Chapter Three--Chronicles of my Ghetto Street

Life was good…for the first time in a LONG time. I truly didn’t care if it got any better than it was at that time. I had begun to make plans for the summer, since the children would be gone to their father’s houses in Michigan. I had big plans on taking time out for me…I wanted to plant a garden…and I had gotten permission from the landlord to paint the walls of our little house.

When we moved in…the family room (where the girls slept) was all wood panel…there were no walls separating any of the rooms (except the bedroom) and there were no doors (except on the bathroom). What was painted in the house was a tan color. I felt at times like I was living in a little can of tuna. Everything was shades of tan and brown.

I didn’t get to spend my summer quite as I planned though. God had different plans for me. His plans all started to unfold on March 8th. I will never forget that day.

My mother was supposed to come and spend a week at the new house with us to make curtains for the windows and spend time with me and the children. She had fallen on the ice about a week prior, and she wasn’t feeling good. She had a lot of back pain.

A few days later, she was complaining of stomach pain. She had suffered from Gastro Esophagul Reflux Disorder and Barrett’s Esophagus for a long time, and she had apparently been out of her
medication for a while. She never told anybody.

I finally convinced her that she needed to go see the doctor with the help of my sister. I worry a lot by nature…but this time I was REALLY worried and I couldn’t quite put my finger on the reason why. The move to Indiana was difficult for me in the first place, because I was so far away from my family. On March 8th, the call came in that would alter everybody’s lives that year.

I was helping the children with their homework when the phone rang. I answered to hear my mother’s voice…she didn’t sound good.
“Hi baby…” She took a deep sigh.

“Mom…what’s wrong?”

“Oh honey…it’s not good…it’s just not good at all.” A deep rooted fear gripped my entire body immediately and I didn’t even know why.

“What’s the matter Mama?” Three little faces peered up at me, sensing the urgency in my voice.

“Well, I’m at the hospital. I went to the doctor today, and they called me to come back this evening to talk to me. Liza and Willie are with me….” Another deep sigh… and silence.

I bordered on yelling. My hands began to sweat and my stomach was immediately tied into knots…”Just tell me what’s going on Mama.” I
swallowed hard, not knowing if I was swallowing back tears or vomit.

“I have Cancer baby…they have only given me two weeks to live.”

I took leave of all my senses and completely forgot that I was the adult and was supposed to be in control…right there in front of my babies…I completely lost it. All I remember is that I started screaming NO over and over again. At some point, I dropped the phone.

It was like God knew I was really losing it…and he snapped me out of it for my children’s sake. When my senses returned, I found myself in the corner, hugging my legs, and my head rested on my
knees. I was rocking back and forth. I took several deep breaths. I looked up and it was almost scary how quickly I got myself together. It was like I was two different people.

My son was beating his fists into the bathroom door screaming, my oldest daughter was in the middle of the floor face down wailing, and my youngest just sat…stoically…with silent tears rolling down her face. I gathered them together and told them that we needed to pray right away.

My two daughters sat on each side of me with my arms around them, and my Trevor sat in front of me on the floor, his cheek rested on my knee. “Guys. Listen to me now. We gotta understand that this
Cancer in Grandma doesn’t come from God. NOTHING bad comes from God, okay?”

I looked at each precious little tear streaked face. All I could think of was all of my nieces…my sister…my brother. I swallowed back my tears again, feeling my head begin to pulsate. “Listen to
me…okay…listen to mama. God IS going to heal Grandma…it might be here on earth…or He may choose to give Grandma the ultimate healing…she might go to Heaven…and there…everything in her will be healed…she won’t ever hurt again…she won’t ever be sick again…and she’ll never be sad or cry again.”

I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. I held my three little loves and we all cried quietly. My little Diamond wiped the tears from my face. “Mommy….don’t cry any more…please?”

I looked at her… “Baby…its okay for us to cry. You understand? My mommy is sick, and I’m sad…and it’s okay for me to cry. You might see me cry a lot over the next few weeks baby…and its okay.”

She nodded.

