The Moment

The Moment

I remember telling my mom you were on the way. It was a moment I’d looked forward to for a long time, but as I sat with her on the phone I felt distracted by the huge pit in my stomach. Don’t get me wrong, I was euphoric at the thought of you; it’s just both my mom and I knew she wouldn’t live to see you born.

This was the last lucid conversation I had with my mother, the next time I saw her she was all but gone. Her body hung on, but her mind had already let go. I remember lying next to her in a bedroom in my childhood home. This room had seen so much life and now, along with the family it housed for 25 years, it would see death for the first time.

I remember feeling uncomfortable and wondering, wasn’t there supposed to be a meaningful moment before death? A chance for me to tell her how much she means to me? A tender memory I can later recall in times of sorrow? As I rose from the bed I embraced my mother’s peaceful body and hopelessly whispered a timid “I love you”, my voice rendered shy by the enormity of the situation. I don’t know if she heard me or if she even knew I was there.

I guess by 25 I should have understood, the memories you get are not the ones you plan for. I realized later I hadn’t missed our moment, it happened when I told her about you. I only wish I’d had known it at the time because I would have paid more attention. Now I know, life doesn’t point a shiny neon sign at the moments that matter; play it safe and make a point of feeling them all.

Do you ever wish you had a meaningful moment with your loved one before their death?  Did you have one and did it look the way you expected?  Share your thoughts below.  

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3 Comments on "The Moment"

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Thank you for sharing this story. I recently lost my father a few months ago. The family had gathered for a round the clock vigil at the hospital. I was grateful for the presence of loved ones who genuinely wanted to be there for Dad, for us. But, I was unsure of how the ‘waiting’ was to really play out. People talked, were loud, laughed, moved in and out of the room. It felt a bit odd to me that life was going on, and at the same time, we were waiting for it to stop. We took turns sleeping… Read more »
My sister only sister had a short battle with metastatic lung cancer. She had lived at my home until about four weeks before her death, when we needed to place her in a Hospice house. On the Sunday morning before she passed I went to visit her, we ended up talking for hours not about anything special or deep…just sister chat. I did her makeup and helped her put on a nice outfit as she was expecting a good friend to visit that afternoon. The next morning at work I received a call from the nurse at the Hospice house… Read more »