“Please help!! It’s after me, it’s after me!”
I cried and banged the door as loud as possible
hoping someone would let me out of this pitch dark room.
I couldn’t see anything but...
I could hear the voices and they were coming after me.
“Pllleeaasseee help!”
I woke up suddenly completely disoriented.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re about to land
so please take your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”
Oh right, I’m in a plane.
I’m on the way home.
It was just a nightmare.
I sighed with relief and realized that I was just soaking with sweat and tears
so I tried my best to wipe off what I could.
Just a nightmare.
It must be because I’ve been so stressed and exhausted
from this event I’m coming back from
and that took a whole year to plan.
That's gotta be it.
While I was waiting for my luggage, my phone rang.
Who could it be now?
Oh, it’s Lizzie.
“Hey sis, I just landed,
I’m so...
what?
Oh…
Ok.
Ok yeah,
Yeah, Ok, Ok.
Yeah, keep me posted.”
Everything around me went quiet.
She just told me that my mom has been hospitalized for her alcoholism.
I didn’t really know how to feel, to be honest.
I haven’t thought about her in a really long time…
I guess being so busy with work
helped me to forget the horror that she put me through
and the fact that we haven’t spoken to each other in 7 years.
When I was sitting in the cab on the way home,
I started to think about how it all happened.
My mom and I had been estranged for 7 years due to her alcoholism and mental illness.
People often judged me
for removing her from my life,
but I had to do what was right for me.
She was quite abusive to me even as an adult.
One day, in a shouting match on the phone,
I couldn’t take it anymore
and gave her an ultimatum
to either go to AA AND see a therapist
or I wouldn’t speak to her again until things changed.
She just kept shouting at me
so I told her if she didn’t stop I would hang up.
And I did.
We didn’t speak for 7 years
but my sister stayed in contact with her
and would let me know she is
and that she was still abusive and that nothing had changed.
I got out of the taxi and when I got home and unpacked,
all the memories of my childhood just kept pouring in.
I still struggle to this day trying to get over the anxiety
and all the other assortment of issues that came from my childhood.
But
everything just got all mixed up with the thought of her being in the hospital.
I realized there wasn’t much I could do about her situation right now anyway
so I tried to spend the next few days not thinking about it too much.
But then my sister called me again and said,
“Hey umm...
So I just spoke to the doctor…
Look,
he says she’s dying...
She wants to see you.”
Tears started to well up in my eyes.
It’s hard to explain the feeling of when
you think there is a possibility that your parent is dying
versus when you actually hear the words.
When you just think it,
there’s still a part of you that denies it
- I guess it protects you from the pain.
But when you hear the actual words…
And then mixed with the memories of everything I've been through...
There are no words...
I was terrified.
I hadn't seen my mother in 7 years
and though I was grown up,
I was so very much afraid of her.
First, I stood in the hospital elevator and had a full blown panic attack.
I had to get out a few floors before just to pull myself together.
When I finally got to the room,
I saw my mom lying in a bed.
She had a few machines hooked up to her
- but not many -
because she had an advanced directive that she didn't want to be on life support.
She looked much older than when I last saw her.
Her skin was yellow and her breathing made an awful awful sound.
She was asleep but my sister was wiping sweat off her face.
I had another panic attack in the doorway
and I just felt hysterical after seeing her.
I had to take a few steps out just to pull myself together again.
It took me a long time to work up the courage to go close to her.
And when I finally did,
a long time before I could work up the courage to hold her hand.
She was only 54
and even though I could plainly see she was dying,
my mind couldn't accept what was happening.
Throughout the evening, my sister and I kept watching our mom.
My sister was so kind, and tender, and gentle.
I didn't understand how she could be that way
considering how abusive my mom had been to her.
I didn't understand how she could muster up so much empathy.
As the night went on I was able to calm myself down and be there for my mother.
I too found empathy inside me.
My mom really struggled to breathe
and the noises she made were so scary.
At one point, she started to wake up and a doctor came to check on her.
He told us that her pain medication wore off
and he needed to give her more.
He said that she was in pain
but it would take 15 minutes before the medication started to work
so we had to distract her
because she would be confused and try to get out of bed.
He was right.
After he administered the medication,
my mom tried to get up and my sister tried to gently hold her in bed.
My mom was confused and she cried out.
So my sister told her I was there.
In that moment, my mom's eyes shot open and she called out my name.
I rushed to her side so she could see me.
I saw tears coming down her face and she squeezed my hand.
I think she was happy to see me
despite being very confused and disoriented.
She tried to get up again
so my sister was frantically trying to find a way to distract her to keep her in bed.
I suddenly remembered my mom's favourite song
that she'd always ask me to sing as a child
- Walking after Midnight by Patsy Cline.
It was an old song from the 40s,
not something many people knew.
I said to her
"Hey mom do you want me to sing you your favourite song?"
She looked at me as if she was saying yes
and I did my best to get the words out
though my voice was shakey.
My mom smiled, and said the title of the song
and then she closed her eyes and fell asleep.
The title of her favorite song were her last words.
Throughout the next few hours,
a few people my mom would drink with would show up at the hospital.
They didn't understand that my mom was dying and when they walked in,
I got so angry.
I felt these people had enabled her and contributed to her situation.
When they saw her state,
they were shocked
and instantly backed out of the room.
The next morning, one of her other friends came to the hospital
and also didn't understand or even believe she was dying.
She tried to shake my mom awake when I was in the bathroom
and when I saw I ran out asking her to stop.
Everyone was just in complete denial that my mom was dying.
I wasn't sure if my mom could hear me, but
I talked to her a lot.
The more time we spent together,
the less angry I was with her and the more empathy I began to have.
I saw that she was truly suffering
and I felt like no one deserved that.
As I watched over her,
I really started to understand
that alcoholism was a sickness and not a choice.
No one would choose to lose their daughter,
their job, or their life the way my mother had.
After nearly 24 hours awake
my sister and I decided to quickly head home
to grab some supplies to keep vigil overnight for the next evening.
When we got back to the hospital, they took us aside
and explained to us that
after we left,
our mother had passed away.
I felt incredibly guilty for leaving her
and I blamed myself.
But the doctor explained that patients would often spare their children
by holding on until they were alone.
I still felt bad.
My mom donated her body to science
so we didn't have anything to mourn.
There were no funeral or ashes.
In the following days,
people were very judgemental towards me for staying estranged for my mom,
but my sister assured me
that my mother had been abusive right up until the very end
and that I had made the right choice.
As time passed,
I would talk to my mom as if she could hear me.
I wasn't sure if I believed in anything after life
but I hoped that my mom exists somewhere
where she was no longer sick or suffering,
and understood the choices that I had to make.
It's been two years now,
and I am able to think of my mom with love instead of focusing on the bad things.
I don't regret being estranged with her,
and I'm glad that I decided to be brave to be with her in the end.
I regret that my mom's disorders and illnesses
prevented her from getting the help she needed
and having the life she deserved.
She didn't get to see me get married,
or spend time with her grandkids - my niece and nephew.
Because of my experience,
I want to encourage alcoholics and those suffering with mental illness
to reach out and accept help where they can get it.
There is so much to miss out on.
My mom's name was Heather,
and I think of her every time I see that flower.
I hope she's watching over us and is finally at peace.