I turned to look the other two in the eye. “We’ve gotta pray…and keep on praying guys. Okay? Even if it looks like Grandma isn’t going to make it… even if they say she’s gonna die any minute…
we still have to keep thanking God…'cause Him and Grandma are going to win no matter what.”

As I spoke the words to the children, I knew that I needed to be applying them myself…because I knew that if my Mama’s spirit were to leave…I wouldn’t know what to do…I didn’t even want to think about it, but deep in my heart…I knew that day was the beginning of the end of my mother’s life.

Twelve years before this, I had gotten a very similar phone call. My mother had Acute Myolegenic Leukemia.

I immediately went to the hospital, and I stayed by her side to help her fight. There were times when the chemotherapy had her ready to give up. I wasn’t going to allow it. I knew this wasn’t the end. She would lie in bed and tell me “I just want to die Marie…just please…let me die”. I knew in my heart it just wasn’t the end...not yet. I knew God wasn’t ready for her to come be with Him. She had more lives to touch…more smiles to deliver.

This time, it was different. I had the urgency to get to her side as soon as possible…but the reasons were different. I had a desperate need to spend as much time as I possibly could with her until there was no more time left.

I got the kids in bed, and stayed up to pack for all of us in order to leave for Michigan the next morning.

When we got to the hospital, my heart sank immediately.

I walked in my mom’s room, and she looked like she was 6 months pregnant. Everyone else had been around her daily, so they didn’t really notice that she was so bloated out since she was a chunky
lady anyway. The swelling, as it would turn out, was due to
cancer in her liver. The pain in her back that she had been dealing with was due to cancer in her spine.

I stayed at the hospital with her for eleven days straight. I couldn’t bring myself to leave her side, and I barely slept. What amazed me though…was that even through all of her pain and discomfort… she was only concerned about me.

She would wake up from drifting in and out of what I called “Morphine field trips”…and she would ask me if I had eaten every time. She even had the nurses checking me to see if I was eating.

She knew my “breakfast of champions” was a Newport and a cold Pepsi. I was wearing down little by little though, and my emotions were getting the best of me.

I seemed to be the only one that was willing to admit that we were watching our mother die.

Liza, my sister, has a very strong faith in God. She felt as though if we admitted that Mama had Cancer…it would give strength to the Devil. She wanted everyone to word it “Mom has been
DIAGNOSED with Cancer.” I admired her faith…but I had issue with the fact that I was accused of having a LACK of faith because I didn’t feel the same way that she did.

I caused a lot of controversy, because I knew that if Mom was unable to make decisions for herself, we needed to have a living will done. Mom didn’t have any material goods to be split up or designated. I just wanted to make sure that HER WISHES would be abided by if the time came when she couldn’t voice them.

I found a moment when Mommy was pretty coherent. She was sitting up in the chair in the corner of her hospital room, admiring all of the beautiful flowers that lined every flat surface of her
room. It smelled like a floral shop in there. I sat down on the floor in front of her going through all of my clothing that I had brought to send it with my sister-in-law to be washed and brought back up to me.

“Mommy, I want to talk to you about something.” I looked up at her.

“Okay baby.” She patted on her lap, signaling for me to come sit there. I couldn’t help but smile.

I scooted over next to her on the floor and sat by her feet. I looked up at her beautiful sparkling eyes and her smile as she rubbed my hair. “Mama, I know that God is in control, right?” She nodded. “But I feel like somebody HAS to be willing to admit that
He may choose to take you to Heaven in order to heal you.” The tears started to come…I decided not to even fight them…because it would be a lost battle.

“Oh baby…I know. You’ve always been a realist through your faith. I understand what you’re saying.”

“We’ve gotta talk about a lot of things Mama. Have you thought about what you’re going to do about chemotherapy? Do you want to do treatments or not?” I looked in her eye.

“I do baby. I want to battle this…to stand and fight. If I feel God telling me it’s time to stop fighting…because I’m fighting Him instead of the enemy…then that’s when I will stop the
treatments.” She stroked my hair as one little tear dropped from her cheek.

I laid my head down on her leg, and just enjoyed feeling my Mommy’s love. “Mommy?”

“Yes baby?” I looked back up at her.

