Since I can remember, I heard my mom saying how difficult her life was without her mother, how much she had to suffer because of it and how every Christmas she cried. Maybe I was too young or maybe the universe didn't allow me to empathize with those feelings, to me it was and still is a waste of time, mourning about things that can't be changed. I'm not saying is wrong, but spend and base your life on that unavoidable moment is absolutely ridiculous, her pain wasn't though.
I've always been an independent person mentally and emotionally, if I can do it alone, I will. My mom was all the way around, she was too co-dependent of everyone else's emotions, thoughts and actions, maybe that's one of the reason we didn't get along that much.
As she was a toxic person to my integrity as a human being, she was too the most devoted mother anyone could have ever asked for. No one, and believe me when I say NO ONE, could or would put a hand or a bad word on me and lived to tell, because she became Athenea when it comes to me.
Time passed I was more eager to leave the house and live on my own, but I was counting I could come back home, and maybe because the distance, my mother and I would be finally best friends.
I am a human being that understand within me that everything in this world, has a balance, a cycle an end and a reason. That's one of the reason I found people who taught me how the universe, the energy and us work together, and how being an ovum, a sperm, a baby then a kid, later a teenager, an adult, an elder and then death are just cherries of the same salad. Was amazing how those explanation made me feel more complete than ever. I managed to avoid unnecessary burden to my life, if something bothers me, talk it out, or walk away. If I don't feel like going to meet someone I just don't go, and so on. I tried teaching that life style to a person who worried about every little thing, someone who was a prisoner of "what the others would say" and some other social atrocities.
And so far there's nothing I regret more, than failing to change her, I wanted her free, I wanted her happy, I wanted her to feel plenty.
My mom silently taught me a lot of things, and tried to teach me some others. One of the things she tried me doing is the importance of giving someone a gift. To me is still a matter of the heart and not because some one is waiting for it, it was like that even for her. As she pushed me to give gifts away the more my self refused, when she finally stopped, I started making gestures to her. One time I bought her a pretty black shoes that now I own, yes for those who didn't know, we could use each other's clothes or at least some of them, all of the shoes and jewelry.
I'm grateful that I voluntarily took my mom out to eat sushi, on the night would be her last birthday.
I dressed up pretty, because she always wanted me to look like a doll, I drove her to the place, I toke her order, we ate, we talked, she managed to make me feel awful in front of the owner of the place which happens to be an acquaintance of mine, but that was her... I would never be an adult to her. But that's fine, I made my part, and tried to make her happy, I really wanted.
She hated be taken pictures, but that night I took a couple, and started to take pictures of her, and with her, just because, I didn't had enough pictures with her. And now that's all I have left.
Most people don't know this, but I knew I was going to lose her while I was young, since the first time she told me, she lost her mother while being a teen something made click inside of me. For some reason I thought would be on my 17th birthday, why 17 you ask? I don't know, it just kept poping in my head, but I was wrong. So I kinda believed everything else was my mind overreacting.
A young person who managed to live inside her room with very few necessities, came out to full fill those, I found myself running to her room to hug her and stay at least 5 min under her body while she was watching tv, was so rare, she asked me if everything was ok, but I couldn't just say I needed to hug her, because I simply missed her.
June 5th, was an ordinary day, I was home doing my thing on the internet, chatting with my boyfriend, and my friends,I get a call from a friend asking me to go out, but besides my laziness something else made me say no, several times. My parents arrived home, mom was getting ready to sleep when some squeezing pain on her chest attacked her, she was pale, cold, dizzy and lightheaded. As medicine student She asked me to get my sphygmomanometer which I did, but her pressure was normal. She went to the bathroom, dad and I were getting ready to take her to the hospital, I found her losing consciousness while sitting on the toilet, there was no time for me to freak, I knew she was having a heart attack, I ran and looked for aspirin, I found the only white pills we had and smashed them, gave it to her under her tongue and dressed her to go.
As soon as we arrived the hospital, I could see how terrible the system is and the lack of humanity in my future colleagues, she wasn't taken seriously until my uncle who happens to be a doctor arrived, and speed them up.
