The Day My Mom Died

Overwhelmed, lost, anxious, heartbroken. These are but a few emotions I have experienced over the last few months. The hardest day of my life came on Oct. 24, 2018, when I answered my phone to the news my mom had died. The director of her assisted living residence waited patiently as I tried and failed to process the information. I was at a loss for words. Only now, almost three months later, am I able to put virtual pen to paper.  

I had just come home from an amazing workout, and I was riding the adrenaline high. Oddly enough, my husband had decided a couple days before to take a personal day at work. We were planning to hang out together after we picked up our son from half-day preschool. As I was getting dressed, my phone rang and set us off on a whole new course. 

My husband didn’t want me to drive to my mom’s place alone, so we notified the school that Noah would be absent, and after I pulled myself off the bedroom floor, we headed to Portage. The authorities said they would keep my mom in her apartment until I could make it there to see her. I had been taking care of my mom and dad’s affairs for the past year, so I grabbed everything I had — birth and marriage certificates, funeral arrangements and my mom’s Last Will and Testament. The next step was to notify the rest of my family. I made the calls as my husband drove. 

Knowing I was about to devastate each member of my family with just three words — “Mom passed away” — was not a responsibility I wanted, but it was the one I had. With every number I dialed and every mile we drove closer, my mom’s death became more real.  

Finally, after the longest 45-minute drive ever, we pulled onto my mom’s street. My heart broke yet again as Noah excitedly yelled, “We go see Grandma! We go see Grandma!” All I could do was turn my head as tears poured from my eyes. How was I going to do this?

When I walked into my mom’s room and saw her lying in her chair, I thought someone had made a horrible mistake. The Food Network was playing on her t.v., and she looked as though she were just about to wake up. How I wished that would happen. Please wake up, Mom. Please give me another shopping list. Please send me home with a bag full of stuff I don’t need. Please give me a hug goodbye. But she didn’t. It was surreal. Here laid the woman I had known before I was even born. The woman who talked with me, laughed with me, cried with me and loved me. She would never do those things again. My mom was still, she was cold and she was gone. 

Two of my sisters joined me in Portage, and I thank God for them because I could not have handled the next step on my own. After we met with the funeral director to pick out the casket, programs and make arrangements for the service, the one thing we had left to do was break the news to our dad. 

On a day full of dreaded tasks, this one ranked the highest. My dad has Alzheimer’s Disease. His short-term memory consists of about two to three minutes before he forgets everything that just happened. He still knows who immediate family members are, and he visited or called my mom daily. (He lives in a secure memory care building next to my mom’s building.) How would he take the news? Would he be able to remember it? We didn’t know. Or maybe we did, and we just didn’t want to believe it. 

The first time my sisters and I told my dad that Mom had passed away, he actually took it pretty well. He teared up and spoke well of their life together. We were relieved. He seemed to be retaining the news better than expected. Then after we talked for a few minutes, he asked us what time Mom was coming home. We told him again, and he was completely devastated. He sobbed and shook as he held tightly to us. After a while, he calmed down, and we thought maybe this time he’ll be able to retain it. But after he asked about Mom for the third time, we knew we would have to tell him every day for the rest of his life. 

The day after my mom died, life continued. I’m not sure how, but I got up and worked out, then my son and I made a trip to the store as we had planned to do that day. It felt odd to be doing things so normal after the biggest loss of my life. As we rounded the corner to the produce section, I saw a display of caramel apples. My mom loves caramel apples! I instinctively picked up a pack to take to her as a surprise, but then I remembered, and I put them down. This would take some time. 

But I realize now that there will never be enough time that goes by. I will miss her every day of my life. I still have the instinct to call her when something happens, or if I see something she would like, or even just to talk. The last conversation I had with her, just three days before she died, she told me how exceptional she thinks Noah is and how much she wishes she could watch him grow up. I know how badly she wanted that. It must have been so hard for her to know she wouldn’t get that chance. That day on the phone, it was almost as if she knew her time had come. I wish I had known.  

