Thursday, July 10, 2014

One Year Later


Moments that are forever seared into my brain. July 11th, 2013.

Sitting at my desk looking at Facebook at my phone to see a post from my sister asking people to pray.

Texting her to see what was going on.

Listening to her voice on the other side of the phone when she says there has been an accident.

Crying at my desk as I listen to what is happening.

Not being able to think clearly about what I am supposed to do.

Calling my husband while he was at school to tell him the situation while standing outside work pacing in the July heat.

Him not answering so I text to tell him that I have an emergency and I need him to call me.

Him calling me and me telling him that my mom has been airlifted to a hospital in Minneapolis.

Richard telling me that if she was airlifted that it is pretty serious. Him telling me to book a plane ticket to go home.

Going back to my desk and looking at plane tickets not being able to process what is happening.

Asking my boss to step into his office as I hold back the tears as best I can to tell him my mom has been in an accident and that I need to go home to Minnesota.

Calling my husband to find out that he has his parents working to get me a plane ticket for the first flight out and that he is driving home from school to take me to the airport.

Calling my dad and hearing the hurt, desperation and fear in his voice.

Trying to pack not knowing if there would be a funeral or not. Grabbing any clothes I could think of and not wanting to pack an outfit that is completely black.

Richard getting home informing me that we need to drive to Baton Rouge to make the flight.

My mom's boss and best friend calling me because she heard about what was happening.

My mind racing of all the possibilities of what could happen.

Texting and calling my family every five minutes with an update from the hospital.

Crying so hard my body was shaking.

Listening to my husband talk on the phone with my dad and getting an update from him.

Having him not tell me what was going on and saying that he needed to pull over to get gas at the next station.

Him pulling in and telling me what my dad just told him. That my mom did not survive surgery. That they could not get the bleeding to stop. That I would never get to talk to my mom or hug her or see her again.

Crying in the parking lot with my husband as he held me and cried uncontrollably.

Telling him that we needed to keep driving so I could make my flight.

Having Richard drop me off at the airport so that I could make my flight by myself.

Trying my very best not to cry in the airport. Having the people around me notice I am crying and wondering what is going through their mind.

Having my dear friend from work tell me that she has taken care of telling my boss and his boss. Them telling her that I could take as much time as I needed and that I get five days off work for bereavement pay.

Having people start finding out what was going on and texting me.

Not being able to stop crying on the plane. Having awkward conversations with people nearby who could tell I was crying.

Having my family pick me up from the airport. Standing on the curb of the Minneapolis airport group hugging and crying with my sisters and my dad.

Not wanting to let go of them ever.

Going to my moms house with my sisters and lying in her bed crying with them. Wanting her back for just one more day.

The moments before the wake where I felt like throwing up because I knew I was going to see her body for the first time. Tears rolling down my face sitting at my sister's kitchen table while my other sister had to turn away from me because she could not watch me cry because she was trying to eat.

Not being able to eat for days because the thought of food made me sick.

Sitting with my sisters remembering all the fun times we had with our mom. Trying to decide on which stories to tell at the funeral. Because we could not bear the thought of saying anything sad there. So instead we teamed up and the three of us took turns telling our favorite stories about our mom. The stories we want to remember.

Moments that I never thought I would have to experience. Pain and anger that I never want to feel again. Pain that does not feel any less intense one year later.

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