10 days ago, my mom passed away after a very long battle with ovarian cancer. I published a post the same day — “My Mom’s Suffering Is Over: Reflecting On The Best Of Times, Worst Of Times” — which I actually started writing while sitting next to her in her hospice bed, as she was having her last deep sleep, prior to finally passing and being out of pain (for me, writing in these kinds of situations can be really cathartic… I didn’t know what else to do with myself, after holding her hand for hours).
While this post will hopefully not be as emotional as the last one (though my eyes are already a little wet, ugh), I did want to take a moment to reflect on the past 10 days, which frankly just feel like a complete blur. Most importantly, I want to thank you all, and I’m not sure words can do justice to how grateful I am.
In this post:
After my mom passed, those of us who were there with her went to her home (in St. Petersburg), and it was just impossible. I couldn’t stay there, because of course everything reminded me of her, and I felt like I couldn’t breath. So with the ability to handle everything remotely, I went back to my home in Miami, to be with Ford and our young kids, since they provide a great distraction and happiness.
But that wasn’t necessarily easier. When she was still alive, I’d send my mom pictures of our kids multiple times every single day. It brought her so much joy to see them. So after being reunited with our kids after they woke up and giving them an extra tight hug, I went to take a picture of them to send to me mom, only to realize… that’s not a thing I can do anymore.
Then we had breakfast. Our older son, Miles, likes a certain type of yogurt, which was always my mom’s favorite. It’s how he got into it. So every morning he tells me “papa, I’d like baba yogurt” (“baba” is what he called her). The way he refers to it now takes on even more meaning than it did before.
Then that night, I did the typical nighttime routine with Miles, which involves him picking out the books he wants to read from his bookshelf, and then we read them together. Usually he picks out something lighthearted, along the lines of “Brown Bear,” but that night he picked out a book I had never read to him before.
It was called “Love You Forever” (actually a book from when Ford was a toddler), and it’s basically about how life progresses. It’s about how the mother cares for her son, and then eventually the son cares for his mother. Of all nights, this is the one where he picked this book to read? Reading that without crying was not easy, I’ll tell you, but it almost felt like a sign from the universe.
In many ways, beyond the first 48 hours, it actually got a little “easier” emotionally. I was able to stay distracted making arrangements for my mom’s memorial, taking care of all the paperwork, etc. After all, there’s a lot to do.
A great solo travel tip spotted this week on One Mile at a Time.
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