the four of us

Just like that...no fanfare, no dramatic scene, no grand finale. Honestly, it seems like no one noticed but us. For two days, we'd sat by her hospital bed. She was non-responsive, struggling for every breath...twisted, wilted, fighting. There was nothing I could do - that we could do - to help her on her way.

It was like some cosmic comedy. In the end, it was the four of us together again. Mom in the hospital bed - my sister, father and I sat with her the last two days she was alive. Over the past three decades, we'd all fought like cats and dogs. A divorce, arguments, courtrooms and drama. We'd all drug each others' names through the mud more than once. We'd all said things we regretted. Things we damn sure meant when we said them. But who knows...maybe God knew the truth. In my mind, all four us are difficult to deal with. We're all headstrong, stubborn people. And I'd imagine many people shake their heads and mumble under their breath when they see us coming.

But for her last two days on earth, we were there together, in the small room remembering, talking, worrying, thinking, crying, joking. I'm sure some of mom's friends would argue and second guess. "Why is he here?!? That's the last thing she would want." Not for the last time, I would think, "I don't give a shit what they think." When it came down to it, regardless of the water under the bridge, it was the three of us there when she needed us. We did everything we could to protect her, follow her wishes, spend time with her and make her more comfortable. We'd all failed each other more than once, but when one of us was fading, the three of us did what we could.

Here's what I want people to know about my mother. She loved children, she was a caring grandmother, she was generous to a fault, she was terrified of being alone and even at her worst I think she always meant the best.

I'm not one for lying. We'd had a rough few years. I made decisions that I had to make to protect myself, my family and our future. But I never stopped caring about my mom. I worried about her every day. And as I dodged phone calls, cursed, screamed, yelled and did everything I could to avoid the situation, I knew it would come to this. I would be left with these decisions, I would regret them, I would beat myself up over them. Sure, I would remember WHY I made the choices I made, but it wouldn't help much when I thought about it all.

On some level I knew her health was deteriorating, and it scared me to death. I was a momma's boy. I am a momma's boy. Sounds funny after years of arguing and yelling, but I know no one will ever care for me like she did. I feel more alone than I have in years. I pushed her away for five years, now I'd give anything to tell her I cared. I loved her. It killed me to see her sad and alone.

We failed her. I failed her. Many people have told me I didn't. But words can't change it. The world will keep spinning, and I'll try to do better. But in the end, I'll never understand this one. There's no happy ending here...no moral at the end of the story. Time wrecks bodies, destroys lives, takes people away, and we're left wondering why. If you've spent happy, relaxing time with your grandparents and parents, thank God for that. It is a blessing. For the rest of us, I guess, just know that someone else has been there too.