“Are you scared?”

“No…I’m not scared at all.” Suddenly her face began to glow and the most beautiful smile graced her. “I know that no matter what…our God is going to heal me baby. And…oh…when I think about going to Heaven…oh baby…no…Mommy’s not scared.”

“Mama…you talked about it getting to the point where we could be fighting God’s will rather than fighting Satan’s plot…it makes me know that we need to do a living will for you. Your desires need
to be put into writing.”

At that point, we decided that we needed to hold a family meeting. Liza was a little irritated. My mother set up within the will that she would have DNR status…which meant that there would be no
‘heroics’ to save her life.

Do Not Resuscitate.

Damn. The words rang in my ear the rest of the night. I cried most of the night because of the reality of the whole matter. My mama was going to die. I knew the DNR status had to be set out though…
I’m not downing Liza, but she would have kept Mama alive with tubes all through her body for years if it meant that she could see her face every day. I’m not calling her selfish...she just saw things differently than I did.

We weren’t God…and I knew that when it was Mom’s time to go…we needed to be brave enough to let her go.

On the eleventh day at the hospital, I had hit exhaustion…and I was getting sick. Alan and Liza discussed with Mama’s doctor the fact that I was ill…and everybody BUT me came to the conclusion
that I needed to go home.

I left to return as Mama was going into surgery to have a shunt surgically inserted into her chest for the chemotherapy. Once out of surgery, she would be going to Liza’s house to live.

When I got home…I did something I never thought that I would do.
My hair was past my behind at the time…it was very long…thick…and beautiful. That night…I was brushing it out to braid it before going to sleep. I had to do this every night, because if I didn’t, I would roll over onto my own hair, and my head would get yanked back.

As I braided it up, I was thinking about how tired I was of it. I guess it was the exhaustion or something…I really don’t know…but I went and got the scissors…and I cut my braid off.

I stood in the bathroom and cut it into a cute little spikey cut…with a little length in the front that swept over my big ass forehead. I looked in the mirror…and felt a new me as I stared at the reflection.

Mom’s battle with her Cancer lasted for three months, and in those three months she lived a very full life. When all was said and done, the Cancer had spread to her pelvic bone, her rib cage, her breasts, her lymph nodes, and her brain. She had been in intensive care for a week due to complications from the chemo. In that time, atrophy set into her leg muscles, and she was in a
wheel chair when she got out. This is when she felt God telling her that it was time to stop the chemo. Her muscle strength never returned to her legs. She stayed alert until approximately the last two weeks of her life.

My sister called me crying toward the end because Mom had asked our step-father, Willie, how many July’s there were in a year. This was so hard to swallow since Mom was a very bright and creative woman. Ironically, it wasn’t the Cancer in her brain that
caused her cognitive levels to deplete. It was her liver. It was failing, and her ammonia levels had risen so high that she wasn’t thinking right. She was being poisoned by her own body.

I had spent the entire summer running back and forth to Michigan checking in on her. I kept getting calls saying that she wasn’t going to make it. I would rush to get there, and she’d be fighting to come back.

One time…I walked in…and she looked like she was already dead…her color was grey…and I was so scared…but as I was talking to my sister…I broke down and told her I was scared and didn’t want Mama to die. As I got the words out…Mama opened her eyes and said very clearly… “Liza…you tell her I’m not dying…I’m not going
anywhere…I’m FINE!”

Liza and I could do nothing but smile at one another and shake our heads. Such resiliency…such strength and determination…in this little woman.

In June, I got a call from my sister saying that Mama was refusing to eat or drink anything so I went there immediately. When I got there, she was very lethargic and unresponsive. I got her to sit up
in bed and eat some cheese and crackers and some orange slices. By the time I left, she was talking and seemed to be doing much better. I got on a Greyhound bus to come home immediately because my bills were piling up at home, and I needed to pay some attention to my situation there.

Within 30 minutes of walking through the door, I got a phone call from my brother. “You’ve gotta get back here. She’s in the hospital. It’s really bad this time Marie. Her liver is failing. This is it.”

This is it. Those were three words I hadn’t heard yet…but I somehow knew they were coming.

