February 26, 2002
Dear Mom, I would give anything to know for sure that you knew I was in the room with you alone. I think all four of us had some time alone with you. You were on morphine and kept waking up asking me "dear, why am I so tired?" You had asked the nurses a few times to be sure the doctor knew you were a DNR. I looked out the window and the snow flakes were huge and looked like they were falling in slow motion. I wanted to wake you up so you could see this out the window and have it be one of the last things you saw. Why was I so afraid to lay down next to you in the bed? So, I sat on the edge of the bed describing the snowfall out the window. I didnt know how deep you were into your morphine sleep, but when you heard "Birdie's" voice you squeezed my hand. My thoughts suddenly were how do you grieve for a dying mother. There is no handbook on this. I decided to just sit there and love you. When I had to leave I felt confident, sort of, that my three sisters and I would be able to sit with you the next day and be with you when you passed. The next morning as we were all getting ready to go in and be with you, we got the call that when they were trying to move you to a private room you had a heart attack and died. I remember the terrible fear you had of falling, mostly since that awful fall in Florida. I am sorry we were not there at the exact time you passed. I wish you knew were all on our way.
I want to thank you for a specific memory I have - When we would go to Hermit Island every summer in Maine and camp with our cousins, the drive was extremely long. You would work during the year cutting out pictures for us and when we got in the back seat of the car (4 of us side by side) for the very long ride, we each had a packet of images we had to try and locate on the long trip and check off our lists, i.e., Howard Johnson's, Texaco station, Volkswagen, etc. - It kept us occupied trying to outdo one another.
I remember waking up in the tent every morning on Casco Bay to the smell of bacon and coffee you were making. I could smell and hear the ocean- beautiful Casco Bay. I could hear the Coleman stove firing. I have a faint memory of Dad teaching me to swim in the Lily Pond. I have a photo of it. We would go climbing on the rocks with our chisels hammers to extract the beautiful garnets which happens to be my birthstone. In my darkest moments I conjure up these memories. I hope you have peace now mom. I miss you.
Mom this one's for you.
|Marion Louise Howard|