Holding her hands and stroking her hair. Our eyes filled with tears.
Talking to her, despite days of unconsciousness. Telling her how much she was loved.
Comforting her; telling her it was okay to go.
It was time, and her pain needed to end.
Today and tomorrow are the most emotionally conflicting days for me. The most intense pain I have ever felt, and then a glimmer of happiness.
October 22 was the day my Mom died.
October 23 was the day my youngest was born. He was turning six that year.
It's been two years since my Mom died. The most surreal day I could ever imagine. It truly feels as raw as the day it happened. She passed away shortly after I arrived at the hospice, my sister and I with her.
She waited for the three of us to be together in her room. And she made sure it happened before my son's birthday. Despite her unconscious state, she knew.
It had been a short but intense illness, and we knew her hospice stay wouldn't be long.
But I still can't believe she's not here.
Now, after the wounds are a bit older, I can celebrate these two important people together. I can think of my Mom, and honour her by doing her favourite things on this day, then I can celebrate my little man tomorrow, and know that my heart bursts with love for him.
An inverse few days, emotionally, but definitely filled with so much love.
We never stop learning about love and loss.
I'll never stop missing my Mom.
And I'll never feel fully complete without her.