Mom was treated, watched over, and went back home, as a new person. The situation scared the shit out of her. But that was just the beginning.
The next 3 months would change our lives. Her heart needed a bypass, which means take an artery from a leg or so and make a bridge with it in her heart, surgery date was august 5th, she had to eat healthy, she did, I was surprised. But after a week or so we ran to the situation where her pleural space started to storage liquids, pleural effusion, had to get inside intensive care once more and longer, she spent approximately 18 days, her family from all over the country came to see her, everyone was rooting for her health, I was giving up.
I became my mom's personal taxi, I started to behave like an adult, making appointments taking her to them, all she ever did for me while growing up, I did it during those 3 months. I showered her, i cleaned her, I feed her and so on. The universe let me pay some of my debts to her.
After those 18 days, she came back home, the doctors said was mom's fault all of that was happening to her because she wasn't doing enough the breathing exercise, but they were wrong. The truth is her heart never started as it should have to compensate the other organism functions. And thanks to that I blamed her, I hated her, because I saw how she was giving up on her life, how she was giving up on me.
The truth is she lasted longer because she fought, like a real warrior. (I'm sorry mother to take your credit away). She said how badly the nurses treated her, making her feel miserable, and I thought she was just being ultra sensitive like usually she was. I told her to not feel bad, because i thought they were treating her like that for her to gain strength and work harder to get out of intensive care, but I guess I was wrong again, and I failed to protect you.
A week later, after those 18 days, she went back to intensive care, was Friday, 12th, she woke up great, because finally she had a very good night sleep, but after a couple of hours, she started to feel bad again, and so we had to take her to the hospital, her lungs were getting filled up with liquids again. Had to stay in intensive care for second time. I had her breathing exercise device, so I ran inside the room to give it back in case she needed it, and ran out so i wouldn't get scolded by the hospital personal, I didn't know "Bye ma' " would be my last words to her and maybe she didn't even hear it. Since no one can stay with her inside that area, I left, went home with my cousin and aunt, to eat and rest, so we would come back at 5 pm for visit hour.
That day I ate, took a nap, woke up with a weird feeling, it was getting late for us to leave to the hospital, so I started to get my bed done, and while folding the sheets in my head I said "She can't die like this" and deeper inside me I heard "she should just stop suffering".
Driving to the hospital, normal, we've been in that trip for months, I left my aunt and cousin to walk to the intensive care hall while I was parking the car. I arrived, and as soon as I did, with my mind full of superfluous thoughts, another aunt hug me and says "She's gone" "your mom is gone".
The necessity of hugging was only hers, I was just waiting the laugh and the next part of the joke, when she says that was it, just a really bad joke. I did not cry, looked for my dad and went there. There was my mom's sister crying about her baby sister, broke my heart, and one of her favorite niece, and my dad all crying in a mourning sonata.
Tears slipped down my cheeks, and my nose started running, but I was numb. The next thing I know is people looking at me in pitty, my friends rushing to arrive and spend some time with me at the hospital before I left the city to bury my mom's flesh body. Oh and I went to pathology, I saw her laying there, with injured face, cold, and stiff. I shook her, I begged her to wake up, called her eomma, ma', mami, but there was no reply, it was true, she wasn't coming back, this wasn't a sick joke.
Next morning I woke up at Romana, where she was born, the place she loved like nowhere else, the place she was free to herself. The funeral wasn't something of my taste. Watching my mom laying in a white coffin while people started to sing and mumble christian jumbo, that I knew in my heart wasn't true, was deplorable., people hugging me, looking at me to see my reaction to see me crying and perhaps calculate how much I'm in pain for the amount of tears and cries I shout, people trying to convert me to their christian bullshit with the "If you want to see her again in heaven you have to accept Christ in your heart" all the time that happened was tactless and hurtful. That's when I realized, funerals are for the family not the deceased, is egoist, is stupid but comforting, not for me of course, remember I am a weird bug. Even tho was nice hearing people talking so good about my mom, it frustrated me, because some of them never called her, never took her out of her depression. So it really keeps me thinking people are good and great just after they are dead, same with paintings, same with singers.
