Two days before she died, I watched two nurses wheel my mom into the Emergency Room. She was severely dehydrated and her blood pressure had plummeted.
In the ER, she was hooked up to a couple of fluid bags and started perking up very quickly. When the bustling activity around her had subsided, I walked over to her bedside and took her hand.
"You're a tough little broad," Mom told me, smiling and gently squeezing my hand. I just laughed through my sobs, and answered, "I'm trying..."
Am I?
I suppose so. I've traveled, I've survived some hurts and some trials. But nothing prepared me for how much I miss my mom. How strange it is that she is simply no longer living. How every once in a while a wave of grief will wash over me, taking my breath away.
On Saturday, we had her celebration of life. I sang "In My Life" by the Beatles, accompanying myself on the ukulele. People have been telling me how brave it was to get up there and sing, but I didn't feel brave, I just felt like the best way I could honor my mom was in song. After all, she was the one who dragged me to those earliest piano lessons.
Brave. Tough.
Honestly, I'm just a woman whose inner child is hurting right now.
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