were several ladies of the hospital staff that came to our aid. They sat Jordan down on a bench and just started making conversation with him to keep him distracted. I think they thought at first that I had fallen and needed assistance. They quickly realized that it was emotional distress that had me lying on the floor. They called the hospital Chaplain to come to my aid. I asked for them to have the valet bring my car to the front (No, it isn't a posh hospital. They are adding on to the hospital and it is obstructing some of the parking, so they had a valet service to park cars during construction.). They said I was too emotional and it wouldn't be safe to drive at the time.
I called my husband at work and told him to come and get us. I sat in the Chaplain's office while my precious son played with the Hospital's therapy dog. I waited for my husband to arrive. I was numb. Everything seemed surreal.
My husband arrived and he drove my son home. I was able to drive my car home. Many of my family members had arrived at my house and were outside or in the garage with my Father. They were waiting on the coroner.
I knew I had to see her to make her death real. I went into the house and stood outside her bedroom door trying to build up the courage to open it. It took a couple of minutes. I opened the door and there was my Mother, on the floor next to her bed. She was laying on her side in her nightgown. She still had EKG leads on her from the paramedics. I couldn't see her face because of the way she was positioned, but that was probably for the best. I don't think I could have withstood seeing her lifeless face. Instead, I looked at her feet. I knew my Mother's feet so well. She always walked around the house without shoes. That was all I needed to see. I went outside, sat on the concrete driveway, and cried.