Is been a month, and I have been eating the same, doing the same, and almost feeling the same. Except few times during the day I think of her, and her absence echoes in my soul. I never felt her lingering in here, so that actually comforts me, I know shes getting healed and treated well in this new phase of her self being. I just wonder If she still thinks of me.
I've always been an independent person mentally and emotionally, if I can do it alone, I will. My mom was all the way around, she was too co-dependent of everyone else's emotions, thoughts and actions, maybe that's one of the reason we didn't get along that much.
As she was a toxic person to my integrity as a human being, she was too the most devoted mother anyone could have ever asked for. No one, and believe me when I say NO ONE, could or would put a hand or a bad word on me and lived to tell, because she became Athenea when it comes to me.
Time passed I was more eager to leave the house and live on my own, but I was counting I could come back home, and maybe because the distance, my mother and I would be finally best friends.
I am a human being that understand within me that everything in this world, has a balance, a cycle an end and a reason. That's one of the reason I found people who taught me how the universe, the energy and us work together, and how being an ovum, a sperm, a baby then a kid, later a teenager, an adult, an elder and then death are just cherries of the same salad. Was amazing how those explanation made me feel more complete than ever. I managed to avoid unnecessary burden to my life, if something bothers me, talk it out, or walk away. If I don't feel like going to meet someone I just don't go, and so on. I tried teaching that life style to a person who worried about every little thing, someone who was a prisoner of "what the others would say" and some other social atrocities.
And so far there's nothing I regret more, than failing to change her, I wanted her free, I wanted her happy, I wanted her to feel plenty.
My mom silently taught me a lot of things, and tried to teach me some others. One of the things she tried me doing is the importance of giving someone a gift. To me is still a matter of the heart and not because some one is waiting for it, it was like that even for her. As she pushed me to give gifts away the more my self refused, when she finally stopped, I started making gestures to her. One time I bought her a pretty black shoes that now I own, yes for those who didn't know, we could use each other's clothes or at least some of them, all of the shoes and jewelry.
I'm grateful that I voluntarily took my mom out to eat sushi, on the night would be her last birthday.
I dressed up pretty, because she always wanted me to look like a doll, I drove her to the place, I toke her order, we ate, we talked, she managed to make me feel awful in front of the owner of the place which happens to be an acquaintance of mine, but that was her... I would never be an adult to her. But that's fine, I made my part, and tried to make her happy, I really wanted.
She hated be taken pictures, but that night I took a couple, and started to take pictures of her, and with her, just because, I didn't had enough pictures with her. And now that's all I have left.
Most people don't know this, but I knew I was going to lose her while I was young, since the first time she told me, she lost her mother while being a teen something made click inside of me. For some reason I thought would be on my 17th birthday, why 17 you ask? I don't know, it just kept poping in my head, but I was wrong. So I kinda believed everything else was my mind overreacting.
A young person who managed to live inside her room with very few necessities, came out to full fill those, I found myself running to her room to hug her and stay at least 5 min under her body while she was watching tv, was so rare, she asked me if everything was ok, but I couldn't just say I needed to hug her, because I simply missed her.
June 5th, was an ordinary day, I was home doing my thing on the internet, chatting with my boyfriend, and my friends,I get a call from a friend asking me to go out, but besides my laziness something else made me say no, several times. My parents arrived home, mom was getting ready to sleep when some squeezing pain on her chest attacked her, she was pale, cold, dizzy and lightheaded. As medicine student She asked me to get my sphygmomanometer which I did, but her pressure was normal. She went to the bathroom, dad and I were getting ready to take her to the hospital, I found her losing consciousness while sitting on the toilet, there was no time for me to freak, I knew she was having a heart attack, I ran and looked for aspirin, I found the only white pills we had and smashed them, gave it to her under her tongue and dressed her to go.
As soon as we arrived the hospital, I could see how terrible the system is and the lack of humanity in my future colleagues, she wasn't taken seriously until my uncle who happens to be a doctor arrived, and speed them up.
Mom was treated, watched over, and went back home, as a new person. The situation scared the shit out of her. But that was just the beginning.
