My Mom Passed Away Suddenly Yesterday...

[PeterA]

I don't think I will ever be able to forget what happened yesterday...

My father and mother drove me to work, as they usually do, and dropped me off shortly after 1:00PM. My mom seemed perfectly fine. I started work and then, around 6:05PM, my manager calls me to the front and there, my manager is standing with my supervisor, and my aunt is there along with one of my cousins. The first thing my aunt does is give me a hug and tells me we need to go, and I just look at her confusingly, and then to my manager, who also tells me that I need to leave, so I do, and as we're walking out, my aunt is trying to hold back tears and tells me that my mom went to lay down for a little while and my dad couldn't wake her up when she wanted to be called...

And I'm just in shock as she's telling me this... my aunt was telling me that my mom is gone... just like that... she's gone...

I didn't say or even feel much as we drove back home. My uncle called my cousin from his phone and told her that we needed to get back fast because they were ready to take her away... but I told my aunt that I didn't want to see her. I didn't want my last memory of her to be after she had passed away. Then, when we pull up, the police and others... I don't know who they were, but there wasn't an ambulance... the police that arrived first after the 911 call had, as I later found out, attempted to revive her but it was too late... at some point between 4:00PM when she went to take a nap and 5:00PM when my dad went to call her, she had already passed away... They still hadn't taken her away yet and my aunt asked me if I wanted her to drive me around the block while they did... and I just told her no, that I would keep my head down and close my eyes, and that's what I did, until they... and her, were gone...

I don't know what happened... but I asked my dad as well as my uncle, who had arrived earlier with my aunt and cousin when my dad called him, if her eyes had been closed and if it looked at all like she had been in pain, but both my dad and uncle said that her eyes were closed, and she looked as if she was just sleeping very peacefully. Hearing that seemed to help... a little... it sounded like whatever happened, she didn't suffer... it sounded like she just went to sleep and never woke up...

I didn't cry hardly at all yesterday. Today, I have cried and I know I'll cry again before the day is over. I knew my mom was getting up there in age, she was 69, and I knew that it was bad she had smoked for so long, but she had cut back and she didn't have any noticeable disease that could be attributed to smoking, and if she did, there were no warning signs. What I'm trying to say is, while I'm aware smoking can cause a lot of diseases, she wasn't showing any symptoms of anything. What ended up taking her away from us though doesn't matter... it was the sheer suddeness of it that has made this particularly hard on me. If, in fact, she didn't suffer or feel any pain, then I'm so grateful that she dediced to pick that time to rest in bed, so that when whatever happened, happened in her sleep.

I didn't get to say goodbye to her though, or tell her that I loved her one more time... and what bothers me too is knowing that I didn't tell her how much I loved her, enough. The last thing I said to her and my father after they dropped me off at work that day was an unexcited, "I'll see you tonight, bye," and that was it... the last thing I said to my mother.

This morning, after I got up after finally getting to sleep last night, I got ready to go with my father to the funeral home, where my uncle and aunt were to meet up with us, but before we left, I couldn't help but go to the closed door that led to her room (my father said he had done it five times throughout the night, hoping it had all just been some bad dream) and open it, and that was the first time I actually broke down and just started crying. I cried on the way to the funeral home, I cried at the funeral home, and later, when we got back, when it came up on 4:00PM (the time she went to take her nap yesterday) I went to her room and just sat next to her empty bed, and for an hour, talked out loud how much I was going to miss her and how much I loved her and how sorry I was we didn't get to do all the things she wanted to do down the road... I cried on and off, but I stayed there until 5:00PM, which was when my dad found her the other day, already gone...

I was very close to my mom. I can't believe she's gone... forever. To go suddenly and while asleep rather than struggling with a disease or illness that brings pain over the course of months or years before passing away is really the only thing bringing me the slightest bit of comfort right now... but my life still feels a lot emptier and more lonely now that she's suddenly gone.

I miss her so much...

[kayc]

My heart goes out to you. I know what it is to suffer loss, esp. that is so unexpected. It comes as a shock and permeates every ounce of your being. You say you told her "I'll see you tonight, bye." but that is what life is made of, the everyday humdrum things. Still, your mother knew that you loved her, regardless of how much you told her...or didn't. My son isn't demonstrative, and rarely voices "I love you" unless I say it first, then he'll quickly say "I-love-you-too" so quickly it sounds like one word, all rushed together. But I know that he loves me. No matter how busy he gets. It's just there, between us...just as it was there between you and your mom. I am glad you have the comfort of knowing she didn't have to suffer...that is the one thing that comforts me with the loss of my husband.

