Those Last Few Days...

I lost my mother on Wednesday 7 September 2005. A lot happened in the last two years of her life but the events of that final week are going to be forever engraved in my mind. I watched her stop fighting and let go of her life breath by breath. I really hope I am now strong enough to write this without breaking down. God give me strength.

My mother had always been strong throughout her sickness. She was so hard-headed she wouldn’t let anything get her down. She still tried her best to talk and laugh as if all was well though she clearly knew it wasn’t. She would get out of bed and clean up around the house on the good days and on the really good ones she would take a walk in the neighbourhood. The out of the blue she just went cold. It was as if a dark cloud was constantly hovering over her. She withdrew into herself and her condition stated to deteriorate. She stopped talking except to make simple requests like when she was hungry and when she needed help going to the loo. She would stare blankly at her visitors and would let them talk about her for hours on end as if she were not there. I took on the task of bathing and feeding her but it was not easy as I had to go to school during the day leaving her alone. One of her aunts came to see her and before she left she asked for a pair scissors and cut off my mother’s hair. I didn't question her I just assumed it was to make it more manageable. I discovered later on that in our culture when elders see that someone’s life is nearing its end they remove the hair on their head. Her little sister came by soon after and she threw such a fit over the cut hair and she decided to take mom into her care. As they drove away I felt some sort of relief because truth be told I wasn’t managing. I was only eighteen and my final exams were just but a month away.

My little brother and I only managed to go and see her on Sunday because we had school all week. I hate to say this but the woman I saw then looked nothing the mom I had known and loved all my life. She was but a shell of her former self. I could see the tears welling up in her  eyes when we entered the room but she would not let them fall. She stared at us and said nothing. We hugged and kissed her- No response. She was as cold as can be. I asked all the right questions how was she feeling? Was she comfortable? Was she eating well? She said nothing... I could see it in her eyes that she so desperately wanted to say something – especially to my brother. But she didn’t. She knew she would weep and she couldn’t have that. (Stubborn to the very end). I had so many questions to ask her, real questions not just small talk. But how could I when I knew she wouldn’t answer. We sat there in silence till the tension was too much to bear. I went out of the room in search of Aunty. I mom’s cheek was really swollen and I was concerned. She said she had noticed too but she couldn’t figure out what was causing it. we made small talk for a while then I decided to go back home. We said our goodbyes as cheerfully as we could. Still not a word came out of her.

On Monday I went to school with a heavy heart. I had so many unanswered questions. And the only person who could answer them wouldn’t speak to me. I got home made supper and tried my best to act like all was well. Tuesday went by without much drama until later on.We turned in early and just before midnight there was a knock at the door. It was my uncle, her younger brother. He was in such a hurry and I could see there was a hint of panic on his face. He needed Mom’s I.D and medical aid cards. She had become critical and had to be rushed to hospital. Aunty was taking her and he would meet them there. I wanted to go too but he wouldn’t let me, he said to go to school as usual in the morning and that he was sure she would be fine. I did as I was told. Wednesday  was long and unbearable. I had not heard anything and I couldn’t concentrate in class. At around eleven I got a strange feeling. A sudden emptiness that I couldn’t explain. I started scribbling on a piece of paper (I write poems when I’m upset). Somehow I knew she was gone I had written about how much I would miss her smile and her laughter. I wish I had kept it but at the time I had other things on my mind. I tried to get a pass at lunch and when that didn’t work I snuck out.

We didn’t have a phone at my house so I went to my uncles and called him at work. He gave me the name of the hospital and the ward she was in. I went home to change and make supper for my brother then I left for the hospital. I didn’t have much money so I had to walk from town to the hospital and that took a while. When I got there my heart was pounding and as soon as I saw uncle and his wife standing at the door my worst fears were confirmed. They told me that the doctor was attending to her and we had to wait a while but I didn’t believe it. They took me to the car and they told me she was gone. I knew already but to hear those words was just too much. They explained to me that she had taken her last breath sometime in the morning. The doctor had told them that he had found a cavity in her swollen cheek. In it was all the medication she was supposed to be taking over the past few weeks. She was stashing them there instead of swallowing. She had stopped living intentionally; I suppose she was tired of fighting a battle with no end in sight. I couldn’t speak, neither could I cry nor do anything. All of a sudden the car became too small. I had to get out. My thoughts rushed to my brother- her baby. She was the only parent he had ever really known. Dad had died when he was only 5. Now only two years later how was I going to tell him his mommy was gone too?

As we drove home I tried my best to compose myself. I had to be strong....I had people who needed me to be strong. My brothers needed to see me with my wits about me. And I had a funeral to arrange.  That’s what I thought anyway. When we got there I asked for my brother to be taken to my uncle’s house. I couldn’t face him. I couldn’t tell him. There were light bulbs that needed replacing and the neighbours needed to be told. People needed to be called. So much had to be done.

I don’t remember sitting down or resting not even for a second.  I was up and about the whole night. I thought if I kept myself busy I could shut out the reality and numb the pain. I didn’t want to feel the loss. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I didn’t want to deal with it.