Saturday was the one year anniversary of my mother's death.
It had been sudden, and painful, as well as physically exhausting for me. The last I had seen of my mom, was when I had been asked by her to cut her toenails. My sister and her had a disagreement, and my sister told my mom to find a solution to the problem, so mom called me.
I had wanted to see my mom since January, but I didn't see her until early August. Because of her immunocompromised state as a kidney transplant recipient, and because of Covid--as well as my sister's family going back and forth as her caregivers/caregiver coordinators, and THEIR daughter being a kidney transplant recipient too...they were totally afraid of the Covid.
So I called mom every day, usually on my way in to work. But when I saw her, I saw with my doctor's eyes--swollen legs weeping fluid out of them, shortness of breath. I knew mom's two competing conditions--an aging kidney graft with weakening function, and tightening aortic stenosis--were advancing along. One of them was going to win. I did my best to cheer mom and tell her I love her.
In hindsight, it was the kidney that failed first.
Mom never wanted to risk the kidney. That's why she said no to the dye used in the studies to figure out a plan to fix the heart.
Dad had been gone since 2009, her mom since 2013, her beloved father since 1992. Even her brother had been gone since April 2020 but the family didn't know that yet, because he was estranged. She had been dreaming about being back in Italy, about her parents, about dad, for months now.
She said she was ready.
When I got the call, it was a Thursday night. My sister explained what happened, how she called the ambulance, and because of Covid not everyone could visit. But to bring Anthony to the hospital to say his goodbyes. So at midnight in the morning--I guess Friday morning? We drove immediately the long distance to the hospital, which is closer to Los Angeles than my mom's home in Long Beach, which is a forty minute drive.
As we called the ICU to be let in through the doors, we were told not to come to the hospital, because my sister and her husband were the only two visitors allowed.
We were shocked and said we were on the other side of the door, my son is very close, please just ten minutes?
And that's what we got.
For me, mom kept pointing to the breathing tube, and I kept ignoring it because I knew without it she'd be gone soon.
Anthony kept sharing memories and mom nodded a little for him.
I took in the room and saw she was septic with full pressor support. If the antibiotics worked, she'd live. If the kidneys had failed, then, that was it.
I never lie. My mom did, lots of social white lies to 'make people feel good'.
But when I called mom in the ER, before the intubation, just since Covid wouldn't let us visit, Mom said on speaker phone to me and Anthony, 'look, this isn't a good time for me to talk'. Her voice sounded scratchy and hoarse and short of breath.
I told my sisters, that I had spoken to mom, and she said she loved them very much and wanted them to know.
I totally lied. Just like mom. To make my sisters feel good at the end.
Anthony and I came back home. But the next day, mom had signed the papers, she wanted the tube out, and that was it.
She had wanted to go home, get transport home, to die there, but no one would take her. My sisters were perplexed, but I understood.
Both of them were in the room, 'two family members allowed'. and was stuck outside, using the sorta-potty and waiting for a turn to go inside.
When it was time for the extubation (death), my sister left so I could go in and be with mom and the pregnant one.
Mom croaked something when the tube came out. I didn't understand it. I think Vanessa later said mom said, 'I'm ready' or 'I'm not afraid'.
I saw the nurses turn off the pressors, strong infusions of i.v.medication fluids to help the heart.
And I saw mom's shock/surprise/disbelief in how quickly she wasn't able to breathe.
Like the mice snake eats--after being unable to breathe, mom lost consciousness soon. The same glassy eyes. The same agonal breath movements. She turned a ghastly pale. On the monitors I could see the EKG go from tachycardia, to wide QRS, to slow bradycardia, to agonal, to asystole, just about as fast as it takes for me to write it.
The other not-pregnant sister was watching on video call and listening to Neil Diamond the whole time.
I saw mom enter the tunnel of light, she was very shocked and confused, and didn't want to go all the way up. My nana Angelina had to come down, grab her by the hand, and take her up.
