To my sweet mom

in an open letter to which there will be more to follow after this one.

Mom, I did my best to make sure you slipped away releasing anything that might have been worrying you or making you feel sad. I was able to spend the last fifteen hours of your life with you and one hour after you slipped away.

For 7 straight hours I talked to you not knowing if you could hear me but hoping you could. Before you transitioned into unconsciousness you had your last conscious experience you would ever have.

You reached your hand out to hold mine. And with my other hand I rubbed your head, moved into eyesight, and said I Love You as your eyes closed and you drifted off to sleep.

For the next 15 hours of unconsciousness I stayed with you to your last breath. I can’t believe I talked non stop to you for 7 hours but I really did. I went from topic to topic fluently mostly about good memories, family, feeling loved, anything that would make you feel blissful and deeply loved.

I have no idea if you could hear me once you drifted into unconsciousness, or if you could, for how long could you hear me? At the very least maybe subconsciously you could hear me and I helped you dream some really sweet calming kind of dreams that made you feel very loved.

All night into the morning to your last breath I lulled you with my voice, I had you feel the touch of my hands on your head and shoulders, and I stayed in eye sight just in case you opened them briefly for one last time.

Remember Kermit the Frogs Rainbow Connection song you use to love watching me sing one foot in front of the TV screen when I was only four? That’s our song mom. At one point during the night I loaded Rainbow Connection up on you tube and sang along for you in your ear. I hope you could hear that. At the very least I hope you had the most wonderful dreams from it that made you feel loved.

My goal in doing all of this was to help you release anything that might be worrying you so you could be comfortable and slip away in peace, feeling loved ALWAYS.

Mom it means the world to me that your last conscious experience was feeling our hands holding, feeling my other hand rubbing your hand, and seeing my face and my eyes just as you began closing yours. You got to take me with you as you drifted away one last time. You didn’t have to make this transition alone or with a stranger. Earlier in the day you got to see both of your sons and hear our voices for an hour until the other had to go due to hospital covid policy.

Mom I will be ok but in the meantime this is really a struggle for me. After dads passing I had you and I loved having you for emotional support. Now you’ve passed and I am out of parents for emotional support. You and dad were BORN to be my mom and dad. You were born to be my little brothers mom and dad. All of the support out there is wonderful and I need it, but, nobody can fill the void of two great parents.

When I was a kid I literally felt bad for every other kid in the entire world because they do not have the parents I have. That sounds silly but that’s how natural and awesome it felt to have you and dad as my parents. You were both born to be my mom and dad.

I am hurting because I’ll never get to see you again, have a conversation, get advice from, or to be there for each other like a strong family does. I’ll never get to walk into the house, see you on your chair watching little house on the prairie, and say, “Hey mom how are you doing?” I’ll never get to ask you questions again. You’ll never get to ask me questions again. We will never get to have a dialogue again. I won’t be able to help you reach for something or go out to eat. The list goes on and on.

Mom I haven’t been able to talk without crying all day today. My sadness has to be a testament to the love and that’s how I have to look at it <3 Tom

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