It is good to voice yourself, you can talk to her, you can write to her, you can voice your feelings here. In time you will learn to carry her in your heart, as I have my husband, so that you can reach down inside and receive comfort and encouragement from her, just as I do from my husband. It has carried me through the years.

And it's okay to cry...tears are the release valve on a pressure cooker...they bring healing and cleansing like a balm to our soul.

[mfh]

Peter, I am so very sorry to learn that your mother died and so suddenly. I know this is shocking and traumatic for you. I am very glad you found this group...made up of loving people who will walk with you as you grieve.

Coping with Sudden and Traumatic Loss

From Marty's site: http://www.griefhealingblog.com/2013/09/mother-loss-list-of-suggested-resources.html (A long list of articles you may find helpful.)

It is important, I believe, to educate yourself about grief and some of these articles can do that. You will also learn a lot by reading posts here on this site. Your tears are a sign of your love and they will flow. In time and with some grief work (reading, journaling, sharing, etc.) your pain will ease up but you will miss your mother forever just as everyone here will miss their beloved forever. Do come back and tell us more about your mother and share your pain.

[enna]

Dear Peter,

My heart reaches out to you on the sudden death of your Mother. I am so sorry you must experience this painful journey.

Anne

[enna]

Peter,

I found this article by Alan D. Wolfert, Ph.D and thought you may find some comfort in reading it. The topic is "Helping Yourself When a Parent Dies" ~

http://griefwords.com/index.cgi?action=page&page=articles%2Fhelping4.html&site_id=2

A book that I personally found very helpful to me is his book titled: The Journey Through Grief: Reflections on Healing

I hope you are doing the best you can at this time. Taking care of yourself by eating right, resting, staying hydrated, and most importantly giving yourself time to heal.

Anne

[feralfae]

Dear Peter,

I am so very sorry you have lost your Mother. Please do be sure you take care of your body by eating well, drinking plenty of water, and getting lots of rest.

I am glad that you are able to cry. Tears help to release some of the pain. One grief counselor told me that tears help to wash the pain out of our hearts, and I think she is right.

I am glad you are there with your Father and family right now. I hope you can take a few days off from work to be with others who can share your grief and comfort you, even as you comfort them.

All the suggestions that others have made above are good ones. I am so sorry for this totally unexpected and painful loss of your Mother. I know that you are in a lot of pain right now, and I hope you know that you are being held in our hearts and we will be thinking of you each day. Please feel free to come here often and let us know how you are doing.

Blessings to you, Peter, and know that we all care about you and want you to feel free to come here as often as you can.

feralfae

[MartyT]

Peter, my dear, your statement that you didn't get to say goodbye to your mother or tell her one last time that you love her reminds me of a beautiful piece written by our friend Darcie Sims, another wonderful woman who died earlier this year. I invite you to read it now, in hopes that it brings you some measure of comfort and peace:

Goodbye to Goodbye

by Darcie Sims

"I didn't get to say goodbye." As a therapist, I have listened to thousands of bereaved people lament about the last words they spoke to their loved ones. So many of them have wept in grief over not saying goodbye. So much grief has been spent on not saying a farewell; so much additional hurt has been felt because someone did not get to say goodbye.

Sermons have been preached, books and poetry written about saying goodbye. Pictures have been painted, tears caught in bronze and sculpted arms left empty in the lament of goodbye. Almost no one believes there might be a reason to say goodbye, now—today! Most days are simple, ordinary ones and there seems no special reason to say goodbye. Hardly anyone knows it will be the last day or the last time.

Why do we spend so much time and grief over not saying goodbye? Why do we wash away the words we did get to say over a lifetime of loving someone with the single lament, "I didn't get to say goodbye"? Why are those words so important that the lack of them creates a lifetime of additional hurt and pain?

Ceremonies are created and designed for the bereaved to say goodbye. We stand in line for hours to express our sympathies to the bereaved and say "goodbye" to the deceased. Even if we have not seen the deceased in years, it seems especially important to come at the time of death to say goodbye. Funeral directors, mental health professionals and most of the world seem to believe that it is necessary to say goodbye in order to begin the healing process.

Goodbye? Why would I want to say goodbye? I wasn't through saying hello! Thirty-four years ago, I did get to say goodbye. I knew the end of our son's life was approaching, and I got the chance to give one last hug and say one last goodbye. I got the chance to say goodbye and I didn't take it. In the last moments of my son's life, and years later, of my parents' lives, I did not say goodbye.

With the very last breath of my son's life, I simply said, "I love you." I was able to be with my mom in her final hours, and I did not say goodbye. I said, "I love you." And although I was not with my dad when he died, the last words I shared with him as I left his home on what was to be his last night, I kissed him and said, "I love you." If you did not get to say goodbye, let go of the hurt you are experiencing. You would not have said it, even if you had had the chance! You would have said, "I love you."

