February 27
February 27
Tuesday, February 23, 2023
Today marks twenty-three years since your death. It seems impossible that twenty-three years has past since that day. It was a day just like the others as I got you out of bed for your breakfast. Chris usually came by each morning before school to say good bye. This morning Chris said he had a headache. I told him he could stay home with us. Immediately you protested as I began to wheel you towards your bedroom. You said you didn’t want to go back to bed, but stay in the living room with us. Since sitting in the wheelchair was uncomfortable, I had Chris move you into the recliner. The day was quiet, as you spoke very little. Around 5:00PM Chris put you back in your wheelchair and I began to administer all your medications. As I gave you your last sip of the liquid medicine, you took your last breath. I was never prepared for that moment. I looked at my 14 year old son in disbelief. When my mother received her cancer diagnosis, her fear was not experiencing her grandson growing up.
This was final. Both Chris and I attempted to lift you from the chair. We were unsuccessful. Frantic, I called Denson to help us. Denson arrived and solemnly carried you to your bed one last time. We fulfilled your wish to not die alone. Until we meet again my precious Mama and best friend.
Today marks twenty-three years since your death. It seems impossible that twenty-three years has past since that day. It was a day just like the others as I got you out of bed for your breakfast. Chris usually came by each morning before school to say good bye. This morning Chris said he had a headache. I told him he could stay home with us. Immediately you protested as I began to wheel you towards your bedroom. You said you didn’t want to go back to bed, but stay in the living room with us. Since sitting in the wheelchair was uncomfortable, I had Chris move you into the recliner. The day was quiet, as you spoke very little. Around 5:00PM Chris put you back in your wheelchair and I began to administer all your medications. As I gave you your last sip of the liquid medicine, you took your last breath. I was never prepared for that moment. I looked at my 14 year old son in disbelief. When my mother received her cancer diagnosis, her fear was not experiencing her grandson growing up.
This was final. Both Chris and I attempted to lift you from the chair. We were unsuccessful. Frantic, I called Denson to help us. Denson arrived and solemnly carried you to your bed one last time. We fulfilled your wish to not die alone. Until we meet again my precious Mama and best friend.