I arrived at the hospital at one in the morning. When I walked in, she was sleeping soundly in her bed. There were two beds in her room, so I lay down in the other bed and watched her sleep…and
as I did…I cried myself to sleep.

I woke up at about six that morning…there were nurses and lab techs all over the room. I sat up… ”Is she okay?” One friendly nurse turned to me and walked over and took my hand.

“You must be her baby. She’s doing okay, we’re just doing our morning routine, that’s all. Everything is normal for now.” Her voice was so friendly, and the look of compassion in her eyes was so sweet. Yet this did not stop me from wanting to scream at her and tell her to stop talking with impending death in her words.

I got up and walked over to the edge of her bed, and stroked Mom’s forehead. Her hair was gone and all she had was a little layer of peach fuzz all over, yet she was so very beautiful to me.

“Hey pretty lady…good morning…I love you!”

Her head turned very slowly to look at me, and I saw something different in her eyes. They were blank. It was as if my Mommy wasn’t even in there. “Thank you.” She turned her head to look
back at the nurse.

THANK YOU? I just told my Mama I loved her …and she said THANK YOU?

All of a sudden it hit me, and I felt like someone had just kicked me straight in my chest with a size 12 Timberland boot. She didn’t know who I was…from inside I wanted to shake her… take my hands and force her to look at me…I wanted to scream at her… “IT’S ME MAMA…I’m your BABY…” But I just stood…silent…with one tear rolling down my cheek. I felt it drip off of my chin onto my shirt.

She turned to look at me, and seemed disturbed. “Who ARE you?”

Again, the boot to the chest, and another tear began to make the slow journey down my cheek.

“It’s me Mommy. Your baby.” Still she looked at me blankly. It seemed as though she was very disturbed. It was as if her mind was battling with her spirit. Even though her mind didn’t know who I was, her spirit was reaching out to her baby girl.

Looking deep into your eyes
I see a look I absolutely despise.
This thing called Cancer has taken
you away and left you a shell of a woman.
Where is my Mommy? Where did she go?
I see the face of the woman I know...
You look like my sweet mama...
but I feel like I'm in the middle of a drama.
Why don't you know who I am? Look at me damnit.
I ball up my fist and on the window I slam it.
How can you look at me and say "Who are you?"
When I say I love you...you should say "I love you too".
Please just get that sparkle in your eye just one more time...
what this disease is doing to you is simply a crime.
Satan~ you stand accused, charged, and tried...
I pointed the finger at him and a resounding "GUILTY" I
cried.
The only One that could fix what the enemy had done...
to Father God I have got to run.
Begging Him to give you what you will need...
to look at me and see your youngest seed.
Just needing you to see that I am your youngest child...
so many different emotions battling each other within
me...running wild.
I want to hug you so bad...but don't want to bring you fear...
I just need my Mommy to hold me near.
I need to feel you rub my back and tell me it'll be okay...
I so desperately need you to see another day.
I feel God prepping me for the fact that your time on Earth is
coming to an end...
He's getting the angels ready...to come get you...they are the
ones He will send.
It's almost time Mommy. They're going to pull out that tube
so we can
take you home. "God please touch her with Your hand"...
"Make her see me as the youngest child she gave birth to...
the only One who can bring her mind back is You.
I just need her to know who I am just for one more minute...
let me see that love in her eyes that is so infinite."
The tears fall like rain as I look down at you...
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your hand reaches up...what are you trying to do?
You brush your hand across my cheek...
drying my tears is the task you seek to complete.
"My baby girl" escapes from between your dry little lips...
I feed you some water from a straw in short sips...
"Who's your baby girl" I ask you… hoping for the best...
not really meaning to put you to the test.
You look at me...and I see that the glimmer is there...
you brush from my forehead a strand of hair...
you smile a slight grin...and give me affirmation that God has
His win...
"You are my baby girl"...and the tears fall more and more...
I see the ambulance drivers come through the door.
I kiss your sweet forehead
as I stand at the head of your bed.
I know this is the last time I will see you smile on this Earth...
so very soon will come your Heavenly birth.
"I love you Mommy, they're here to take you home..." One
last kiss...
my life on this earth will be way too long with you to miss.

