Me, Mom, Aaron
On this 12th day of Cheshvan marks my mother’s yahrzeit. It’s difficult to fathom that’s it’s been a year since she passed. Sometimes it seems like I was just talking to her on the phone the other day, but most of the time it feels like an eternity. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t think of her. So many things I would have liked to ask her, from the smallest things, like where to find something obscure and specific in a grocery store (she always knew even better than the staff at the store) to random medical questions (yep, she was that good). I’m quite sure I could write a book filled only with the questions I would have normally asked her over the past year. In addition, I could easily write ten more volumes of new questions I want to know now that she’s gone.
The loss of my mother has really affected me. I’ve lost 25 lbs in the last year and although it’s nice to see my clearly defined 6-pack (vs the 4-pack + a small keg it was before), I know it’s not healthy. I’ve learned to cry again (maybe too much). I think I’ve cried more in the last year than I have in the previous 20 years. I’ve also learned to appreciate the details and express my feelings as such, since I know first hand you can lose anything in the blink of an eye.
I know most people have no idea what I’m feeling, even they think they do, unless they’ve experienced something similar. It’s sad that it took such a great loss to learn and realize everything that I have in the past year.
The last time I saw my mom conscious was September 23, 2007 when I was home for my 10-year high school reunion. The last time I heard my mom’s voice was October 21, 2007, but it was overheard when I was talking with my brother. The last time I actually spoke to her was a few days before that. I didn’t even get a chance to give her her birthday gift, which was a new iPod loaded with all her favorite music so she could listen to it while she was in the hospital. The last time I saw my mom alive was October 24, 2007, and that image is forever burned in my mind. I wish it wasn’t, as having seen her like that absolutely killed me. The last time I saw my mom was on that same day in the evening after she had passed. No words can explain what it’s like to see your mother’s dead body.
It’s very easy to blame the hospital for her loss, as they gave her incorrect medication for a headache that adversly reacted with some of the other medication she was taking causing an annurism in her brain. Leukemia unfortunately inflicted many health problems upon her, resulting in having to take many different medications. At least once before my mom had corrected the Dr about a conflicting medication he prescribed her because she thoroughly researched every medication and treatment she was or was about to receive and often knew more about them than the doctors themselves. It just goes to show that just because a Dr has a framed piece of paper on his/her wall, doesn’t mean shit and that doing your own research can pay off greatly.
Having just re-read what I wrote, I realize my thought process is all over the place, so I’m just gonna stop writing since I know I could keep rambling on about so many things ’til the end of time.
I miss my mom dearly. She was by far the best mom in the world. I’m sure everyone else has their own arguments as to why their mom is the best in the world. But that doesn’t matter, what matters is that you never forget what makes your mom so great. I love you mom. Your time came too soon…