THE LAST TIME I SAW MY MOTHER
The last time I saw my mother I didn’t know it was going to be the last time.
The last time I saw my mother, she didn’t see me.
The last time I saw her, she didn’t see herself. She didn’t see how long and gray her hair had grown or noticed there was no color on her nails.
The last time I saw my mother, she didn’t know her chest was moving up and down following the rhythm of a machine. She couldn’t see the amount of drugs she was hooked up to, keeping her alive and mercifully asleep.
She didn’t see that when I got to her room that day and saw her hair drenched in sweat, I realized immediately that something had gone terribly wrong.
She couldn’t see the despair on my face or my tears pouring over hers. She didn’t know her heart had stopped beating for five minutes.
The last time I saw my mother, she couldn’t hear “Doe, a deer, a female deer..” playing on my phone right next to her ear. She could have never guessed her beloved Julie Andrews would perform her requiem. She didn’t see me crying and singing out loud and letting her know that she could go, if she needed to go, but begging her to please stay.
The last time I saw my mother she didn’t feel my fingers going through her hair or my lips wet with tears kissing her forehead. Regret laced tears of unanswered phone calls and unsaid I love yous.
The last time I saw my mother was the first time I realized how much I longed to hear her voice just one more time. It was the first time I realized how painfully I would miss her.
The last time I saw my mother, I knew she would take a piece of me with her.
The last time I saw my mother, was the first time I understood the meaning of too late.
•••
I miss my mom. Every day. I live with the little consolation that I, at least, got to say that I loved her over the phone right before she went into surgery. She died on April 16, 2022 of anesthesia complications and other underlying illnesses. She Is survived by her loving husband and my brothers and I. She will be eternally loved and missed.
