I like to think I’m fairly forgiving of myself. If I weren’t I’d be more concerned about how others perceive me. I really don’t care about things like that, as long as I can sleep at night, it doesn’t matter. So, this one is a little hard.
If I’m honest, there’s not many things I’d change that I’ve done in my life. I may change how I handled a situation, or in hindsight my reaction to someone or something, but overall there’s only one thing I feel totally guilty about. It’s a little odd though, because even though I feel guilty, I can rationalize it all day long.
Side note: I just realized this is my second mention of this (in 3 posts) since I started this 30 day thing…which is a huge statement to myself how much I really dwell on it, and how much it has affected my life.
The day my mom died I woke up with a sore throat, cold, fever. I still went to work, and as I’ve stated before just kept on trucking, because she was way sicker than I was. It was very normal for me to just keep on going even before she was in the hospital. I’d reserve my sick days for the kids to be out of school. By the time I left work at 3:30 and headed down to the hospital I was losing my voice, and had to wear a mask to go visit her so I didn’t get her sick(er). Around 6-7 that night, we had spoken with her doctors, and had decided that she had been through enough, at her request all outside testing, poking, prodding, guessing was done. She was only to be made comfortable, with medicine, and allowed to rest peacefully without being constantly bugged. My sister left to get a shower and clean up since I was feeling ill, she decided to stay with mom through the night, which was the plan anyways since she was there from out of town. Around 9 pm Ursula left, and I was hanging with mom, she was watching tv off and on, and telling me to eat cough drops in between her dozing off and me coughing and waking her up. At 10 pm, she looked at me and said “Pam and Terry (longtime friends) are going to come up since they are in town for their anniversary, they’ll be here any minute, you go home and get some rest.” I argued with her, that I could wait until they got there, or until Ursula got back, which was supposed to be any moment now. I steadily argued and told her I’d be fine, 1 hour wasn’t going to hurt…then I lost my voice completely. She lifted her head up and said “go home.” So I did. She promised me she would be fine. She lied.
I can’t at all blame her. It’s not like it was new information that she was that bad off. To explain how we all dealt with it, we had many conversations, my sister, myself and mom, that there was to be no “visiting us from beyond” or haunting us or anything of the like. She was informed that neither one of us wished to see her again once she was gone. We also had a VERY stern talk with her that she was not allowed to die on my daughter’s birthday…my mom’s mom died the day after my birthday. She assured us she would do no such thing. That night at around midnight, my sister was with my mother, and things started to go downhill. I was at home asleep, as ordered, and around 2 am the phone rang. I didn’t even answer it, I knew. She did it…she died without me there, and on J’s birthday. She was right “you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”
So…my something is I have to forgive myself for not being there, for myself, for my mom, and for my sister, who we both promised we wouldn’t leave the other there to deal with her actual passing alone. I should have. I was there every day before that day. I had made it without sleep, or little sleep, without food, or hospital food, bored, concerned, all of it. But sick I couldn’t do. I have thought that maybe God knew I couldn’t handle it, or that I’d handle it better if I weren’t there. I don’t even know that I’ve handled it after this long. In the end, I listened to my mom…who was still being a mom (from her hospital bed) and telling me what to do and to take care of myself, even at the end of her life.