I don’t know why I want to remember this. I just know that I do. And if I don’t write it down soon, I won’t even have the choice.

I didn’t get there until about three, as was my usual routine. It was a Sunday. I had gone to church, had lunch with the family, put Levi down for his nap, and then took the 30 minute drive to my mom’s. I usually went out on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays. Saturdays I spent with Josh and the kids as a complete family. It was our one day a week, as he arrived late on Fridays and left late on Sundays. And two days was the most I could do during the work week in good conscious. I know my kids can be a handful and I was leaving them with Josh’s grandparents.

I don’t remember anymore whether I had seen her the day before. The weekend before, I had been in Indianapolis, running my marathon. When I called on the 7th with my results, I remember Rich had told me she wasn’t doing well. That she was upset she had woken up. She was tired and wanted it to be over. I remember being in a hurry to get home.

Looking back through my credit card statements, I can tell I spent Wednesday night at her house. I remember Levi was acting extraordinarily fussy. I assumed he was sick, so I bought some infant’s Tylenol for him. When I got the call that she had gotten worse, I made the decision to take Levi with me. I didn’t know I would spend the night, so the next morning, I had to run to Walmart for more diapers. My Aunt Susie had stayed with me. We had sung a lot of hymns together. She was amazing with the harmonies.

Looking through that statement, I can see that I did not go out that Saturday. I always stopped at McDonald’s on my way out of town for a small mocha. There were no charges on the 13th. I don’t remember why. Or what I did instead. There was a $2.55 charge on Tuesday, the 9th, however, so I know I went out then. No charges on the 12th. Except for a gas station that indicates Josh was on his way to visit us.

So I got there Sunday, November 14, 2010, at around 3pm. I went in to see her. She was in bed. She had been in bed all week. She had been in a wheelchair since Halloween. I remember because I had brought the children over to show her their costumes. It was the first time I had seen her in it.

That week she had spent in bed, though, she was alert. She definitely let me know how impressed she was with my marathon. She didn’t like being in bed. She wanted to sit up, and if you weren’t there to help her, she would do it herself. She rubbed her elbows raw pushing herself up. We had to buy a baby monitor so we could hear when she woke up and rush in to make sure she wasn’t trying to get out of bed. Actually, it was her idea to get the monitor. She was terrified of no one being able to hear her.

She wouldn’t do much, though, other than sit up. Sit up, drink some water, burp, and lay back down. But if she was awake, she was constantly wanting to sit up.

But she didn’t sit up. Not once since I’d gotten there at 3pm. Neither did she talk. She just slept. I was grateful for her rest. She didn’t get much sleep at night, and neither did Rich.

But after a couple hours, I began asking questions. Rich said she had been awake and alert that morning. That they had said The Lord’s Prayer together. She had been very “with it”. But I didn’t get to see that. Some more time passed and we decided this must be the “coma-like state” that would come before the end. She had never slept this long. We called hospice.

While we were waiting for hospice, she had her first seizure. Her eyes opened and she turned her head. I thought she was looking for Rich, so I called him in. Then the convulsions started. It was horrible.

She had another one with the hospice nurse there. She wondered if the cancer had reached her brain. Or if her cancerous liver was releasing toxins that were causing this. We wondered if it was my mom’s fighting spirit, just refusing to let go.

The seizures were a constant for the rest of the night. I was called back three times just during dinner to help Rich with them.

After dinner, I sat with my mom and let Rich go eat his dinner.

Her eyes were closed. But the nurse had assured us that she knew we were there. You could see the change in her breathing when we talked. I wanted her to know I was there. But I couldn’t think of anything to say. So I reached for the hymnal. And I sang.

I don’t know how long I sang to her. It felt like at least an hour. All I know is that she never once had another seizure. I was afraid if I stopped singing, they would come back. To fill the silence in between songs, I would sing “Jesus Loves Me”.

She squeezed my hand. Twice. It was the only time she was able to acknowledge my presence.

I was singing “All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name” when she took her last breath.

I filled in with “Jesus Loves Me” until I saw the pulse in her neck stop.

It was several minutes later that I was able to let go of her hand. I knew once I let go, it would never be warm again.

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That was hard to write. Hopefully it will help now that it’s out.