Dealing with Death

She was strong, stubborn, but most importantly she was my mother. What I remember most about her was her fun, helpful personality. She always tried to help people, and hand only good intentions. How she could light up a room, and become the life of the party. Although I got many of my traits from her, I never her ability to be a social butterfly. I was more closed in. She showed her willingness to forgive and accept in her final days.

She was diagnosed with Polycystic Kidney Disease a very long time ago. When I was a child I never fully understood what it meant. I knew that mom would get kidney stones from time to time, but I never comprehended how it impacted her health. She had a very, "I do what I want even if it kills me." Spirit about her. She wanted to live life the way she wanted to. This meant she drank a lot, went out a lot, and overall wanted to have fun.

Drinking is what shot her kidneys, and is why I do not drink much. I have the same disease and watching her fade away at the age of 42 made me conscious of the fact that I am only human.

I remember the news. I was at her house, it was around Thanksgiving. She sat me down and looked at me very seriously. I was not prepared for what she would then tell me.

"Kimberly. I only have three months to live."

Although I heard the words she was saying, I didn't believe her. I didn't believe that in three months she would die. I simply didn't want to. I held back tears, held back my bombarding questions, held back everything. I simply showed her strength. Strength I didn't even know I had, but would be broken down during those three months.

Over the course of those three months, we acted as if nothing was wrong. For the first month it seemed like we were playing business as usual for each other. Around the second month, that's when the act got out on hold. She began to lose her mobility, she got shaky, and incoherent. Being around her simply tore me apart, because I felt as though I was losing her. Right in front of my eyes. Simple things would break my heart, like hearing her breathe. That sound. I will never forget it. When she breathed it sounded like a tin can rattling very lightly. It broke me because I knew that this had become a harsh reality. She would never grow to see my grandkids, she would never be there to cheer me on while I grew up, and I knew that's what she wanted. To watch me achieve for her.

The night of, I went over to her house. She was laying down. She woke up for a short minute, and I went next to her and cried. I told her how sorry I was for ever doing her wrong. I told her how much I loved her, how much I would miss her. How much I needed her in my life. And if I could I would take all of it away. She looked at me, didn't say a thing cried and hugged me.

That morning I got the news she had passed, and cried all day. I watched people go on with their lives, and I wondered how? How can the world go on when it feels like my world has shattered? I felt broken. I felt horrible. What could I have done to stop it? Nothing. I couldn't have done a thing. The craziest thing about life is how quickly it can slip out of reach. You take advantage of your day to day lives not realizing how much of it is for granted. The people in your lives at some point, will die. The most valuable thing I learned from her dying. Is to truly fucking appreciate everyone around you. EVERYONE.