Wednesday, August 8, 2012....
David, Emma, Wade, and myself arrived at the hospital (I believe) by 7:00 AM. We walked into Mom's hospital room to see my father, my niece and nephew, my sister, my aunt Margaret, and Mom. Mom was laying in her hospital bed, quiet, peaceful, hands together on her chest. I immediately walked over to her side, sat down in the chair next to her bed, took her hand and cried. Her hand felt cold, her color was gone. I couldn't believe Mom was gone.
Dad was the first person I looked at when I walked into the hospital room. Dad, like everyone else, was crying. I felt such deep sadness for him.
The Hospice nursing staff allowed us our time to be with Mom for the last time until the funeral home people came to pick her up and take her away. It seems like it wasn't any time at all before they arrived. We all had to leave her room to go to the waiting room across the hallway so that there would be enough room for Mom to be moved to a stretcher.
While we were all in the waiting room Camille and I stood by Dad who was sitting down. I remember Dad was rocking back and forth, sobbing, saying he didn't want them to take her. He said he couldn't watch them take her. I had to see it though. I walked out into the hallway and stood with my Aunt Margaret. I had to see Mom being taken away, I wanted to remember every moment. It seemed like an eternity before the funeral home people came out of the room with Mom but they finally did.
I saw the stretcher being rolled out with Mom on it. I couldn't see Mom because she was covered with a pretty blue velvet drape. Under the drape I could see the silhouette of Moms body and her face. I still could not believe that was Mom under that drape.
Down the hall they went with my Mom on that stretcher. That was the last time I ever saw Mom.
David, Emma, Wade, and myself arrived at the hospital (I believe) by 7:00 AM. We walked into Mom's hospital room to see my father, my niece and nephew, my sister, my aunt Margaret, and Mom. Mom was laying in her hospital bed, quiet, peaceful, hands together on her chest. I immediately walked over to her side, sat down in the chair next to her bed, took her hand and cried. Her hand felt cold, her color was gone. I couldn't believe Mom was gone.
Dad was the first person I looked at when I walked into the hospital room. Dad, like everyone else, was crying. I felt such deep sadness for him.
The Hospice nursing staff allowed us our time to be with Mom for the last time until the funeral home people came to pick her up and take her away. It seems like it wasn't any time at all before they arrived. We all had to leave her room to go to the waiting room across the hallway so that there would be enough room for Mom to be moved to a stretcher.
While we were all in the waiting room Camille and I stood by Dad who was sitting down. I remember Dad was rocking back and forth, sobbing, saying he didn't want them to take her. He said he couldn't watch them take her. I had to see it though. I walked out into the hallway and stood with my Aunt Margaret. I had to see Mom being taken away, I wanted to remember every moment. It seemed like an eternity before the funeral home people came out of the room with Mom but they finally did.
I saw the stretcher being rolled out with Mom on it. I couldn't see Mom because she was covered with a pretty blue velvet drape. Under the drape I could see the silhouette of Moms body and her face. I still could not believe that was Mom under that drape.
Down the hall they went with my Mom on that stretcher. That was the last time I ever saw Mom.
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