Nothing Left Unsaid

I have just been through the longest weeks of my life. My mother died October 23, 2011 at the age of 81; they called it sudden death. The day before we had talked like every day, talking about her yard and my dog. At the end of the conversation, she instructed me - as she always did - to pet Mr. Darcy on her behalf. Then the usual 'talk to you tomorrow'.

The same evening, she was doing a crossword puzzle and then dozed off. She never woke up again.

As I am trying to wrap my mind around the events, I am left with an overwhelming feeling of gratitude in all my grief. Grateful that she lived to the very last minute of her life. Grateful that she did not suffer but gently transitioned.

After her partner of many years passed away over two years ago, I had begun to call my mom every day. My mom had great neighbors but I felt it was important the she would speak to at least one person each day. And for me to know that she was okay. Ultimately, that’s how I found out that something was not right and called help.

Calling every day kept us close and enabled both of us to share the big and the small of everyday life. And to say all that needed to be said.

I realized that even if I were to be given another five minutes, there would be nothing new to talk about.

I am grateful that there was nothing between us that was left unsaid.