A consequence of life is the existence of its counterpart: death.

Yesterday my mom passed away.

As I've posted before, she's been in and out of the hospital more times than I can count over the years due to her long struggle with pain-inducing autoimmune issues (fibro, rheumatoid, etc.). This past year her gall bladder made that worse with many gall stones. A week ago bacterial infection got out of control and into her blood, and now she's gone.

She went peacefully, with me and my sister standing over her. My Dad - who has been her absolute hero in caring for her all these years - couldn't bear to watch once the decision was made that the doctors had done all they could and it was time. He was home with their puppy, able to grieve in private, and last night the three of us went to dinner and all ordered her favorite Italian dish in her memory.

I debated posting anything this morning, but as I doubt any newspaper is going to publish an obituary I decided to at least write something. Because she was my Mom - she was there whenever I needed, with an open heart always wanting to show love and compassion. She had her emotional issues (who doesn't?) but her heart was golden. From what I've heard from her aide (who helped Dad care for her for the past eight years), she was ready to go - she was tired of the pain, and tired of worrying about the toll it all was taking on Dad. Over the past couple weeks she apparently had expressed such to my sister as well. We all agree that she has surprised us over the past twenty years that she lived as long as she did (she was 75), especially considering how many close calls she'd had where a few minutes difference would have changed the outcome.

My wife and I were fortunate enough to be able to have lunch with them a few weeks ago after having stayed away during the summer due to the swell of Covid. We knew if she caught that she wouldn't make it. She rallied that day to join us at the dining table for the entire meal (and dessert!), and it was a lovely meal which we will always treasure.

Before her illnesses reduced her ability to engage in the activities she most enjoyed, she had loved to go camping (she co-led my sister's Girl Scout troupe with her best friend whose daughter was also in the troupe), she was a CPR/Basic-Aid-Training instructor, and she loved to play the Celtic harp for many years even after she was no longer able to play her first beloved instrument: the violin. She loved music.

And she was my Mom.

My parents were married for 53 years, having met on a blind date in San Francisco set up by mutual friends. They were married within the year, as it was indeed a love-at-first-sight romance. They've had a couple rough patches over the years (again, who doesn't?) but as they well and truly loved each other they made it through. When it came to us kids, she was a fierce protective bear - willing and able to stand toe-to-toe with my Dad (who is an especially strong-willed individual himself) when it was needed.

We're all going to miss her, but we take comfort in knowing the pain is over and that her spirit can now fly free. Godspeed, Mom. We love you.

I think that's all I can type through these tears. Thanks for reading.

- Erisian <3