The Last 3 Days

5 years ago March 7th was on a Friday like today. 5 years ago, March 8th, was on a Saturday, like tomorrow. This year Feb. had 29 days. In 2003, it didn't. So, the last 3 days.

We only went out when we needed to, except for Daniel, who was out of the house quite a bit. He didn't necessarily want to be there when it happened, which I guess is pretty close to needing to be away. Food kept coming in and so did visitors. When this kind of thing happens you often feel compelled to "do something" and doing something manifested itself in homemade chicken pot pies. Although we took them and ate them, those of us who knew the back story wondered, "Where have you been in the last 8 years? What took you so long? Why are you showing up on our doorstep now? It's too late." In times of grief, people do things that make themselves feel better and the crying and pain is usually a representation of what you've lost, not what the dying person is losing.

I've never lost sight of what my mom lost, but at the same time, I've never viewed her death as a tragedy. A tragedy is being shot and killed your senior year of college or what it feels like if you're the parents and family of that young woman. There are many more tragic examples of death, and I understand that my mom lived a very full eight plus years that she had cancer, and that her family and friends did too. I also know that many many people miss her being around.

David actually put in a full work week and made it back to Boone while my mom was still alive. That's remarkable, but that was Mama. It was Friday afternoon, and I was calling Boone Drug to see about running out there to pick up some more pain medication for her. David was reuniting with Grace and Kate and N were in the white room with my mom. My dad was downstairs and Daniel was with S. I can't remember how many times we all rushed in to be right there with her as she drew her last breath only for it not to be her last breath, or last hour or last day. On Friday, March 7th as I was holding on the telephone line with a pharmacist, N came running in to tell me she thought it had happened. I dropped the phone and ran into the white room. My mom had taken her last breath. It was like she knew I was planning on going out to get her next round of meds and she said, "Don't bother." N said, "She's only a shell now, her soul's in Heaven." Someone got Daddy and someone called Daniel. Someone called my Aunt S and someone called Hospice. When Hospice came, they suggested that we all gather in another room because of the difficulty in seeing someone you love being taken away. My mom was cremated, and even though I know what happened to her body, my last image of her is in the white room, in bed, in peace. We gathered downstairs and K came down to get us after Mama was gone. I'm not a huge touchy-feely hugger type (except with my own kids), but when Daniel came back, we each gave him a hug. He'd just lost his mother.

It was late, it was over, and we were all exhausted. I don't remember how, exactly, but phone calls were made and people were notified. We didn't begin planning her two memorial services until the next day, on my 31st birthday.

So tomorrow's my birthday, just like it will always be the day after March 7th. I've been especially looking forward to my birthday this year because UNC plays Dook and it's definitely our turn to win. With the recent UNC student murder there's been talk about how this UNC-Duke match-up probably will feel different, not as festive. If everything I've read about Eve Carson is true, how she epitomized the Carolina spirit, then I can say with confidence that she'd want UNC to beat some Dook butt tomorrow night. It appears to be who she was. And if my mom were around to observe the 5th anniversary of her death and if she were aware that people are still calling me and e-mailing me on March 7th to tell me they're thinking of me because I'm thinking of her, surely she'd insist that the focus be taken off her and put on the sad loss of Eve Carson. It's who she was.