5 Years Gone

My mom passed away 5 years ago during Christmastime. There was no warning. No hospital. No emergency she just went in her sleep. That night I talked to her on the phone she wasn’t feeling well and said she’d call the doctor on Monday. Her voice sounded tired I asked if she wanted me to come over. No, you go to the party and have a good time. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Tomorrow came but so did the phone call. She’s gone. After all the years of praying, going to church and believing in God, He took her home, the ultimate final step for a Christian. When I went to her house to see for myself I was numb. Could it be a mistake? Why didn’t I go over there? Could I have stopped this from happening? No. Death is something you can’t stop.

In the fridge there was a container of her homemade sauce and meatballs, another one with soup. My thoughts were it’s the last meals that she cooked. I’ll never taste her comfort food again. Meatballs never taste quite as good as hers and I always made sure I told her that too. Warm motherly hugs that make you feel wanted and loved, cease.

There’s no word to express the loss of a loved one. One day you have a conversation and the next it’s over. Gone forever are the phone calls asking if everything is ok. Want to come over for tea and supper. I need a ride to the hairdresser can you take me. My role as caretaker and daughter is done. That connection with someone so important for you to make happy and comfortable the best you can is finished.

A day does not go by that she is not in my thoughts, memories and dreams. Soon after her death I dreamt she was all dressed up in white, hair done, smiling with my dad. She told me it’s all right I’m ok. Somehow this comforts me. 5 years gone. I’ll always miss you. And life goes on.

Mama and my grandmother Effie in front of their home in Southwest Margaree, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, Canada