"'Til We Meet Again"

I thought I should write something about the day Mama died. Twenty-nine years ago today. She has been on my mind all day and half of last night.

It was a Sunday afternoon. She had been put in LDS on Saturday morning. She was having trouble with her heart--the doctor had discovered that she had several small heart attacks before they moved up here. Lots of scar tissue. So she was in the hospital, worrying about who would play the organ the next day in church, and who would take care of Daddy. I called Sat. night and checked on her and again Sunday morning. Couldn't speak to her but the nurses updated me. Dad and I decided we would go in to see her Sunday after Sacrament Mtg. During that meeting Uncle Bill came walking in and told us to come out. He said if we ever wanted to see Mama again we should come now. I think we had left the kids at home since we were planning to go in to see Mama straight from church. We went home to check on them and tell them what was up.

So we went in to the hospital. Uncle Bill was there; Daddy was there, and Aunt Janeen. Uncle Ster was picking up Aunt Carol who was flying down from Boise. Mama was in ICU so only one person could go in at a time every hour. The doctors were in with her when we got there, so none of the family was with her. When the doctors came out they told us about her conditon and I asked if they were giving up on her. "Oh no," one of them said. "She's a fighter."
I assumed that meant she would be fine. She was my mother, after all.

After a while it was my turn to go in. Mama was asleep. She looked so tired. I think I touched her pretty hair, but didn't wake her. I stood and watched her for my allotted 5 minutes and then left. Because we knew she was going to be fine, Aunt Janeen and Dad and I went to get something to eat. When we got back Dad dropped us off in front and went to park the car. We went up to the floor and Mama was gone. I remember standing in the hall screaming and moaning. When Dad got there they asked him to take me into a room so that everyone would not hear me. We all gathered in a room and cried. (I'm not sure, but I think someone had taken Daddy home by this time.)

I never said goodbye. Twenty-nine years later I sit here sobbing as I think about her. I felt so guilty for being away from the hospital when she died. Dad has always said it was the Lord's way of protecting me from what was about to happen. It didn't help.

Some years ago Aunt Carol challenged me to write a poem or something about her. I include it here.

Dear Mama,
Life without you goes on.
Children grow up – ours have.
Grandchildren come – twelve so far.
I try to treat them like you did mine.
Missionaries come and go;
all five sons. But still it is life
without you. You and I
never said goodbye.
Goodbye Mama,
Your baby girl