My Best Friend

It was late August of the year 2000 when I sat on an aqua colored rug in the Kindergarten room, at St. Gall School. I had not attended preschool. Therefore, this was my first day of school.

“Jacqueline Smallwood”, called the dirty blonde headed lady who appeared to be in her mid-twenties.

After glancing at my mom, who smiled a “go ahead” sort of smile, I hesitantly walked over to my new teacher.

“I’m Ms. Nagel”, she smiled. “Do you prefer Jacqueline or Jackie?”

“Jackie”, I shyly reply.

Ms. Nagel then proceeded to write my name on the nametag in front of her and pulls the yarn string over my head. I head back to the rest of the children and my mom, on the carpet.

Now came the hardest part.

“Bye Jacks”, she tells me before wrapping me up in one of her warm, familiar hugs.

“Bye”, I reply, with tears in my eyes, as I watch her leave the room with a smile, yet slightly pained look in her eye.

Saying goodbye to my mother was something that was never pleasant for either of us. We had a closer relationship than any of my my friends had with their moms. We were best friends. I could talk to her about anything. She always seemed to be able to ease any worries I had about anything. She also made sure to clear her schedule on any days of school field trips, because if she hadn’t been able to chaperone, I wouldn’t have wanted to go. No matter what the situation was, I could always count on my best friend!

One summer, when I was about seven, my two closest friends, Julie and Lily, were over at my house. We had just finished playing a video game when suddenly Julie decided to invite Lily over to her house, and not invite me. Feeling betrayed and not knowing what to do, I ran to my room, buried my head in my blanket, and sobbed.

A little while later my mom came into my room. Apparently, she had knew what had happened when Julie and lily had gone into the living room and told her that they wanted to go to Julie’s house. That afternoon, after Julie’s mom came and picked the two of them up, my mom offered to take me to the park. Being very young, my 2 friends deciding to leave me behind like such, hit me hard and i was highly upset over the incident. My mother knew this was the case and tried her best at taking my mind off it. This definitely cheered me up. I didn’t even get too upset on the way home, when I saw Lily and Julie going into Julie’s house.

About a year later, I sat at home with my grandmother, where I lived along with my mother and father. My father had gone with my mother to a doctor’s appointment. I twirled on a computer chair in the living room as my parents walked in the front door, but stopped abruptly as I saw my mom, with tears in her eyes, walk over to my grandma, and tell her something about what the doctor’s had told her. My father then noticed me watching what was going on. He glanced back at my mother.

“No, that’s not what he said”, my father quickly informed my mother.

My mother stops crying and looks over at me, seemingly just noticing my presence in the room.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing”, she replies. “I thought the doctor said that I had something else more serious. What I have isn’t as bad as I thought”.

“Okay”, I innocently reply without thinking anything more of it.

Years later, now thirteen years old, I stood in room 4 at school, waiting for my groups turn to perform our assigned skit on Greek Mythology. Room four was the extended day room, not the normal eighth grade classroom. Our class had just used the room because it had more space due to the lack of desks and chairs. This room also happened to be just right across the hall from the main once.

My stomach turned as I had found out that two of my older cousin’s, Beth and Melissa, were in the office, clearly there to pick me up early. It was then our group’s turn to perform, so I quickly finished my role in the skit and ran to the door to the room to see my cousin’s, who were already standing there, and my teacher telling me that they were here to pick me up early.

I walked out the room, and just a few feet down the hall with my cousins, and then glared at the two who stood there silently for a few seconds, with troubled looks on their faces, before one spoke.

“Your mom is in the hospital”, Beth began.

“What happened?” I ask in a panicky voice.

My cousin is, at this point, doing her best to hold back tears and remain at least somewhat calm, but the pain is written all over her face. Beth catches her breathe before going on.

“Her heart stopped beating. The ambulance revived her and was able to get a faint heartbeat.”

“Is she going to be okay?” I ask, tears rolling down my face, and in complete shock.

“We don’t know yet”, she manages to choke out, “But we should probably get to the hospital as soon as possible so that you can see here in case anything happens.

”Melissa still stands there, fighting back tears, and obviously at a loss for words.

“Do you want to go get your backpack and jacket out of your classroom?” Beth asks me.

I decline her offer, wanting to see my mother as soon as possible.

Later that night, my family and I sat in a waiting room in the hospital. There were about ten to fifteen of us, one of which being my older, and only brother, James, who had flown in from Maryland when that had received the news that afternoon. Although it didn't fix the situation, as nothing could, it did help me a bit emotionally when my brother had finally showed up that day. This was likely because, he was the only other person who was in the same exact pain in the same exact way as I was. Our whole family was struggling, but my brother and I shared a slightly different connection with each other in terms of how we were feeling and how wed get through this, and of course, fighting back the inevitable question or even thought of Whether or not wed even be able to speak to our beloved mother again, or hear her voice, feel her hugs and hear her radiant laughter ever again? ...This was not a thought that seemed fathomable.