When my Mama left the hospital, I immediately left and went to my girl’s house. First I had to call my sister and apologize to her.
See…we had gotten into a very heated dispute because she had manipulated Willie into having Mom come to her house rather than going with the plan we already had to have her go to a very upscale
hospice house.

The reason Alan, my brother, and I wanted her to go to a hospice house is because earlier in life Mom always told us that if she ever got too sick to take care of herself, she wanted us to put her in a retirement home rather than have her at our homes
taking care of her.

What we failed to realize is that Liza had spent the last three months of Mom’s life with her. She knew exactly what Mom wanted and needed and Alan and I did not.

When Mom had her few moments of clarity, she told me that she was indeed ready to go home…TO LIZA’S HOUSE.

I felt so bad for the words that were exchanged between my sweet sister and I. She forgave me immediately.

I decided beforehand that I was going to spend my time until Mom’s life slipped away at Sue’s house because I truly did not want to sit and watch her die. I had my moment with her…I saw that gleam in her eye…and she knew who I was. THAT is what I felt as though I needed to hold tight to. I pictured death as being so ugly. It wasn’t something I wanted to witness at all. Three days passed by. I had drifted through…hour after hour…waiting to get the call that she was gone. On the third night Sue came in and informed me that I
was going out with everybody.

I didn’t really want to go…but she didn’t give me much of a choice. She felt as though she was doing the right thing by getting me out of the house, but the LAST thing I needed to do was sit up in a bar and drink. One drink led to two, two led to four,
and four led to “Damn…how many drinks DID I have?”

When the bar closed, we went to an all-night restaurant to eat. When we got seated, we started talking and joking. I heard the table next to us, and realized that the man’s voice was Dennis. Dennis was one of Sue’s “cut buddies”. They didn’t have a relationship, but they slept together…often.

I leaned forward, and whispered rather over dramatically, you know how pissy drunks do. “SUE! Look behind us…is that DENNIS?”

We were sitting in a booth, I moved my head over so Sue could see. “All I can see is the back of dude’s head…but that sure looks like Dennis’ big ass nugget.”

I sat up…and started speaking…way too loud I might add. “WELL! There’s only one way to find out.” I turned around and tapped on the dude’s shoulder. He turned around…and sure ‘nough. It was Dennis. He turned his body completely around and was damn near hanging over the partition between the two booths, forgetting all about his little friend he had sitting right next to him.

All of us talked for a few minutes before I heard the girl he was with say “Why don’t you turn around and sit your mothafuckin’ ass down…and quit talkin’ to those bitches?”

I couldn’t help but get out of control with the whole thing. No one else heard her, but me. “WOOOAH! SUE! Uh…Dennis’ little friend just made a request that he turn around and stop talkin’ to the BITCHES he’s talkin’ to. Oh… WAIT! WE’RE the bitches aren’t we?” I tend to be so annoyingly sarcastic when I’m intoxicated.

I turned around and tapped her on her shoulder. “Uh…scuse me…the bitches from booth number two would like to have a little meeting of the minds with you.”

She snapped her head around and smacked my finger from her shoulder. “Fuck you bitch.”

“Damn…is that the best you can do? Calling me a bitch? Listen…check this out…I just wanted to let you know… uh…Massengil works wonders…cuz uh…Dennis’ breath was smellin’ real foul the last
time he left your house…” How much more lame could a drunk woman be? I turned around and sat back down like I had really done something..but not until I had mumbled “Ya stankin’ ass ho”.

As I sat down, I heard two words come from this woman’s mouth that under normal circumstances would have made me laugh in her face…tell her how juvenile she is…and ask her what middle school she attended. But these weren’t normal circumstances.

I stood up and walked over to their table. “What’d you say?”

She looked up at me…and annunciated each word… “I…SAID…YOUR…MA…MA!”

I stood there for a few seconds… “That’s what I thought you said”. I went back and sat down to digest what this female had just said…ignoring all of my girls trying to talk to me.

