Where You Are
Hey mom, it’s me.
Man, it’s been a week. I feel so lost and I am 100% positive that raw grief has yet to come. I feel a lot of things – sad, angry, spiteful, and then sad again – but I still don’t think it has truly hit me yet that you are gone.
I keep waiting for a sign, I begged you to give me one before you said goodbye, but I still haven’t felt you.
I’ve texted your phone a few times, hoping you would answer. And then I realized, duh! Mom is like the worst texter in history. So, I sent you an email too, just in case. You never replied…
I realized on my drive back to Indiana on Tuesday (which involved a lot of tears and a lot of country music) that there was something I never got the chance to ask you about…
Something I have only told a few other people.
It happened the Saturday before you passed. You probably don’t remember much about that day thanks to the heavy flow of narcotics and your low oxygen levels, but you were just not yourself. The only word I can use to describe you that day is manic. You were upset, disoriented, confused and very fidgety. I remember Saturday evening you were just running around the house, attempting to fold laundry and wash the floor while your oxygen levels dropped and you struggled to breathe. Every time we tried to calm you down you just got more upset until finally I convinced you to have a slumber party with me in the living room. We threw down pillows and blankets and we laid down and you instantly fell asleep.
It was the calmest I had seen you sleep in days. You looked so peaceful as I creepily stared at you – memorizing every feature of your face and crying knowing I didn’t have much more time with you.
And then, the most amazing thing happened. In the midst of your peaceful sleep, you smiled so big it took up your entire face. And then, clear as day, you whispered “wowww.” Not like a WOW! Holy smokes! But a mesmerized wowwww - like you were seeing something truly beautiful.
I really hope you were. I wish I could have had a glimpse into whatever magnificence you saw that night.
I never got the chance to ask you.
Aunt Patty was one of the few people I told that story too. Which is ironic – and I am going to tell you why now.
Patty (Tobin) has a friend named Patty Jackson (duh you know that, I am just explaining it for everyone else) – and Patty Jackson has a sister who has a friend (confusing I know) named “Malph” who is battling the end stages of ALS.
On November 21, 2018, Patty Jackson sent Patty Tobin an email, which she never apparently got around to reading until February 15, 2019… 5 days after you died.
The fact that the email was sent is not of importance. What IS important, however, is the context of the email – which included “Malphs” personal Caring Bridge blog entry about his perspective and thoughts on “The End.”
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Some time ago I woke up in the middle of the night, very much at peace, after having a very vivid dream. A feeling of euphoria and excitement washed over me and I frantically started recording everything, not wanting to fall back to sleep and forget my profound nocturnal experience. What follows is my memory of that night.
Every worry or concern you ever had goes away; as does every craving or desire. The entirety of freedom and feeling of being tether-less is the most beautiful feeling in the world. There’s no sorrow, pain or guilt or frustration or need.
There is only a oneness, a lovely implosion in one’s mind and you go to a white place where nothing matters and everything is peaceful. You’re aware of your inability to function in this world but excepting of the transition is happening and it feels like an uncontrollable metamorphosis taking place, but the word euphoric doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling. You lose all sense of time and space and everything becomes meaningless yet full of meaning. Time and space disappears, you don’t know whether it’s yesterday today or tomorrow – it could be any or all of those things as you move forward to a knowing place of enlightenment.
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When Aunt Patty sent me this email I couldn’t stop crying. I cried big bulbous tears and my heart ached for you. Is this what you experienced that night – your last night on earth? Was it so beautiful that, for just that moment, you forgot about all your pain and suffering?
I hope you are happy up there and are finally at peace. I hope it’s as beautiful as it sounded in your dream, and I hope you felt confident leaving us knowing we would hurt, but we would survive.
I wish I could call you on my way home tonight and have you tell me every single detail. I know I can’t, but I just hope that whatever that “wow” was for, that you are experiencing it every moment of every day.
Miss you more.
XO