Goodbye is simply too final, too harsh, too forever. Surely your loved one knew you loved him. Surely your loved one knew you cared. And even if you don't believe they knew, you can do something about that right now. Go outside, find your special star, and with all your might, whisper, speak or yell out loud, "I LOVE YOU!" Trust me, the universe is listening, and your words of love will travel far to reach the heart of those no longer within hug's reach. I guess you could yell goodbye, too, if you really want to . . . but why? Why let the grief of not saying goodbye rob you of the memories of what you did get to say and how you lived your lives together? Why let not saying goodbye steal away the joy of knowing your loved one was in your life and still is a thread in your fabric to be woven forever around your heart?

Goodbye? I'd rather live my life so that my last words were "I love you." We never know when an ordinary day will turn into a day that gets marked down in the family history as a not-so-ordinary day. But all of us can live our lives so we can leave with few regrets. Do not let the events of the past few years rob you of your hope, your passion, your joy in living. Let it become a lesson for all of us to live our lives as if there were only moments left, because that is all there really are anyway. Moments, just moments, one after another, each special and sacred in its own way, each waiting to be etched forever on our memories or lost in the sea of millions of other ordinary moments.

Long ago, I learned that any moment can be the last one, so I no longer waste too many of my moments. Oh yes, there are days when I simply plod through the moments, not even aware of their passing. It often takes a cataclysmic event to shake me out of my reverie and reawaken me to the specialness of each moment.

We each need to take advantage of the moments we have and spend them wisely. Spend them saying "I love you," instead of wishing you had said goodbye. Make a commitment to never let another moment pass without being aware of its passing.

Goodbye has always been a part of my life, because I grew up military, married military and gave birth to military. My address changes more often than the weather. But I gave up saying goodbye long ago when I realized that "I love you" lasts far longer and feels so much better. Goodbye? I'm not through saying, "Hello," and "I love you!"

©2010 by Darcie Sims. Reprinted with permission from Grief Digest, Centering Corporation, Omaha, Nebraska, 402-553-1200

About the Author – Darcie D. Sims, PhD, CHT, CT, GMS, was a bereaved parent and child, a grief management specialist, a nationally certified thanatologist and pastoral bereavement specialist, and a licensed psychotherapist. She was an internationally recognized speaker, a former contributing writer for Bereavement Magazine, and wrote for Grief Digest since its first issue. Among her many other accomplishments, she served as president and co-founder of GRIEF, Inc., a grief counseling business, and Director of the American Grief Academy in Seattle, WA.

[pinkysmile]

I’m so sorry to hear of your loss. It’s just horrific isn’t it. I lost my dad on June 10 this year. He was also a smoker for many years. He too had cut back but as a result gained a bit of weight yet we too noticed no signs. In the weeks following I tried to think of possible signs. He had the flu the week before and I was meant to go and see him two days before, in the weekend, but mum told me to stay away so I didn’t get it. He died in the night, two nights later, while he was sleeping (the coroner has not yet determined the casue). I too struggle with not getting to say goodbye. I still have moments where I struggle to believe I have just lost two of the most precious people in my life.

“and what bothers me too is knowing that I didn't tell her how much I loved her, enough” She would’ve known just the same as you know how much she loved you. Love is more powerful than words. When there are no words left, there is still love.

Take everything one moment at a time, there will be times when you need to. If the tears come let them. If they don’t that’s okay too.

[Little Girl]

My heart goes out to you, I am beginning the process of mourning. I am thankful I found this site.

[sharirouse]

Im sorry this is such a late reply but I hope I can help a bit. I definitely know how you feel. My dad was in the hospital and I honestly didnt know he was going to die the next day, I was just under the impression he had an anxiety attack. he couldnt breathe and was afraid to go to sleep so they gave him some morphine and he finally went to sleep (I was asleep for that whole party) and that was about 4 am. We left at 5 because the ICU closed at 6-9 and then we were called back at 7 because he was intubated. He told me multiple times he loved me while he was awake and I told him i loved him too but I hate that I never got to hear him speak again. I dont know if he even saw me after that. I regret not waking him up but he was finally comfortable. Fast forward to him passing and oh my gosh. I feel like i lost a limb. I couldnt stand being in his house after that and I do feel so alone but hey, she is still with you and if you ask enough, you can dream about her .

And man, cry as much as you can! It feels so much better. Dont hold it in, let it flow! Someone told me that the pain is like a brand, and it burns it into your heart so you will never forget her. ever. it just hurts so much because you have so much love and thats good