Instead of letting her ignorance roll off of me like
water off of a duck’s feathered back…I jumped across the partition between the two booths and decided to feed this girl’s food to her by way of my hand on the back of her head shoving her face down
into her plate.

The management of the restaurant broke the fight up, and I decided I wasn’t done and took it outside. It felt good to release my frustration. I felt pieces of the old me coming back…the one who settled things physically rather than mentally...and I didn’t
like it…but yet I still kept connecting my fist to her flesh wherever I possibly could.

The police ended up coming, and by God’s grace my girls manipulated their way into being able to take me home rather than the alternative, which was me being cuffed and taken to jail. They explained to the police that I was from out of state, and let
them know the emotional and mental stress that I was under. They took me home, and I slept it off.

The next morning I woke up to my sister calling me and telling me that I needed to come and see Mom. I had a hangover and I truly wasn’t in the mood for it.

“Liza…look…I’m not coming. The minute you call and tell me it’s over…I’ll be there…but I’m not coming out there to watch her die.” I know I was bordering on disrespect with my tone…but damn…my mouth felt like a foul animal had crawled inside it and died…and my head was POUNDING.

I had been driving Liza’s vehicle since the day that I arrived back in Michigan…and she used it to manipulate me to get me out there. “Okay…well…fine…don’t come see Mama…but I need my van.
You gotta bring it to me today.”

I knew she didn’t really need it. “Fine Liza…I’ll be there as soon as I can get somebody to follow me out there to bring me back to her house.”

“You don’t have to do that, there are plenty of people here that can bring you back.”

Silence.

I sighed deeply. “Okay…I’ll be there in a while… just please have someone ready to go when I get there.”

“I will.”

We exchanged good byes…and I lay there in bed for what seemed like hours trying to convince myself to get up and get ready. When I got to her house, I sat in the driveway for about fifteen minutes. I kept telling myself how simple it was. That all I needed to do was just get out of the car and let Liza know I was there. I could do it. I could go in the house. I didn’t have to go back to the bedroom.

I went in to find all of my family from Texas sitting around the family room. Everyone stood to greet me and offer me hugs of both love and sympathy. Liza came from the backside of the house and
hugged me. I struggled to swallow my tears down, which only served to bring back my whopping headache and add to it a side of serious sore throat.

“Marie…answer one question for me, and then somebody will take you back to Sue’s house. Whenever you get upset and life is just too much for you to handle, who is the first person you go to in
order to talk about it?”

I wanted to ignore her…but she had her hands on my shoulders and was forcing me to look into her eyes. Every time I shifted my eyes to look elsewhere, she would move so that I could see
nothing but her. “I would go to Mom…okay?” I was getting a little frustrated.

“Okay…and what would Mom do Marie?”

”You said one question…that’s two.” Again…the sarcasm. I thought to myself that I really needed to get that under control.

“Answer my question.” She sounded so motherly…and in fact…for a great deal our lives, she was forced to be a mother to me.

“She would tell me to get in her bed, she would cover me up with her feather blanket and her quilt, and she would get in with me and hold me. She would stroke my hair and rub my back as she
listened.” The tears could no longer be held back…the dam had broken. “Why are you doing this Liza? Would you just let me GO?”

“No…I won’t. You NEED to do this.” She began to lead me down the hallway. I wrestled my arm away from her and turned and went into her arm. Hugging myself and sobbing, I felt her put her hand on my back to guide me out of her room and lead me down the hallway once again.

I didn’t like the way I was feeling. I could feel my mother’s spirit calling me to come in and be with her….but my mind was screaming NO…don’t go in there. Your mommy is dying in there… DON’T
GO.

We got to the doorway of the bedroom, and there she was. She was so pale, yet she looked so beautiful lying there in the bed. She looked like she was just sleeping…not like she was dying.

