My mom is gone. I’m not done with her death yet. Not any of it. Especially not the ten days that were spent at the hospital before she passed away. It was a shit fest. My siblings and I came out on the other side, one mom poorer and utterly confused and maybe a little traumatized. It didn’t go the way that it should have.
V has moved home. I, my roomie, V and my mom’s friend S sat in the living room last Thursday. I felt I needed to handle the time at the hospital. S was there the entire time. We did it together. And those ten days irks us both.
Heavy subjects and ponderings about how mom experienced it, what she was able to feel and how she handled it. Then we looked at my mom’s papers, proof of death and so on. While I was eyeing my mom’s certificate where my dad and my siblings father are listed because they’ve been married to my mom, I dryly said “It’s silly really, when I die M (my ex-husband) will be listed on my death certificate just because we’ve been married for two measly years, even though we don’t have any kids or anything”.
S perked up and exclaimed “What? He will? Will my ex-husbands too? BOTH OF THEM? FOREVER? UGH!”
Then we, three divorced women, laughed out loud together, the sound of community ringing through the apartment.
It was one of the best moments I’ve had in this whole process.