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The phone fell from my ear when the young woman told me my mom was in the hospital.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
“It’s my mom. She’s in the hospital. I have to go.”
“I’ll go with you.”
We both got dressed and rushed to the hospital. We asked the receptionist where she was, and she walked us to her room. Her skin so pale and fragile laying there on the hospital bed. There was no color to her cheeks, and she could barely move.
“Mom, what happened?”
“Honey, I’m getting worse. The doctor says I don’t have long,” She said with a tear in her eye.
“Is there anything you need me to do? Anything you need me to get for you?” Camilla asked her.
“Yes, you can take care of my son when I pass. I want to know if someone will take care of him. He is a worthy man and deserves the best. I know he will be heartbroken when I am gone.”
She started crying.
I squeezed her hand. “I’ve got that covered.”
I pulled a chair next to the bed and held her hand. “I’m not ready.” I tried so hard to hold myself together, but the thought of losing her killed me. “We both finally have a chance with him gone, and now this. Why is god doing this?”
“I’m so sorry for all I put you through. For staying with your father. Hopefully someday you can forgive me.”
I wiped the tears falling, “Mom, I love you. I forgive you.”
The doctor came in and told us to let her rest. We didn’t leave but pulled up chairs, and slept with her. I didn’t want to leave my mom all alone in this hospital with only little time left. Who knew how much time I had left with her.
The next morning, I woke up to her staring at us. “Good morning How are you feeling today?”
“I feel better, actually but would love something for breakfast.” She said.
“Anything for you, Mom.”
Camilla and I walked over to McDonald's because mom loves their pancakes. As we were walking back down the hall, nurses were rushing into her room. I could tell something was wrong. When I detected the continuous tone, my eyes started to water.
“DO CPR!” I yelled, running into her room.
“I’m sorry we can’t. Your mom is a DNR.” The nurses replied.
I dropped to my knees and started balling. “We went to get breakfast. We were only gone for 10 minutes.”
The doctor walked in, and I tapped him on his shoulder to get his attention.
“Son, I believe she sent you away, so you wouldn’t have to watch her pass.”
I shook my head, “No. She didn’t want to die alone. She didn’t want to die at all.” I tilted my head, “Why did you have to take her? Why?”
Situations like that hurt your faith because who wants to believe our god takes the people that we love. Why would he want to cause us grief?
“Would you like some time alone with her before we take her?” The doctor asked.
I nodded my head, and both of them stepped out to give me some privacy.
As I stared at her, the realness set in that my mother was gone. I’d never hear her voice again, or be able to give her a hug. Why the hell did I have to go get her breakfast? I should have stayed here with her, held her hand and told her I loved her. The thought of knowing I could’ve said goodbye and didn’t was overwhelming. She was gone.
I opened the door, and shook my head in her direction to the doctor as I took Camilla’s hand in mine. As the orderlies took her body away, I whispered, “Goodbye, Mom.”
