I’ll never forget the call I got from Brandi telling me to get over there. I was so scared, but I knew I had to be calm. The kids were in bed, and Daniel didn’t really want me to go alone. But there was no way for him to go with me. I told him I’d be alright. You know I can’t drive at night (something I got from you). So I drove as carefully as I could. I got about halfway to Michelle’s house when Brandi called me again. She said you were gone. I don’t really remember driving the rest of the way, but I do remember feeling numb. I remember walking into the house and seeing Brandi and Michelle sitting at the table crying. I remember walking in farther and seeing Misty crying. And a little bit farther I saw Dad sitting next to your bed, his glasses resting on your leg, holding your hand, his head on the bed beside you. And I remember seeing you. Well, not YOU you, but the woman who took over your body after your kidneys shut down.
I remember I didn’t look at you for very long. I didn’t want to think about that image every time I though of you. So I walked into the other room to be by myself. I sat on the couch and cried. By myself. Because I’m not the type of person that likes to cry in front of others. Did you know, Momma, that to this day (almost two weeks later) that I’ve still not let Daniel see me cry? I just can’t do it. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t cry for you.
I cry because I miss you. I cry because I think you’re mad at me. I cry because you didn’t ask to see me during those last few days, but you asked to see Tessa. I cry because just 5 years ago you were coming to my house weekly with new clothes for the baby. I cry because I don’t think you really knew what you were doing when you stopped dialysis. I cry because after days of being too weak to make a peep, you screamed not once, but twice before you took your final breath. I cry because I wonder what those screams mean.
I love you, Momma. And I really do hope you’re at peace now.
With love always,