Can't think of anything good for a title

I can't think of anything good for a title because this post is hard to write.  I'm sitting here, trying to catch up on my work.  I've been almost completely offline for a week because my Mom died.  You didn't see that coming, did you?  Neither did I.

Yes, she was in her 80s. Yes, people don't live forever, but I'm still reeling.  Her death was unexpected.  She fell, broke some bones, and then she died the next day.  She didn't hit her head in the fall.  She was in the hospital getting cared for and she just died.  Apparently, her body couldn't take the trauma.

I didn't get to see her or even talk with her after the fall.  She was in the hospital, but was doing "well."  I don't think she saw death coming for her, either.  My brother saw her before he went to work and she told him not to stay.  She told him she was "fine" and to go on to work.  She died a few hours later.  Another brother had been with her and had just gone to get lunch.  She was sleeping when he left and when he returned they were trying to revive her.

The good news is that I didn't have any major unfinished business with her.  We hadn't just had a fight.  All was normal.  I am pretty sure I told her I loved her the last time we spoke, on Tuesday, (I usually did).  I am sad that I got really busy on Wednesday and that I didn't have time to call Wednesday night or Thursday morning.  That's okay, though, I can live with that guilt.  What I wasn't prepared for  is how I'm left with this horrible emptiness because she's not there any more.  She was always there.  No matter how much we try not to take people for granted, when they are gone, we realize that we did take their presence for granted.  I miss her more than I could have imagined.  I wish I could have spoken with her one last time.  But if I didn't know it was the last time, I'd always wish for one more time.

If I'd spoken to her Thursday, after the fall, I would have told her that I was looking forward to coming home and seeing her and helping her feel better.  That we'd figure everything out.  That it would all be okay.  But would I have told her how much she meant to me?  I would have told her I loved her, but I probably wouldn't have told her everything I wished I could, now.  I wouldn't have asked all the questions I have, now.  I didn't get to speak to her because first, she was getting scans and couldn't have her cell phone and then, after they admitted her to the hospital she was given lots of good pain medications and feel asleep.  In retrospect, I should have insisted on talking to her, but it seemed like there would be more time and that her sleep was a higher priority.

As soon as I heard she'd fallen and broken some bones I was overtaken with grief.  I knew how hard this recovery was going to be for her.  She already had a lot of pain from her osteoporosis and the compression fractures she had suffered in her back because of the osteoporosis.  I knew her pain was going to get worse.  I knew that if she recovered she'd be sad because she'd lose mobility.  I knew she'd get "older" because she wouldn't be able to do as much and that she wouldn't be happy about that.  I was sad for all that was coming.  I was trying to figure out when to go back to see her.  I wanted to be there right then, as soon as she fell, but also later as she recovered; I wanted to be there for the hard part of the recovery.  The only good thing about her death is that she doesn't have to face the horrible recovery.

I am glad she doesn't have to suffer, but I just wish she wouldn't have fallen.  I wish we could have prevented the fall.  My whole family is trying to think about what we could have done to prevent the fall, but we haven't come up with the answer.  If we do come up with an answer, unfortunately, it won't help much because we can't go back and re-do Thursday and prevent the fall.

In some ways, she had a good death.  She had decided to go to a dance class and she fell while she was in it.  She was out living her life and an accident killed her.  She didn't have to suffer for too long and she had lived a long full life.  Of course, it's never long enough.  She was missing Dad, and now she doesn't have to miss him any more. We should all be so lucky, right?

Unfortunately, for me, this loss leaves me feeling like a 3 year old crying for my Mommy.  Where is she?  Where did she go?  I miss her and want her.  I feel like I've been able to be strong and independent because I knew she was always there for me.  She's not there, now, and I'm very sad.