Goodbye, Sweet Mommy. I Miss You Already

Talking that final walk; breathing that final breath

Marilyn Flower


Image collaged by the author on

The phone rang just as I stepped into the shower.

When the man said, this is Ron Shulman from Synergy Home Care, I knew what was coming.

“I’m very sorry to be the one to tell you, your Mom just passed.”

My response back to him. “Okay if I take my shower?”

Even though Jews traditionally cover mirrors so how we look doesn’t distract us from grieving, I took my shower. I even washed my hair.

Nothing crucial was going to happen in those fifteen minutes.

It had already happened and I missed it.

So much for my gallant vision of holding Mommy’s hand as she took her last breath.

Probably wouldn’t have happened anyway, as she was getting a poopy diaper changed. She did a lot of that in her final days. The nurse rolled her over and she took one last gaspy breath.

And was gone.

Just like that.

As if she said to herself, “I’m done with this shit.” And left her tiny fragile shell of a body behind.

Now her spirit flies free.



Marilyn Flower

Writer, sacred fool, improviser, avid reader, novel forthcoming, soul collage facilitator, prayer warrior and did I say writer?