Mother's Day

My mom was so good about cards. She already has birthday cards for the next year written out.

I'm not great with cards; I'm more of a gift person. I'll spend hours picking out a gift and forget to put a card with it. But this year, I already had her Mother's Day card (and part of her gift, which was nice stationary with sunflowers on it) weeks in advance.

She thought she had food poisoning, and the last time I touched her was giving her Zofran to take away her nausea so she could get rest. We were supposed to grab lunch right before I had to leave town, but she told me to let her sleep in.

I kept calling to check on her and see if I needed to come back and take her to the ER, but she kept telling me she just needed to rest and that she'd see me when I got back home the next day. My dad and brother got her Pepto Bismol and chicken soup, and she kept telling us all she needed to rest. She always thought I was so smart, but I couldn't tell she was having a heart attack and dying. She never even had any chest pain. I was giving her Zofran when I should have been taking her to a cardiologist. She was my mom and my best friend; I should have known even if she didn't.

I had just finished putting flowers on her father's grave, which is two hours away and in the city I was in, when Dad called to tell me he was taking her to the ER. He said she was just dehydrated from the food poisoning, but I rushed back anyway. He called me as I was speeding on the interstate to tell me she had a heart attack as soon as she got to the ER, but they were working on her. He was optimistic. As soon as I got there, the prognosis kept getting worse and worse. I called my brother and told him to come to the hospital. She passed five minutes after I called him. None of us got to say goodbye. We weren't even supposed to touch her body because the medical examiner had look at her. Dad held her hand anyway. I didn't want to leave the room because I thought I could get her to wake up even if the doctors couldn't. She didn't wake up.

Her dad passed at 53, and her mom passed at 56, both from cancer. Mom passed at exactly 63 and a half. I didn't even realize it was her half birthday until I was working her obituary. She taught high school English for 33 years, so I had to get it just right.

She passed exactly three days after I got her card and two weeks before Mother's Day. We wrote in her card and buried it with her, along with one of her favorite pens. Dad used the fancy stationary to write thank you cards to the pastors and singers after her funeral. I was going to put together a big bouquet of fresh sunflowers to give her, but I put together a bouquet of silk sunflowers instead. We were going to go eat somewhere nice, but I just want to sit at her grave all day and not even think about food. At least she has her card.