Its May Again

Today is May 1. In three more days it will be May 4th and 12 years since my mother passed away from cancer. I miss my mom every day but around this time of year I realize just how much.

The cool breeze and spring warmth make me want to drive to my hometown. I used to get up on a Sunday morning like this and announce out of the blue that I was going to Port Neches. It was so fun to just show up at church and surprise my mom and dad. They were always glad to see me and never failed to show that enthusiasm in their greetings.

Two days after my mom died, was Mother's Day. That year I had ordered a cute "mama bunny" that hung from a doorknob with clasped paws. She was dressed in a blue cotton floral printed dress and apron. Just the sort of thing that my mother would have found delightful. But I never had a chance to give it to her. It sits in my cedar chest today.

We called the funeral home at 4:00 a.m. My oldest brother had gone back to his house only five hours before. My sister in law's mother was a retired nurse and she stayed with my mom and me that night. We had only been asleep for a couple of hours. My other brother, the middle sibling, slept in another bedroom unaware that our mother had just passed away. My dad who had a memory loss, was also asleep in another room. I called my older brother on the phone, " Hello. Its me. She's gone."

Barbara must have been a wonderful nurse because she acted with such superb ability and caring warmth that whole time. Her sleeping bag on the floor at the foot of my mom's bed was her bed. I was asleep on the living room couch in front of the door that opened into my mother's bedroom. I couldn't sleep and each time Barbara got up to check on my mother, I went to help. The last time that she checked mom's vital signs, she stood behind me and wrapped her arms around me as we both looked, watched and waited. Mother's eyes had been closed for a week and in her coma breathed that heavy, gravely way people do when they are dying. "The death rattle" my grandmother had called it. Then with one last labored breath, she didn't exhale. Barbara put her stethoscope to her chest and said, "she's gone." We embraced again as we continued to look on the now lifeless body I once called my mom.

Today is May 1 and a sunny Sunday with a slight breeze. I felt the urge to jump in the car and go to Port Neches this morning. Of course, I didn't because I knew that the house on the corner of Llano and Holland was now occupied with another family.

My mom, Louise Ritchey, was a great lady. She could cook better than anyone I know and would seem tireless as she started the dishwasher at the end of a long day of work. When I picture my mom, I see a smiling woman that loved her family in everything she did.

When my mother died, I felt like part of me died too. Its never been the same. I still can't believe she isn't still sitting in front of the TV watching the Astros or behind her sewing machine making a dress. My mother was the person that most influenced my life.

I love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day!

ML