When I look back on my family, I notice that my mom had a special relationship with each of her children.
In my twentys, living in Midvale with my family, Mom and I struggled. I wanted to be independant and for the first time in my life, I had a social life. I enjoyed being with my friends. Mom worried about the kind of things we were doing. We really didn't do very much wrong. She told me that family is more important than friends. You always have your family, while friends come and go.
When my family moved to Ventura, California. I lived with Mom and Dad and Steve. I had boyfriends who came over, took me out and talked to me on the phone. Mom waatched me as I went in and out of the house with my boyfriends. She seemed OK with it until one evening when I didn't come home until 3:00am. She was sitting there in the rocking chair, wrapped up in a blanket. She told me that if it happened again, I would find my belongings on the front porch.
When Mom and Dad moved from Ventura to Sacramento, California and then to Utah, I stayed in Ventura, living alone. Mom and I had an arrangement She would call me once a week on a Saturday and I would call her the following week on a Saturday. I really enjoyed those telephone conversations.
When life became tough for me in Ventura, I was able to keep most of the hospital stuff away from them. I didn't want them to worry. When Mom found out about my last hospital stay, it became obvious that I couldn't handle it by myself anymore. My parents came down and packed me up to move to Utah.
I lived with my parents for quite a while. My illness progressed. I spent a lot of time at mental health and made some friends. Something inside me drives me to be independant. I moved in and out of apartments and back and forth with my parents. Mom and Dad tried to help with everything going on. They supported me in all my crisises.
Mom started falling down a lot. She broke her arm a couple of times. One day she called me in my apartment and was talking jibberish. She couldn't form words. I didn't know what was wrong. It didn't occur to me that she was having a stroke. She called my sister, Jan who told Dad to take Mom to the hospital because she could be having a stroke.
While recovering from her stroke, Mom became very depressed. One day when I was sitting with her she talked about dying. She said that at the most she had ten more years to live. She told me about the will and everything.
I have such a tremendous warmth in my heart when I think of Mom. The last time I saw her she was paralized, unable to move anything except her eyes and her right arm. She was trapped in there. As much as I wanted her to be with me, I couldn't stand to see her like that. Though that was the last time I saw her, I have other memories of her that I prefer to think about.
Goodbye Mom. I can't wait to see you again.
