She Was Alive Two Weeks Ago

I can’t believe that it’s been two weeks already. Two weeks since she was lying in the hospital bed…unconscious…but still breathing, still warm. I could touch her just two weeks ago. I could lay my head on her chest and hear her heart beating. I could run my fingers over the soft skin of her hands. I could talk to her, and believe she was listening. She was alive two weeks ago.

When I was four years old, Mom divorced my father. From then on, it was me and Mom as a team. When I was young, we were very poor. I only know that because, now being an adult, I can look back and “see” that we were lacking quite a bit. However, when I was so young, I never once thought anything was wrong. Mom taught me to use my imagination and creativity. I could play for hours with two crayons and a paper towel tube. Mom never let on that she was stressed about money or anything else. My memories of my childhood with my mother are nothing but pure happiness.

I can’t believe that she’s not “just a phone call away” anymore. I can’t quite wrap my mind around the fact that I will never speak to her in this life again. Never. It’s such an absolute word. Never ever. I will never ever feel her arms around me. Forever. She’s gone forever. How am I supposed to get used to that? She was alive just two weeks ago.

As a teenager, I was the typical “spoiled brat”. Recently, I watched a video of me and some friends getting ready for prom. Watching myself, I wanted to kick my OWN ass. I don’t know how in the world Mom was able to stand it. When I was sixteen years old, I broke my mother’s heart. She was on her knees, arms wrapped around my legs, sobbing, literally begging me to stay. I pried her arms off of my legs and walked away from her. I walked away from her loving arms into the arms of someone who harmed me every chance he got. Two and a half years later, when I was finally done being a punching bag, I called her and sobbed and literally begged her to let me come home. She didn’t hesitate. I had the next flight home. She never once said, “I told you so”, even though she had every right to. She never said, “You made your bed…now lie in it!” even though she probably should have. She never let me know how much I destroyed her while I was gone, even though I deserved every guilt trip she could’ve thrown at me. She showed me what unconditional love truly meant.

I can’t believe she’ll never see me get married to the man I’ve loved for over a decade. I can’t believe that she won’t be there to witness the vows I’m planning to say to the man who taught me what real love, trust and respect is all about. G and I had decided to move the wedding back. We picked a date that we were “sure” she would be around to see it. She died exactly one month before we were going to tie the knot. She was going to walk me down the aisle. I can’t believe that I’ll be walking down that aisle without her. She was alive only two weeks ago.

In my mid-20’s, I was diagnosed with a rare bone disease which was incredibly painful and debilitating. By this time, Mom had already been living with cancer for a few years. I picked up and moved in with her in Mississippi. We took care of each other. I grew emotionally in leaps and bounds. I lost 90 pounds. Mom told me at least every other day how proud she was of me. As she went through her own treatment, she helped other women who were “new” to cancer. Nurses would seek her out just so they could ask her to talk to someone who was scared. Those “newbies” always had a smile back on their face by the time Mom was done talking with them. I was immensely proud of her. I probably should have told her more often how her strength amazed me. I should have told her more often how proud I felt walking beside her because I was HER daughter. I drew from her strength and her will to live no matter what her doctors told her. She gave people hope. She gave ME hope. She was my best friend. I could and did tell her every single thing about my life. I craved her approval…sometimes too much. Mom worried that I was too emotionally dependent on her. She was probably right. But, the thing is, she always GAVE me her approval. All I wanted was to make her happy. I wanted to be the reason she smiled.

I can’t believe she’ll never meet the child that I’ve desperately wanted for so long. She was always telling me how she couldn’t wait to be “Grammy”. I can’t believe I’ll never experience her talking to my tummy and feeling the baby kick. Growing up, I was never the girl who dreamed of the frilly, white wedding. I’ve wanted to be a mother for as long as I can remember. She made me want to be a mother. I can’t believe I won’t see her tears of joy while watching me get an ultrasound. I can’t believe she’ll never get the chance to spoil her grandchild rotten. She’s been gone for two weeks.

I am, however, grateful beyond measure that she is now “Grammy” in Heaven to the child I lost so many years ago.

For the past year or so, taking care of her became somewhat of a full-time job…although I never saw it like that. She constantly worried that she was becoming a “burden” to me. I did my very best to try and convince her that I never felt like she was a “burden”. Never. If anything, spending so much time with her allowed us to bond as adults…as very best friends. She literally knew every single detail of my life. Never once did she act like I was boring her when I called to tell her some random thing that had happened, or that I had seen or heard. She always sounded completely genuine when she would laugh at my not-so-funny jokes, or when she would validate me for some silly little thing. I was blessed to become her confidant as well. She knew she could call me any hour of the day or night just to talk about something that was seemingly insignificant. I knew how she felt about everything and everyone. We used to say that we had ESP…but only between the two of us. We used to say we were soul mates. I feel like she took half of my soul with her when she left. She left me with half a heart and soul just two weeks ago.

I can’t believe my soul mate is gone. I can’t bear not knowing what she’s feeling right now. I wish she could peek down and give me a glimpse of her, so that I know she’s ok. So many people say they can “feel” their loved ones. As close as we were to each other, I can’t believe I can’t feel her.  I can’t believe I won’t see her at my wedding. I can’t believe I’ll never see her holding her grandchild. I can’t believe this happened to such an amazing person.

I wish it had happened to me instead of her. Maybe then it wouldn’t hurt this bad. I’m empty. I’m broken. I can barely breathe without her here with me. I can’t believe she’s never coming back.

Thank you, Lord, for letting me have her as a mother, best friend and soul mate for 30 years. She’ll be the best angel you’ve ever seen. You see, she had plenty of practice here on earth.

I love you, Mom!

Beth DeVore Ausborn – (Born September 25, 1960 -  Died September 24, 2010)