The Day Mom Died

Posted on June 20, 2015 by Darolyn Gray

Within months of our last magical visit with mom at Sunnyside Nursing Home in Syracuse, NY, her health went quickly downhill. At 95 pounds and with a long history of complications, she had little strength left. Although I had a Monday flight booked, my family called to suggest that I come right away. As my heartbeat raced in panic, I scrambled to book the only available seat left on a flight from Minneapolis. Too late. Shortly before I left for the airport, she passed peacefully away. My niece had texted a photo that day…mom at death’s door clutching the doll I had given her on our last visit. She looked nothing like my mom, and this startled me. Another photo–my dad singing to her, caused me to weep openly..for both of them and for all of us. A marriage of 63 years fading by the minute. The lump in my throat never went away that day. My emotions were all over the map that first day–and I cried off and on. But, as the eldest, it was time to swing into task mode and prepare for her service…calls to the pastor, selecting hymns and scripture, writing the eulogy, pulling together pictures for the music video. I fought the tears most of the time in the two weeks before her service, immersed myself in work at the office, and headed home just a few days before the service. Once back East, I was more composed than I thought I would be. I wanted to be strong for my dad ( he was completely bereft), for my siblings, for my children, my wife, and others who were each grieving in their own personal way. The rest of the week was spent going over paperwork with my father, accompanying him to the bank to change signature cards, making phone calls to insurance companies, and helping him get things “in order.” I cried a few times while rehearsing the eulogy–but only when reading it to my daughters, Molly and Cloe. I knew that the only way I would get through it would be to not look at my dad and other family members seated in the first two rows. At the very end, when I spoke of my parents’ great love for one another, my voice cracked…but I managed to keep myself from running completely off the rails. I finished…to my great relief and no doubt to the relief of my daughters who were at the ready to step in if I “lost it.” When we returned to Minneapolis, I was back at work on Monday, feeling mostly numb. It would be a few weeks before I would truly allow myself to grieve.

 

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