I always hated the date the 23rd of each month. I’ve both hated and dreaded that date for my whole life. The reason, is, I was convinced that that would be the date of death of me or my Mother. I didn’t know the month. I spent yesterday at my Mom’s beside along with my cousin, her husband, my wife, and me. The date was the 23rd. My mother coded I think 20 times in 10 hours at one point. Each time I left the room, her heart would drop so low they started to call code, but my cousin would run and find me and tell me to hurry, so I would run from the car or wherever I was, and literally, as soon as she heard me, she would come back without interventions. I knew, if I know anything, that her deep love for me, her only son, was the only reason she came back. Even the doctors and nurses admitted to this. We had stayed the night in one of the rooms they have which, are empty, that family of patients can stay in. I’m a strong person in that I can go days without sleeping, and can take a lot of physical pain without wincing…but, I didnt eat yesterday, and I was emotionally and physically drained . Mom’s kidney had ceased to function properly and they gave her a medication that would help stabilize her heart, and when I left the room, her vitals were stable. We had to leave our cats unattended, and given things seemed not to be in in an emergency state, I told my wife we should drive home, get a change of clothes and come back.
To be honest my brain (such as is) was failing me due to fatigue, loss of strength, adrenal fatigue, and more. Although the room we stayed at in the hospital the night before was now occupied, they found us one as were getting ready to go, and both my wife and I felt that we needed to get home, so, we drove home. I had, for some unknown reason, plugged my headphones into my phone and turned the value down completely…which made no sense, but it delayed notification of Mom’s time of death notification from 430am until 10 am…a 5.5 hour delay.
I am writing this from Mom’s place, in the recliner she loved.
I’ve never been a “nice” person…it’s always struck me as a vapid term much like social glue… as in “what a nice guy he is”. So,no, not a “nice guy”, but, I’ve tried to emulate my Mother and Father’s view of people and animals, which let me to be kind, and to try to help them, as my parent’s did.
I want to say a few things about Mom. My mother was a powerhouse of a human. My father was introverted, quiet, fairly passive, but my Mom the opposite. She was extroverted, loud, spoke out for herself and others. I believe I inherited parts of both of them because, in my quiet times, I am introverted, passive, but to the external world, I am loud, boisterous and not afraid to piss people off if I am fighting for what’s right. I admired her more than any human I ever met, and as a result, intentionally or unintentionally, tried to emulate her.
I think I genetically inherited her love of music, because, I would make her a tape, or later, a CD, filled with the music I loved, and they were all tunes she loved, or if she never heard them, loved them as well. She loved the blues, Beatles, you name it….so musically, we were in sync.
And, if I have any positive qualities, they are those I learned from Mom.
Like Harry Houdini, I wanted to try an experiment to see if it is possible to pass a message from “beyond” to loved ones here. Mine was much simpler than his.
On occasions when I visited her at the hospital, I got very close to her ear so that NO ONE could hear or even lip read what I whispered. They say hearing is the last to go, so this is why I chose this. I told her I wanted to know if she made it, and if she was OK.
I chose the name of my first dog that I loved, who was run over by a car. I thought it a fairly odd name, especially for the breed my dog was…you would NEVER guess my dog’s name by looking at it. When I was young, my Mother knew my Dog’s name, and I think perhaps my Dad did, but NO ONE else knew it.
So,the experiment was simple. As soon as she could, get the name of my dog to…I asked for nothing else. A friend of ours who died at one point, and came back with a facility, a talent for contacting those on the other side…contacted my wife this morning INSISTING we do to her social media page. I was working on this article so it was frustrating me to get interrupted,the insistence was even getting my wife irritated, but the lady was persistent. She kept saying this image kept appearing over and over on her facebook page, she couldn’t understand it, and thought it may mean something to us.
We found the page…and when I scrolled to the image, I was almost floored. It had a boy, lovingly holding a dog…the boy’s hair was cut almost exactly as mine was so many years ago, wearing the kind of clothes i would wear,and the dog, was the EXACT type of dog mine was…in fact, the dog’s ear was exactly the picture of the whole body of my dog.
But, with Mom dead, even this was not enough….so since my wife had her on speaker…I asked her the crucial question…”What was my dog’s name….I was not going to react at all to keep her getting subliminal verbal clues. She thought a second to remember what she had been told…the first name was extremely close to me dogs name..but the second name, which immediately followed the first, was EXACTLY my Dog’s name. Since we were on the phone, she had no physical tells from which to guess…I wasn’t even holding the phone. When she announced the name, spelled, said Exactly as I said it, and told Mom was the signal she was safe and OK…I was almost floored. Mom died at 430 Am or thereabouts…I didn’t find out until 10 am….there was no way should have found on this information…because first of all….only Mom and I knew my dog’s name, AND only Mom and I knew this one word, was the signal we agreed would be my message she was ok.
So, although missing my Mom, not having her in my day to day life, to hug, to talk to, is intensely distressing, this sign, arriving the same day she died…merely hours after her death, has given me a great reassurance that she DID survive the death of the shell that housed the intangible part of her being.
Also, I learned that it DOES matter what hospital you take your loved one to, and both the proficiency of the doctors involved, and whether they genuinely care about people as people, or just see them as revenue generators…objects to “practice” on.
The torture, the neglect, the horrors inflicted on my Mother at the first little shop of horrors disguising as a hospital, I feel, doomed Mom. If she had have gotten to the last hospital first, she may be alive, and returned to the nursing home now.
But, ifs are not what are, and the death of my Mom should warn you all to be extremely vigilant and monitor any actions by any “doctor” regarding your loved one.
I wanted to sincerely thank each of your for your love, patience, compassion, kindness, and support our long, protracted battle to my Mom’s life. I wish you could all have met her. She was the most generous, most genuinely caring human I’ve ever been the privilege to know for 62 years. She was the one friend I could always depend on. She was the one person who UNCONDITIONALLY loved me, and put me first in her life.
Although, I know, for me, she is in Heaven, I will miss her so much, and remember her so much, to keep her alive in my heart, mind, and soul.
Thus, I will simply say thank you…give you virtual hugs, and say how truly blessed I am to know you, and to have you as my friends, brothers, and sisters.
~Your Brother, `Anon99