by Erin Supernor

Created on: August 08, 2010

Death Of A Mother

Her body was mangled, deformed beyond recognition and contorted in the hospital bed. The morphine drip was running, but she was still overcome by the agony of the pain searing through every cell of her bones. That's not my mother, I told myself. I must be looking in the wrong room. The last time I saw her she was lithe, energetic, flexible and practicing yoga every day. This could not be her. The voices of denial screamed through my brain as my father led me into the room.

 "Alice, honey, Erin is here." I forced a smile, horrified at the sight of her dying form.
 "Hi mom. Is it okay if I touch you?" I gingerly grasped her bony fingers. Unfortunately, even this moment was worsened by the presence of my crazy husband. He somehow managed to steal the attention with his meaningless chatter,
 "Mom, I love you." I kissed her gently on the cheek. Did she grimace from pain? Or was it my imagination?
 
 My imagination was running wild, a movie screen playing back the memories of my mother-the young beautiful Italian, the hippie-looking woman with long dark hair and the flower child necklace that said "War is unhealthy for children and other living things". I saw her as the Indian dancer, the Polynesian in a bikini with a hibiscus in her hair. I saw her in bed in Bangalore, India, when she had mononucleosis for a solid year. I saw her face saying goodbye, sorrowfully gliding down the stairwell of the Indian hospital as I screamed for her to stay.

 This time she was leaving me for good. Her frail body would be dust by tomorrow and she would be in Heaven. Pieces of me breaking everywhere, no more Erin. No tears, just a cold pain in my chest. Of course, my insane husband monopolized the moment by crying like a baby while I stood silent.  His explosion of emotion sickened me, He had declared to everyone that he was divorcing me soon, and my mother was dying. Rejection and abandonment anyone? ANYONE?

My cries and prayers to God seemed to fall on deaf ears. I wanted to feel hope, but all I felt was panic. My life had become a maze with no exit and no cheese for the poor mouse who kept trying to find a way out. My mom could not rescue me anymore, my husband had no affection left for me. Even my daughter was drifting away. If I could not save myself, my two sons would not  have a sane parent to live with.

 Somehow I kept getting up in the morning, expecting life to still be there. I was hanging on by the invisible thread of faith. In the darkness of her death, I remembered how much she loved me and valued me. She was not perfect, but her love was perfect to me. In retrospect there were so many wasted years when we could have been close, but chose to fight instead.

 But I made a promise to her on her deathbed to take care of "her babies", My David and Mikey meant so much to her. She was my mother. And I am theirs.

Learn more about this author, Erin Supernor.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.