Unconditional Love
It was the moment I finally became an adult and understood what it means to sacrifice for another.
I held her hand as she took her last breath. She was a mother, my best friend, and one of the few people who embraced me with unconditional love. I had no idea how I would navigate a world without her in it. I still don’t.
Funny how life changes. Growing up, I did everything possible to annoy her. I called her Rosey butt instead of mom; and, when I got angry I would claim that she was not my mother because I was Elizabeth Taylor’s illegitimate daughter. I tested and challenged her at every turn. I drank, smoked pot, got kicked out of school and temple and kicked off the school bus. The rules did not apply to me, and there was no limit to the amount of trouble I got into.
She would constantly tell me that she was sending me to finishing school and that I was grounded for the rest of my life. Through all the difficult times, she always embraced me with love and understanding. When my curling iron broke and I couldn’t possible be seen at school with bad hair, she let me stay home. When I flunked my driver’s test, she told my dad and brothers that the line was too long at the DMV.
As an adult, I realized all of the support she gave me and the sacrifices she made on my behalf. When she got ill last year, I made the decision to quit my job and take care of her which taught me the true meaning of sacrifice. That time together was so special.
We spent our days going from one doctor’s appointment to another and our evenings watching Judge Judy, JEOPARDY, and Wheel of Fortune. I got used to the screech of Judge Judy’s voice and, at one point, mentioned that the people on the show made me look like a saint. With a smile on her face, she said she was not so sure about that. One evening, after two glasses of wine and a particularly good episode of Wheel of Fortune, I decided to cyber stalk a contestant. He was cute, age appropriate, and geographically desirable. Thank goodness, common sense prevailed and I decided to wait until the morning. Apparently, drunk Facebook’ing is much more dangerous than drunk dialing. I hadn’t realized that my message would go to all of his friends and mine. Yikes, that could have been brutally embarrassing.
My mom and I spent many hours reminiscing and laughing about the tumultuous times of my youth. Towards the end, when she was in horrible pain, I would try to distract her with some of the stories she had not previously heard. Often, she would stop screaming and ask me if I was out of my mind. Her all-time favorite was the small hole I cut in the hallway screen door. Sure, I needed a screen for my pipe. She was appalled, but I often heard her laughing as she hobbled down the hallway.
Towards the end, there was nothing I could do to stop the pain. She was dying, and I was in charge of her health care directive. She was in the hospital barely breathing, and the doctor thought there might be a slim chance if he intubated her and put her on a ventilator. She had a DNR, so why would he ask me this? She often told me she was tired of suffering and just wanted to die. I would have done anything in the world to save her, but I realized that meant letting her go. It was the hardest, most heartbreaking decision I have ever made. It was also the moment I finally became an adult and understood what it means to sacrifice for another. She lives within me, and there is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about all the laughter, love, and joy that we shared.
