MY LIFELINE
I stand in a room full of monitors, wires attached to her body. Oxygen keeping her breathing. She has had more strokes than I ever thought a body could withstand. She has had so many heart attacks. Her heart is weak, according to the doctors. Her brain is dead, according to the doctors. She was gone for seven minutes, flatlined, before they brought her back. I stand by her bedside and her eyes are open. I caress her hair because that's what I would do when we lay on her bed talking. A friend of the family, a doctor, comes in and tries to convince me that she is gone. He tries to convince me that her brain is dead. He tells me she would not want to live this way, hooked up to machines to keep her breathing and alive. How does he know? He didn't know her like I did. I was sure she was going to pull through, once again. I thought, she had fought all odds for us so many times. I lay my face next to hers, all along stroking her hair. She had black and silver lavishly beautiful hair. It had a wave to it that when she left it to dry by itself, you could see waves of hair in the sun.
Why are you here my best friend if you were already in rehab? Why are you here if you cheated death so many times before and returned to us? I'm sorry I didn't take time off my work and just focused on your care. I could have left my job for weeks and just sat by your side. Sure my children would have missed school. So what! So what! So what! It was a small price to pay for your life, for your presence. I wasn't there and you stopped breathing. I wasn't there and you slipped away. I should have been there mother. I should have rescued you. You slipped through my fingers and I will never forgive myself. I will always regret that I was not by your side.
It was the day after her seven minute flat line. They brought her back from death because she wanted to be brought back. She was a fighter, my mother. She raised eight children, my mother. My mother, I remember staring in her eyes and saying to her, "If you can still hear me blink your eyes." She started crying, tears rolling down her cheeks. Even after seven minutes she could still hear me. Everyone said this wasn't a life she would have wanted to live, hooked up to all these machines. I went home that night heavy-hearted because I knew tomorrow was her last day. I went home with my little ones, put them to bed and cried to the early hours of the morning. I finally fell asleep some time before light.
The hour was drawing near. Ten p.m. if my memory serves me right. At that wicked hour we siblings would gather and say goodbye that one last time. I had already decided that this was not her day to go. I would tell the doctors that I disagreed and they would keep her alive. I kept thinking of her tears in my mind. She didn't want to die. I was on my way to the hospital when my husband called and said his truck broke down, the kids with him. My heart was racing. I had to be there to keep my mother from dying. I received a call saying they could no longer wait for me. I acquiesced. I received a call a few minutes later telling me she was gone. There was more said, but all I could hear was that she was gone. My sweet sweet gladiator was gone. She had gone to meet her maker. For the first time in my life I felt completely alone. Not the children, not my husband could fill that void. I drove us home as I quietly cried. The minute we got home I fell to my knees and I howled, the heart-wrenching pain was unbareable. I howled and howled until I could howl no more. My mother, my life source, was gone. The love of my life was no more.
I stand in a room full of monitors, wires attached to her body. Oxygen keeping her breathing. She has had more strokes than I ever thought a body could withstand. She has had so many heart attacks. Her heart is weak, according to the doctors. Her brain is dead, according to the doctors. She was gone for seven minutes, flatlined, before they brought her back. I stand by her bedside and her eyes are open. I caress her hair because that's what I would do when we lay on her bed talking. A friend of the family, a doctor, comes in and tries to convince me that she is gone. He tries to convince me that her brain is dead. He tells me she would not want to live this way, hooked up to machines to keep her breathing and alive. How does he know? He didn't know her like I did. I was sure she was going to pull through, once again. I thought, she had fought all odds for us so many times. I lay my face next to hers, all along stroking her hair. She had black and silver lavishly beautiful hair. It had a wave to it that when she left it to dry by itself, you could see waves of hair in the sun.
Why are you here my best friend if you were already in rehab? Why are you here if you cheated death so many times before and returned to us? I'm sorry I didn't take time off my work and just focused on your care. I could have left my job for weeks and just sat by your side. Sure my children would have missed school. So what! So what! So what! It was a small price to pay for your life, for your presence. I wasn't there and you stopped breathing. I wasn't there and you slipped away. I should have been there mother. I should have rescued you. You slipped through my fingers and I will never forgive myself. I will always regret that I was not by your side.
It was the day after her seven minute flat line. They brought her back from death because she wanted to be brought back. She was a fighter, my mother. She raised eight children, my mother. My mother, I remember staring in her eyes and saying to her, "If you can still hear me blink your eyes." She started crying, tears rolling down her cheeks. Even after seven minutes she could still hear me. Everyone said this wasn't a life she would have wanted to live, hooked up to all these machines. I went home that night heavy-hearted because I knew tomorrow was her last day. I went home with my little ones, put them to bed and cried to the early hours of the morning. I finally fell asleep some time before light.
The hour was drawing near. Ten p.m. if my memory serves me right. At that wicked hour we siblings would gather and say goodbye that one last time. I had already decided that this was not her day to go. I would tell the doctors that I disagreed and they would keep her alive. I kept thinking of her tears in my mind. She didn't want to die. I was on my way to the hospital when my husband called and said his truck broke down, the kids with him. My heart was racing. I had to be there to keep my mother from dying. I received a call saying they could no longer wait for me. I acquiesced. I received a call a few minutes later telling me she was gone. There was more said, but all I could hear was that she was gone. My sweet sweet gladiator was gone. She had gone to meet her maker. For the first time in my life I felt completely alone. Not the children, not my husband could fill that void. I drove us home as I quietly cried. The minute we got home I fell to my knees and I howled, the heart-wrenching pain was unbareable. I howled and howled until I could howl no more. My mother, my life source, was gone. The love of my life was no more.
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