Seeing that startled me. It was the first time I ever saw anyone not be happy and run up with joy to Heaven.
On reflection, I think mom saw her little brother there, and freaked out, because no one had told us he was dead. Even the family didn't get told until October or November I think.
Afterwards, I prepared for the long drive home--again. Anthony and I were hungry. We ate at Denny's somewhere, I'm not even sure what town it was in to be honest. It wasn't home. It wasn't by mom's. I was in total shock at the time.
She was gone.
With not so much as a goodbye to me.
The year went by. I never spoke with her.
I'm a medium. My own mom wouldn't say hello.
She makes her presence felt to my sisters and to Anthony.
But not me.
So, in preparation for the anniversary, which is hard, I sent flowers to both my sisters. Flowers, since mom loved them, really helped.
Anthony left for his dad's, and I was on call. Just my luck, right?
But Vanessa texted me and said, 'it's raining, it's like mom's favorite' and I agreed.
Oddly enough, there were no cases. None booked. None added on.
I got to enjoy what the French call, a 'grasse matinee' (fat morning)--being lazy and in my pajamas.
I went to the porch swing. I cried. I cried over everything. My mom's and my horrible relationship, where no matter what, deep down, we never understood each other. Over her being gone. Over having to work and not being able to grieve. Over my work situation now.
Then I saw Ross.
He was with mom.
They had a surprise for me.
A table was set for tea.
The only game--pre sister, pre rough times for us--mom and I enjoyed was having tea together when I was very little. She was 'Mrs Jones' and I was 'Mrs. Smith'. We would use fake voices and act super polite, and have cookies and milk together, or sometimes, weak tea with lots of milk in it. That was one of the times I felt pure, heart to heart joy.
Mom had special cookies for me, red ones I've never seen.
I could tell she and Ross had prepared this one a long time.
I still cry now as I write it, because it meant so much to me.
I didn't get to stay very long.
But I learned something.
I told mom the reason I was always mad at her was because she never held me enough, I wanted to be held.
When my sister was one, she pushed me out of mom's lap, and mom let her.
I was never held after that.
The betrayal was intense. I always hated my sister and my mom for letting that happen, for not being fair, and for pushing me out of what was my birthright--to be close to my own mother! As I grew up, their relationship became a love-hate one that was way too intense. Their fights, which were constant, rocked the very foundation of our happy family we had experienced before, mom, dad, and me.
Dad and I were like outcasts in our own family, and clung to one another emotionally for mutual support. That was when I became dad's 'boy', the 'tomboy', reloading shotgun shells at six, and becoming the first girl on a little league team in sixth grade--fishing, camping, throwing the football, all that good stuff.
I'm thankful dad had the time for me. And also thankful for the loving support of my Nana Angelina and Nannu Filippo, who were fully aware of what was happening and they as my godparents gave me extra love and affection.
I thanked mom for the visit. And also, for the light call. I was so thankful because she knew in life how much I hated call.
Only one surgeon called me in. Two cases around eleven thirty. I went back home after having a Philly Cheesesteak sandwich for Lunch and Dinner. I stopped by the crystal shop on my way home. In mom's fashion, I asked for a discount even though the worker didn't really know me. And the owner didn't call her back. She offered me a free crystal that was less than five dollars, of my choice, as 'a gift from the store', but I chose not to do that.
I have a beautiful red lemurian point to remind me of mom. It totally has her energy in it.
Last night, when Anthony came home from his dad's, we had Kentucky Fried Chicken, again, to celebrate mom.
I'm so glad we made peace.
Ross told me to write about this.
And he wants you to know that if you have difficult relationships, not to worry, because once they are passed, everything will sort itself out.
And if you are lucky, you will have a special visit, or a dream, to help you understand the misunderstandings are resolved, as well.
clap! clap!
Aloha and Mahalos,
Namaste,
Peace,
Ross and Carla
The Couple
