When She Came To Visit

Did you ever have that person in your life who spoke your thoughts, felt your pain, understood, appreciated and always validated you? A person who made everything that was bad in life bearable and everything that was good in life a celebration? A person who you felt connected to on an emotional, spiritual… even a cellular level?  


That person in my life will always be my mother.


In 2020, our world was turned upside down by a pandemic. Reality for most people had abruptly transitioned to the unfamiliarity of social distance and isolation. We hid our anxieties and fears behind our literal (and figurative) masks as we tried to navigate the absurdity and actuality of the universal cliche, “a new normal”. 


For me, the pandemic was secondary to the nightmare that was unfolding in my world. In May, my close friend Charlie died when he lost his battle with bladder cancer. Two days later my beloved cat Miles (who was my first and only child) was diagnosed with end stage kidney failure. One day later my husband’s mother was found dead in her home. 


Four days later,  I received the most devastating news of all. 


My mom, 83, and my dad, 85, lived out of state and had their share of health issues. In 2019, Dad had a seizure while driving with Mom. As he was incapacitated, the car continued at a high speed. Mom grabbed the steering wheel to avoid pedestrians as the car careened through a parking lot and a busy street, plowing down a tree and a lamppost, side swiping another car, and ultimately crashing into a brick building. Miraculously they survived. Dad suffered with two broken ribs and some minor injuries. Mom wasn’t as fortunate. She had a brain bleed with a broken neck and four broken ribs. 

The recovery and follow up care for Mom was challenging. She wore a hard neck brace for seven months. When her fracture failed to heal, she required spinal surgery. She made it through the surgery and had another four months with the neck brace. 

In March 2021, shortly after her neck had healed, Mom fell and broke her hip.  She was hospitalized and needed another surgery. This was at the beginning of the pandemic. After her surgery, she was sent to a rehab facility which did not allow visitors. We struggled with not being able to see her, but as always Mom was a warrior and persevered. 

We were all so relieved when she came home. She miraculously survived the dreaded rehab/nursing home without contracting Covid. I prayed so much that year for God to spare my parents and give us more time together as a family. My prayers had been answered.

Fast forward once again to May 2020. My friend and my mother-n-law were both gone in the same week. Covid was rampant. Massive restrictions were enforced - no wakes, memorials, traditional funerals or large gatherings. At the cemetery my husband spoke briefly of memories with his mom. We cried awkwardly beneath our masks and then silently drove home. That evening, I said goodbye to my friend Charlie in my dreams with heavy regrets of not being able to share one last hug. 

Within the next few days, my fur baby Miles continued to fade away. I offered him cuddles and coos but he retreated to his own social isolation in a closet, hidden behind a pile of clothes. We knew it was time, and made the decision to release him from his discomfort. I was devastated. 

I never imagined things could get worse. 

After a week of despair, I knew I needed to be with Mom. I hugged my husband and jumped in the car for the four hour drive. My mind raced as jumbled thoughts mixed with regret, anger and  tears. Memories flooded the car as James Taylor sang about fire and rain. Thinking back, I wonder if James already knew that was the day Mom’s stage 4 ovarian cancer diagnosis would be revealed.

Mom tried to fight for her family. She went for grueling chemo treatments but her poor body was compromised and weak. She stayed with us for four months, two weeks and three days.

The last months with Mom were the most challenging time of my life. Despite the immense pain, I wouldn’t trade my time with her for anything. My mom was there for my very first breath. At the end, I was there for her very last breath. 

Struggling to accept her absence, I’ve prayed incessantly for her to visit me. We always talked about her visiting after she passed. I wait for months. I watch. I speak to the ceiling, the clouds and the sky. I go to bed hoping to see her in my dreams and wake up every morning disappointed. I’ve become angry. I am angry at her for leaving too soon and angry at God for taking her from us. I am lost. 

As I sit on my deck on a chilly winter morning, I wonder if God even exists. I wonder how I can go on without her. As I wipe the tears, I hear the sounds of leaves crunching under her hooves as she approaches. I look up and see her.

She is beautiful. She stares at me. Her eyes are loving and kind .... so familiar. We watch each other for an eternity. Our souls speak. 


I take her photo so I will never forget. 

Thank you for visiting. I love you, mom.

(The photo was taken from my home in Morris County, NJ with a Nikon D3500 DSLR with a 55mm zoom lens on an automatic setting. There were minimal edits to the photo.)