She's Gone

My mother passed away Monday, November 1, 2010 at 6:00 pm.


I had flown in on October 20th because she had been hospitalized from a breathing incident she had the day before. She was released the day I flew in and later the same day, she received a hospital bed and other equipment to her house from Hospice.

Watching her struggle during this time was the most painful experience I have ever had. I have never felt so helpless in my entire life. My gosh, she had such fight in her but there was also another side of her that didn’t want to fight anymore. She was so tired.

The last three days of her life, she had taken such a drastic turn for the worse. I slept with one eye open on her bedroom floor and then, her first which was also her last night at a hospice hospital. She kept wanting to get up and go somewhere but her poor legs could not have taken her anywhere. I had to get up all night long and remind her that she needed to let her weak legs rest and that we’ll talk and watch the news in the morning.

The night before she passed away at the hospice hospital, I received a not-so-lovely email that I won’t go into. I was on the edge of my mother’s life. When I read it, I felt my face grow hot… then deep tingling in my fingers and then they went numb, contorted and froze until I could calm down. The nurse said I had hyperventilated. Never heard of that happening before but I guess stress can do a lot of things. Unfortunately, things had happened so quickly over those past few days that I was only focused on doing what my mother needed. I couldn’t leave her for a minute because she would pull off her oxygen or try to walk somewhere and surely fall. My mother needed things from me that I never thought would happen until much later in life. She had only recently turned 65. It was not supposed to be this way yet.

Earlier in the day that my mother died, her nurse came in to talk to me in her room. She told me that she believes my mother can hear her so she is going to tell me things she would also like my mother to know. The nurse explained some medical things and then told me the following: “Since you are here all day, you need to know that most patients will wait until their loved one(s) have left their room before they pass. It happens more often than not. A family will tell the patient that they are stepping out for a 30 minute lunch… but when they come back, that person will have died. You need to go for walks”.

A little later the same day, a hospice nurse (Marie, who had spent 3 hours with us the day before on a Sunday) dropped by her room. She went up to her, wiped some hair from her forehead and told her “it’s OK to go. Go into the spirit world. God bless you”. When Marie left, I kissed my mother’s hand and told her the same thing… “it’s OK to go”. As my mother was a fairly non-religious person, I told her… “be with Grandma and be with your brother. You will see the face of God and you will love Him as much as He loves you”.

I then went into the Sanctuary to talk to my husband and children on the phone. When I came back into my mother’s room, I felt “stillness”. It could actually be felt. I stood there and watched her… just stillness. I went over and kissed her hand again, told her I loved her and to have peace. No more fighting to breathe, no more struggling to walk, no more pain and no more endless nights. Just stillness and peace.

This blog was supposed to be about my mother’s experience with an alternative to American cancer treatment and those results. It now ends up being a public goodbye. She was concerned about the money she spent in Korea ($100,000 is not cheap) but as they say, “you can’t take it with you” and it did give us those four weeks of time together and that is priceless. My mind, heart and emotion will need to take me back before she became sick and remember so much good that enveloped her. She was a good person in every sense of the word. Kind to everyone and never judged. Cancer did not and does not define her.

Just a few days before I flew to be with her, we spoke on the phone. She told me how obvious it was that I loved her. I promised her that it would never be even a fraction less than obvious.

I wrote this poem years ago for an extraordinary woman, my mother, from a daughter that loves her.

“It’s my first Mother’s Day… as a Mom, that is
And I can’t help but recall when I was a kid.
As I sift back through those memories,
I’m so amazed and can hardly believe…

All that you did and all that you gave
Where do I begin? What do I say?
You are more to me than what you can see.
You are strength, love and sincerity.


There was only one person who could end a nightmare.
One person who knew no monsters were there.
Pennies on train tracks and making a wish,
Horses and sailing and hours of “Go Fish”.


“Rise and shine, Miss America”… do you remember?
Each morning you’d say this… it seems like forever.
Walking home from school, I got lost my first day
There you were around the corner and I saw your face.


You taught me to fly when I didn’t have wings.
I traveled to places I might never have seen.
If you hadn’t given me the courage to venture beyond,
Always knowing you’d catch me if something went wrong.


I wish…


You knew how much you’ve really given
And how much you’ve made me believe in
Pennies on train tracks and making a wish,
As I hold up my daughter and pass down your kiss”.









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