It has happened

I got the call from Christopher this morning, just after 10:00: Mom passed away at 3:00 in the morning. He apologized for not calling sooner. I guess the hospital called Bill direct in the middle of the night and Bill chose not to wake him. It was about a two minute phone call. There wasn't a lot to say. I did ask how he was doing, and he basically said it still hasn't hit him. He hasn't cried or anything since all this started, having to focus so much on taking care of Bill. I mentioned that I was feeling anxious. I could feel my heart rate increasing. I said we would no doubt be in touch soon enough about whatever happens next. We said "I love you" to each other and got off the phone. For a minute, I sat there, thinking it was curious that I didn't seem to be truly hit by it yet either, and wondering when I would be. Well, it didn't take long: seconds after having that thought, it hit me, and I bawled for about a minute. I haven't done a lot of weeping so far, but I have had moments here and there when tears come suddenly. Mom never liked that I wore eye makeup. I hope she's amused by how many times I've looked like Alice Cooper today. Shelley had messaged me this yesterday: I just visited your mom. I chatted away about just stuff. She seems peaceful. Her breathing is a little labored, but strong and regular. The staff are amazing!! She's in good hands. She added that she was going to visit family further south in Lewiston but was staying in the area until Thursday and would be staying in touch with Bill and Christopher. This morning I messaged her that her description of visiting Mom yesterday was the perfect way to imagine her at the end, and it was more of a gift than she may ever know. I wasn't sure when it would be appropriate to share the news on social media, and at first I was just going to wait until my work day ended, so I could just take in the inevitable outpouring of sympathy through the evening. I did email Uncle David—Mom's brother—and Marianne almost immediately, at 10:19. I looked it up and that was 3:49 a.m. their time, so it getting out on Facebook before they saw the email was inevitable. And, as I was eating lunch I saw that Christopher shared the news at 12:03, and Becca actually beat him to it by three minutes, so I went ahead and shared my own post. I already had a draft I wrote up the day it was official Mom would be taken off life support. I edited it slightly, and then posted to Instagram, Twitter and Facebook.

View this post on Instagram

And then in an instant, the world, the universe, is a different place, altered forever. My relationship with my mother evolved over the years from great to bad to cautious to reversed, but even in the face of tragic ends, my brain defaults to remembering the good times, of which there were plenty. My heart aches today. Side note: I have thought a lot over the past week about how easily Mom could have died when she had her first stroke in 2014. These past six years were a gift. Wendy Jean "Jeanni" Rogers, beloved wife and loved mother, sister, grandmother: 1952-2020

A post shared by Matthew McQuilkin (@fruitcakeenterprises) on Jul 1, 2020 at 12:23pm PDT

[posted 1:03 pm]