The next 3 months would change our lives. Her heart needed a bypass, which means take an artery from a leg or so and make a bridge with it in her heart, surgery date was august 5th, she had to eat healthy, she did, I was surprised. But after a week or so we ran to the situation where her pleural space started to storage liquids, pleural effusion, had to get inside intensive care once more and longer, she spent approximately 18 days, her family from all over the country came to see her, everyone was rooting for her health, I was giving up.
I became my mom's personal taxi, I started to behave like an adult, making appointments taking her to them, all she ever did for me while growing up, I did it during those 3 months. I showered her, i cleaned her, I feed her and so on. The universe let me pay some of my debts to her.
After those 18 days, she came back home, the doctors said was mom's fault all of that was happening to her because she wasn't doing enough the breathing exercise, but they were wrong. The truth is her heart never started as it should have to compensate the other organism functions. And thanks to that I blamed her, I hated her, because I saw how she was giving up on her life, how she was giving up on me.
The truth is she lasted longer because she fought, like a real warrior. (I'm sorry mother to take your credit away). She said how badly the nurses treated her, making her feel miserable, and I thought she was just being ultra sensitive like usually she was. I told her to not feel bad, because i thought they were treating her like that for her to gain strength and work harder to get out of intensive care, but I guess I was wrong again, and I failed to protect you.
A week later, after those 18 days, she went back to intensive care, was Friday, 12th, she woke up great, because finally she had a very good night sleep, but after a couple of hours, she started to feel bad again, and so we had to take her to the hospital, her lungs were getting filled up with liquids again. Had to stay in intensive care for second time. I had her breathing exercise device, so I ran inside the room to give it back in case she needed it, and ran out so i wouldn't get scolded by the hospital personal, I didn't know "Bye ma' " would be my last words to her and maybe she didn't even hear it. Since no one can stay with her inside that area, I left, went home with my cousin and aunt, to eat and rest, so we would come back at 5 pm for visit hour.
That day I ate, took a nap, woke up with a weird feeling, it was getting late for us to leave to the hospital, so I started to get my bed done, and while folding the sheets in my head I said "She can't die like this" and deeper inside me I heard "she should just stop suffering".
Driving to the hospital, normal, we've been in that trip for months, I left my aunt and cousin to walk to the intensive care hall while I was parking the car. I arrived, and as soon as I did, with my mind full of superfluous thoughts, another aunt hug me and says "She's gone" "your mom is gone".
The necessity of hugging was only hers, I was just waiting the laugh and the next part of the joke, when she says that was it, just a really bad joke. I did not cry, looked for my dad and went there. There was my mom's sister crying about her baby sister, broke my heart, and one of her favorite niece, and my dad all crying in a mourning sonata.
Tears slipped down my cheeks, and my nose started running, but I was numb. The next thing I know is people looking at me in pitty, my friends rushing to arrive and spend some time with me at the hospital before I left the city to bury my mom's flesh body. Oh and I went to pathology, I saw her laying there, with injured face, cold, and stiff. I shook her, I begged her to wake up, called her eomma, ma', mami, but there was no reply, it was true, she wasn't coming back, this wasn't a sick joke.
Next morning I woke up at Romana, where she was born, the place she loved like nowhere else, the place she was free to herself. The funeral wasn't something of my taste. Watching my mom laying in a white coffin while people started to sing and mumble christian jumbo, that I knew in my heart wasn't true, was deplorable., people hugging me, looking at me to see my reaction to see me crying and perhaps calculate how much I'm in pain for the amount of tears and cries I shout, people trying to convert me to their christian bullshit with the "If you want to see her again in heaven you have to accept Christ in your heart" all the time that happened was tactless and hurtful. That's when I realized, funerals are for the family not the deceased, is egoist, is stupid but comforting, not for me of course, remember I am a weird bug. Even tho was nice hearing people talking so good about my mom, it frustrated me, because some of them never called her, never took her out of her depression. So it really keeps me thinking people are good and great just after they are dead, same with paintings, same with singers.
Is been a month, and I have been eating the same, doing the same, and almost feeling the same. Except few times during the day I think of her, and her absence echoes in my soul. I never felt her lingering in here, so that actually comforts me, I know shes getting healed and treated well in this new phase of her self being. I just wonder If she still thinks of me.
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