Losing the person who has literally been there for you your whole life is shocking. It’s heartbreaking. It’s life changing. But I find it helps to take the perspective that I didn’t really lose her. I know exactly where she is and where she’ll always be. She is alive in my memories and in the stories I tell Noah. She is the angel on my shoulder, because as my dad said, “Mom deserves every doggone bit of heaven she’s getting right now.”

Shari
Shari is a Wisconsin native who recently returned to the Madison area. She is a passionate Badgers, Packers and Brewers fan, and she is excited to be surrounded by all things Bucky again! She loves to laugh and make others laugh, especially her son Noah (born 2015) and husband Jason. Shari is a stay-at-home mom to Noah, dogs Ace and Lucky, and cat Alonso. Her secret to successful “zoo keeping” is organization and wine. She holds degrees in Public Communication and Public Relations from UW-Eau Claire where she also worked as a writer before her son was born. She is looking forward to making Madison home again and to all of the adventures to come. Allons-y!

13 COMMENTS

  1. Shari, this is a beautiful tribute to both your mom and dad. I could relate to what you have experienced and tears filled my eyes.

    My mother-in-law had Alzheimer’s. When she would ask about her husband, who had passed away decades before, they told us to do therapeutic lying. We needed to make up that her husband was still working and she would be at peace. It bothered us to lie but it was too painful to witness her grieve yet another time.

    I bet your mom was a sweetheart just by looking at her picture. God bless you for taking such good care of your parents and loving them so much.

    • Thank you, Diane. It’s an impossible situation isn’t it? You did what was best for your family, and I can imagine that was very hard on you all. Thank you for sharing your story. Love to you.

  2. My mom passed on October 11, 2018. I had errands to run before we could make the 10 hour drive to our hometown in Michigan. Those errands were so surreal and the drive was so long. I spent the first 3 hours of the drive fielding calls and text messages.

    My condolensces to you and your family. It is a hard road to lose a parent.

    • I’m so sorry, Brenda. That must have been an agonizing three hours for you. I hope you are finding some peace through this. My prayers are with you and your family.

  3. My dad passed on Oct 9, 2018. My mom has Alzheimer’s and lives in a memory care unit. I miss my dad so much, with my in-laws gone, it feels as if all of our parents are gone. Thank you for writing. It is good to walk the road together and not alone.

    • Hi Kristen. I’m sorry for your loss. My mom was a great source of strength in managing my dad’s Alzheimer’s. I imagine it was the same for you. It is good to know we’re not alone. Sending you love.

  4. My mom has stage iv cancer. Multiple times since her diagnosis, when we’ve received bad news, I have fallen into a state of grief imagining her not being here anymore – I’ve read that is a normal reaction although I know it seems strange. The only time I’ve seen her get upset about her situation is when she talks about how much she wants to see my kids grow up. Obviously she is still fighting, but it still feels so wrong that she might not be here. I’m so sorry for what you’ve gone through but I am grateful to you for sharing your story and letting people like me know we are not, and won’t be, alone.

    • I’m so sorry you are going through this, Meghan. That doesn’t seem strange at all. It’s hard being forced to see the devastating future of our parents not being here. I will pray for you, your mom and your family. Thank you for sharing your story.

  5. Shari,
    Thank you for this story. I just lost my mom to pancreatic in December. It makes me realize there are thousands of us going through the same pain and that I am not alone.

    Donna

    • Hi Donna. The amount of people who have reached out with their stories is truly heartwarming. We are not alone, and sometimes knowing that helps so much. I’m so sorry for your loss. Hugs to you.

  6. Shari, that was beautifully written.
    First of all my sincere condolences for the loss of your mother. People don’t really understand the depth of the loss of their mother until it happens to them. I lost my mom 3.5 yrs ago and just started to lose the instinct to call her. This past Thanksgiving I spent two hours crying because it’s hardest at holidays. I always saw her on holidays. Thank you for sharing.

    • Thank you, Natalie. The holidays were definitely different this year. I’m not sure they’ll really ever be the same for me. I’m sorry for the loss of your mom. I hope you find some peace. Many blessings to you.

  7. I’m able to cope with the holidays as long as I’m with my brother, nieces and nephews for they keep the love of my mother in my heart when I am with them.

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