Standing at the doorway of the room that day...
I hated to see you lying there that way.
You looked like you were sleeping...
a true sleeping beauty...and I just stood there weeping.
I feel your spirit calling out to me...
I know by your side is where I should be.
Why can't I bring myself to just lay down by you?
Why is something that used to be so right so damned hard to
do?
I walk over to your frail dying body and deliberate...
this is a feeling I surely never could anticipate...
looking down at my Mommy who is supposed live forever...
why is holding you in my arms such a challenging endeavor?
The blankets are pulled back and I sit on the edge of the bed...
I rub what the chemotherapy has turned into just a fuzzy little
head...
No more of your beautiful salt and pepper hair...
I try to muster up my courage...I know it's got to be there.
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I lay down next to you and wrap my arm around you...
this is something I never wanted to do...
"Mommy...I miss you so much...you just can't imagine...
I'm slipping so fast...like it's a black hole I'm in...
I'm sinking in quicksand Mama...and I can't get out...
this is a pain I never wanted to even think about."
I can feel your lovely spirit reaching out to me...
I can hear your sweet voice telling me...
"It's going to be okay baby...Mommy's just fine...
you knew this all was going to happen in time.
You've got to be strong to take care of my grandbabies...
Talk to God...get on your knees...
he will give you the strength you need...
don't let Satan's work spread through your life like a weed.
He wants this to ruin each of you kids' lives...
He throws poison thoughts at your minds like knives.
I'm winning baby...don't you see?
Our God is taking this Cancer out of me.
I'm going to be whole...the sickness will be no more...
It will all be gone as I walk through Heaven's door.
I want you to rejoice and give praise when I go...
You'll be tempted to fall apart at the seams...I know...
but stand against what the Devil want you to do...
be strong...my daughter...I know you've got it in you."
I lay with you for hour upon hour...
My demeanor is no longer sour...
They come and say it will be just two or three more days...
and we all take turns...by your side each one of us lays...
It's my turn again...back by my Mommy's side...
I feel a sense of peace...but it's the beginning of an emotional
rollercoaster ride.
You're breathing has changed...what's happening to you?
"Listen for the death rattle...that's what you need to do...
when she sounds like there's marbles rolling 'round in her
chest...
you need to call us...and we'll do the rest".
This is what the hospice nurse had said earlier that day...
but they didn't think it would happen so soon...not this way.
I got up from the bed and left the room thinking that
somehow...
you would start breathing right if I couldn't hear
it..."NO...NOT NOW..."
keeps ringing through my head...
I go an lie face down in my niece's bed...
"God please...you've got to give me just a small part of the joy
she will feel...
you've got to get me through this entire nightmare of an
ordeal...
surround me with the peace she is going to experience when
she enters into Your presence...
let her happiness permeate my very essence..."
"Someone get my sister and brother", I hear my sister
desperately shout...
my insides tie in knots because I know what it's all about.
I walk across the hall and enter the room right behind my
brother...
both of us taking steps to witness the death of our sweet
mother.
We are met with you grasping for breath...
You're fighting it...waiting on us all to be there together...you
wrestle with death.
Me holding your right hand...my sister holding your left...
We all know this is something we can't stop from
happening...we just have to accept...
My brother whispering in your ear...
"It's okay Mama...we're all here....
you can go...we all love you...
and we'll miss you too."
So quick it happened... with one deep sigh...
your spirit left your body in the blink of an eye.
Just as your ascended to be with YOUR mommy and your
spirit started to fly...
We all heard a train coming down the tracks in the back of the
house, whistle blowing as it click-clacked by...
Out of the mouths of sweet little babes we hear my niece say...
"Grandma's gone...the train took her away."
What's odd is that when I hear train whistle now...
I get a warm sense of peace somehow.

Everything that day seemed to just sort of blur past me. All I knew was my Mama was gone. I left the funeral arrangements to my sister and my sister-in-law. They are planners and organizers…it’s how they cope. I just sort of blended into the background that day.

After the funeral home came to take Mama’s body, Liza gave me her keys back and I went back to Sue’s house. The next few days just drifted by in a haze. I kept telling myself I was okay, and then
within seconds I would start to cry.

The kids came from their father’s houses for the funeral. Immediately after they returned to their dad’s and I went back to Indiana.

I just wanted to be alone. I needed the rest of the kids’ summer break to get myself together and attempt to make it through this thing called grief.

The battle began on March 8th … and by June 27th it was over.