My mother Nancy passed away at 10:36 pm last night. I’m a jumble of emotions right now–devastated that I’ll never again hear her voice, so happy she’s out of pain, feeling guilty that I didn’t spent every possible second with her following the diagnosis, relieved that I spent what precious time I did talking to her and appreciating her–but I am mostly just numb. My little brother was not in the room, so it was left for me to go back to the apartment while the other family remained with her body; I then told my 19 year old brother that his mother was gone. Most of the tears I have already shed are for P., too young to have his mother taken from him, and for my mother Nancy herself, only 55 when she went, and with too many wonderful possibilities ahead of her.
In a strange way, I feel that everything that has happened to me in my life has led to this moment: toughening me in some ways, softening me in others, but mostly preparing me for the realization that life will surprise you, offering experiences both beautiful and terrible, though equally illuminating and important. I’m trying to just accept the lessons and ride the wave of the unknown. We’ve just arrived to Dallas, and her funeral is tomorrow. Luckily, the mood of the family (aside from one very weepy mother-in-law; my grandmother) is joyous and celebratory. All things considered, Nancy went in a good way, and we love her like crazy.