In Part 1, I started explaining how Wayne stepped up as my mom neared the end. This is the conclusion of that tale.
Saturday, June 14
We’d just gotten set up with hospice the day before, June 13, when the very next morning my mom suffered a series of mini-strokes. As I was on the phone with the hospice describing her symptoms, she started throwing up all over herself. Wayne was the one to clean her up.
Then while we waited for an ambulance to come transport her to an in-patient hospice facility, I went to take a shower because I hadn’t done that yet. I had left Wayne sitting with my mom next to her bed on a chair. When I returned, he was laying beside her, both of them asleep, holding hands. When the ambulance arrived and my mom cried from fear, he was the one to offer to ride with her.
I will never forget the tender caring he showed my mom that day, and I will always be grateful to him for showing her such love and compassion.
Tuesday, July 1
When I left my mom Monday afternoon I had no idea that’d be the last time I’d see her conscious. Early Tuesday morning she took a turn, the turn, and entered her Death Sleep.
The nurses weren’t sure it was the Big Change until 10 that morning. My mom had been up most of the night so at first they suspected her deep slumber was more a matter of exhaustion. But when they couldn’t rouse her after 10 a.m. they knew. They tried to call and warn me what I’d find when I got there, but I was already en route.
After they talked to me and told me what to expect from this phase, I called Wayne. Without a moment’s hesitation he said, “I’ll be right there.” His office was minutes from the hospice, so true to his word he got right there and stayed with me the rest of the day.
Wednesday, July 2
I wasn’t able to sleep much Tuesday night. I ended up getting back to the hospice at 6:15 a.m. Knowing I hadn’t eaten much dinner the night before and no breakfast, Wayne brought me some. Then, except for a brief trip into work to clear some stuff up, he stayed with me all Wednesday too.
Thursday, July 3
At 4:36 a.m. the call came that my mom had passed. Wayne was there to hold me as I climbed back into bed and cried. He stayed up listening to me as I talked about my feelings. Then he drove down to the hospice at seven a.m. to help me gather her few remaining things.
I was grateful he was with me to take that trip to the hospice. I had thought I’d have to do it on my own, but was very glad I didn’t. Not that my mom had a lot left there. Just a vase, a picture, and her big bear she’d been snuggling with every night in lieu of Murph or Tabby.
But it was the big bear I dreaded bringing home for some reason. It seemed it was her bear now, and if it was back home it meant she was gone. I didn’t explain it to Wayne. Turns out, I didn’t have to. He understood.
They had wrapped up the bear in some patient’s belongings bags for when we came to get her things. Wayne quickly tore off the packaging and carried it out unconfined. Then he strapped it in the backseat of the car and away we went.
I can’t quite explain it, but somehow showing that bear respect felt like the right thing to do. I didn’t have to explain any of that to Wayne. Instinctively he knew.
In so many ways he’s stepped up in our relationship over the years, but this time, when I needed him to do it the most, I’m so glad he did without me having to ask anymore. And in ways I never would have imagined.
In loving memory of Dorothy Ann Mroch. Entered into life October 4, 1931. Entered into Eternal Life on July 3, 2008.
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