"I miss mom", my brothers pale red face, looked towards me, filled with tears.

"Smallwood family?” asks the doctor as he enters the room.

When we reply yes, he gives us the news.

“She has lost a lot of brain activity, due to being without oxygen for the twenty minutes before the ambulance got there. If she ever comes out of her coma, then she will likely be a vegetable for the rest of her life.”

These words were like poison, filling the entire room with pain.

I watched, blankly, as my family broke down. Later that night, as my dad and I walked to my mother’s room to say goodnight, I felt numb. It was as if half of my brain was missing and I was only half there. I glanced up at a rounded mirror pointed down towards the halfway, trying to see if i could still see my entire self. And to this very day, I can honestly that based off of my memories of that day, I saw my father and I in the mirror, but that I couldn't see all of mine. Just as my brain felt half missing, my refection seemed to reflect this feeling. The feeling was something complex in which i had never felt before. Part of me.", felt i should feel alarmed by this. However, that part seems to have been away with the missing parts. I did wonder if i would feel normal again.

I couldn’t believe what was happening. I went to bed that night feeling as if I didn’t even want to wake up the next morning, and face what was next to come.

The next day we were informed that my mom could not be left on the ventilator much longer, because it would start hurting her throat. She would have to be taken of it, because it would not have been right to keep her suffering.

So, the next day, October 5 2008, about twenty of our family member’s filled the hospice, to be with my mother, as she took her last breaths. The hospital section of the hospital was built very nicely and had a homey feeling to it. My mothers room was private to her and her loved ones only, and this room was very large.

In this large room, inevitably came a moment in which i had been dreading: The unplugging of the cord...

I knew that what was being done was the humane thing and i understood that it was only because there was absolutely no hope of recovery in her state.

However, I also knew that the unplugging of the cord meant that we could no longer, ignorantly, hang onto the fact that she was technically still alive. She was breathing, at least, which meant life, is what i used to believe back at that time. However, knowing what i know now, i know That's not the case.

She was already gone. She was gone before October 5th, 2008. She was gone before me or anyone else got to the hospital. She was gone before my cousins arrived at my school.

She had already moved on and up into her new, eternal place of living, since the moments her heart had stopped, peacefully at home. She was no longer suffering. The pain was down on Earth, residing with her loved ones who desperately tried to be able to grasp the idea of losing her.

With this being said, I knew how hard allowing that nurse to unplug her was going to be. I knew it had to be done and nothing i could do would change it... But I also knew that all i wanted to was;

Scream, "STOP IT!", at the nurse.

It was almost irrationally difficult for me to not yell, "PUT THE MACHINE BACK ON!"...

For a moment, the image of me pushing the nurse out of the way, aggressively went through my thoughts.

My Aunt Eileen asked me to take a walk down the hallway with her after the machine was unplugged... I felt i probably needed it to help calm my urges. After a few minutes", though, I felt as if I should return to her room, and decided to face being there as she passed away, since if meant id be there for her last few moments. It was the least i could do, I figured. So i rejoined my family in her room. It wasn't much more than 20 minutes later that she passed away.

Ironically, Eyes of An Angel" played in the background on the radio during this time.

I took a painful look at my mothers lifeless body. A look that i was, at the time, unsure if i should have taken or not, but did anyhow. She laid there, her skin starting to turn a light yellow as the human body often does once deceased... I glanced at a scar she had always had on her neck that she had gotten at a super young age playing with her sisters... This scar served as a reminder, in the sense that, it was something only she had on her body. From a life only she had lived. I also glanced at her many people marks in which she had always had upon her pale skin.. The beauty marks, and neck scar served as beautiful little familiarities in which soon would not to be seen again.

These distinguishing marks also served as external reminders of whom she was internally... Beautiful, Compassionate, Unique, Oh-So-Kind, and An Amazing Mother. These internal traits, luckily, would never ever die. They would be remembered though photos, stories, videos, passed on down through her future grand kids when the time shall come.

I never wanted to lose my best friend, let alone at age 13, however, I proudly and thankfully will share that...

I HAD A MOTHER LIKE MARIANNE SMALLWOOD! AND I AM SO GRATEFUL FOR OUR 13 YEARS TOGETHER!

My mother will always be here and will always play a huge part in what makes me who i am today!

Rest In Peace Until The Day We Meet Again. Thank You For Everything, My Sweet Mother...