Stage 1…Denial

 I am not sure I ever denied the fact that my daughter had died, but I did deny that she was going to die.  I felt like I had forever but those 3 years flew by.  But I spent 3 years with more hope than anyone,…which probably contributed to being in some kind of denial that the day would ever come…because I didn’t want her to die.  I always spent a lot of time with her,  I seen her daily and spoke to her and texted her 100 times a day…and when she was really sick I was taking care of two households.  She had moved into her own apartment for the first time in her life.  She was so proud,  We did a ton of DIY’s together to decorate it.  I remember wondering every time I left her apartment or if I was in there when she was in the hospital if she would return.  It made me sick to think about but that was my reality.  

At the same time my son was in full blown addiction so most days I had no idea who I would bury first …or if I would lose both of my oldest children.  I carried Narcan in my purse and at any moment either might have needed it.  They were the two closest in age and grew up playing and all their firsts together…he was devastated and couldn’t face seeing her die. But she desperately tried to maintain a relationship with him on some level.  She was the mother child to her younger 3 siblings. 

The fact is we are all dying …but my daughter was sick and dying.   You would have never known it.  Up until the last month she never looked sick…not after major surgeries of a colonectomy and ileostomy, years of chemotherapy, a round of radiation and those god awful NG tubes!  If you have never seen anyone get one of these….has given me PTSD just seeing her crying as they are trying to shove the tube down her nose while she is drinking water out of a straw.  Just writing about it gives me anxiety.   And though I knew the pain she endured, the outside world was oblivious because she looked healthy.  

But the night before she died I knew it was coming.  We had had a few close calls previous but she had been in the hospital the month before and was put on hospice.  So since my moms house was sitting empty (she was in assisted living) we took her and her son there to stay.  It was the place I brought her home from the hospital to and the place she knew as home.  But that night was different, she had slept all day after a very active day previous.  I had gotten hospice to put a hospital bed in my brothers old bedroom.  She was not having it.  She wouldn’t sleep there and I understood why.  So she slept on the couch and I slept on the floor.  That last day I couldn’t get her up from the couch.  I had tried to give her some orange juice and she threw it up and then she peed her pants so I had to get her cleaned up and moved.  I tried…she couldn’t help me and I couldn’t do it.  I called hospice and they had someone come help move the bed to the living room and get her in it.  They also put her on a morphine pump and at that point her fate was sealed.  

My husband came by with out so and they stayed the night there.  I called my best friend and hers and they both came by to see her.  It was then she would call my name Moooooom randomly to make sure I was there and I assured her she was not alone.  After everyone had left and everyone else went to sleep….I laid beside her and held her hand prayed and played her music.  I told her how much I love her and always will, it wasn’t good bye but see you later.  I also let her know her grandpa, my dad would be there to meet her so she wouldn’t be scared. Exhausted…physically and mentally,  I fell asleep.

When I awoke there was a commotion of whispers.  I knew then she had passed.  I jumped up…her eyes were wide open. I felt for a pulse and closed her beautiful eyes.  It was March 21, 2020, just as covid hit and quarantine was going into effect. 

What I could not deny is that I would never be the same.  In one moment it changed my whole life!