Somber Anniversaries

Marian Neil Hines Nov. 30, 1936-Aug. 15, 2008

I have been in a somber mood the last couple of days, yesterday being my dad's birthday, and today being one year since my mom passed away. It doesn't seem like it's been a whole year. I still call the spare bedroom "Mom's room".

There were times in the past year when I was having health problems that I needed my mother, but, she wasn't here so I had to go through it alone. I needed to hear her say "everything's going to be okay" and her favourite sayings "God doesn't give you burdens that you can't bear" and "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger". I know that hearing those words from her woudn't have made any difference in the outcome of my condition, but I would have loved to hear them just the same.

It doesn't matter how old or "grown-up" you think you are, when a crisis hits, the words and advise of your mother are always a comfort and that's what I miss most. I miss her sense of humour and her optomistic outlook. She was always looking at the good that would come out of some difficulty, and I miss her embraces that were often too tight.

My mom was my best friend and I could tell her anything, I miss being able to share my successes and failures with her, or just watching TV. She couldn't miss a single episode of Y & R, she even had to watch her show before she went to the hospital the day she died. Right after her show was over, she and my sister where leaving to get a different prescription from the ER and didn't make it out of the driveway when she passed away. I remember walking her down the steps with my sister, and mom was joking about if she fell, she'd probably take me with her.

Mom was a strong-willed woman, who, even though she knew she was going to die soon, was always in good spirits and was grateful for every day that she had. Her only fear was that she'd die in a nursing home if I couldn't take care of her. It was getting to the point that I wasn't able to care for her anymore and she knew it, but, she said she didn't want to be a burden on me either. I think that she died when she wanted to, and where she wanted to and I am glad that she went suddenly, without pain, and I was able to be with her when she did, and I'll always remember the peaceful look on her face when she uttered her last words, "Here it comes".