It has been 3.5 months. Nearing 4.
Sometimes I feel like that is forever and sometimes it seems like just yesterday.
Mothers Day is this Sunday. I have decided I cannot celebrate this year. I cannot read the cards without wishing so I will wait until next year when the loss is just a bit more distant.
I have been replaying the last days in my head. I rewind and get to the last moments and then rewind again. Sometimes I remember tiny seconds that were lost. Sometimes I relive moments that I imagine might have saved her.
Since she died of the Staph infection more than the cancer that day, why didn't I beg her to stay on the antibiotic. She would have if it had been that important to me. Could that have saved her to fight the cancer again?
What if I had kept the oxygen mask on the last hours. Simon was so diligent about replacing it but when we came in the last time and she was struglling I said "take the stupid thing off, she hates it and she's dying". Did that cause her death. She was dropping O2 sats all day. In my mind we were facing the inevitable and she was sick of the O2 mask. I wanted her to have some comfort the last minutes of her life. Was I wrong?
I don't think about these things all day, but they can become unbearable when I do. Usually at night.
It is amazing how similiar the stories of motherless souls are. A dear friend sent me this link:
and then I read her original and thought of this blog: