When they called, they informed me that the mother of a girl I went to school and swam with is currently in a coma. She wasn’t involved in a car crash, she didn’t have cancer. She simply woke up one morning feeling a bit ill and short of breath, so she called the doctor. He told her to go to the hospital, and as her daughter was driving her there, she slumped over and never woke up. They say she has no brain activity outside of her brainstem: a vegetable. It’s terrifying. My friend’s mother has suddenly become no more than a few rudimentary reflexes and a pile of drool. That could have been my mom.
I guarantee that when her family looks at her, they see the same old Mom. They see the person they knew. That someone must still be in there, they imagine. Why can’t we bring her out again? Why can’t we turn her back on? How did this happen? Could we have prevented it?
I picture myself driving my mother to the hospital. Maybe in my mind, I’d be thinking God, mom, today? Why do you have to be sick today? This is totally ruining my schedule; I could be a thousand other places right now. Maybe I’d even snap at her. And then she’d be dead. She’d be dead, and I would have missed my final chance to tell her how much I love her, how much more important she is to me than any stupid volleyball game I was missing or movie I wouldn’t get to watch with a friend.
She’d be gone like that, in the time it takes a traffic light to turn from green to red. She would be dead in the car with me, and I wouldn’t even know. I’d probably panic when I saw her slump over in her seat and think that if I rushed, if I drove faster and beat that red light, if I made it through at the tail end of the yellow, she’d be okay. It’s probably dehydration or something I’d tell myself. We’ll get to the hospital and they’ll fix her. Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen? Forty or fifty-year old mothers aren’t supposed to wake up and die one morning.
What if it were my mother? Would someone find me to tell me right away, or would everyone wait until I came home as scheduled? Would I feel guilty for being here, far away, and not having spent more time with her? Is it possible to feel guilty for something over which I have no control?
Perhaps most importantly: what do I do with the time we have left?
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2 comments:
deep...in all honest, we all are going to die at some point, but you can't really think about death. you really need to focus on life. you should appreciate them while they are here, because when they die then it hardly is ever expect.
the bad news is that it'll never feel like you done enough.
at least that's my view on it.
live. chill. tell her you love her every day, and know that she knows it. don't put shit off, but don't kill yourself getting 'everything' done either.
savor and enjoy dear.
although i have to agree with rome on this one. who knows if it'll ever be enough? especially for you. you could teach a catholic about guilt.
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