My Education in the Death of Delores

Near her end of days-a time for dreams is all she had. Living her last days hungering for heaven arms to release her gently into that special place of belonging. All in all-this brief interlude was her destiny precluded by the crucifix laid bare in her educated decree she could not escape.

Delores was my mother of gentile ways, in her youth she had often spoken about past tenses, things she often would change if she had the opportunity, then again, she lived with no true regret.

My fondest memories of my mother were often the best of times, where care free days seemed to drift away before the fleeting hands of time. The most precious and dear moments we shared were often reserved when school was over and summer vacation began.

My mother intrinsically adored classic horror movies from the fifties and sixties era. Movies were our bonding and escapism away from the real world. I can never replace those years, and yet I feel overjoyed knowing our times were filled with the joy of loves prominence.

I remember their were times our family did not have two cents to rub together, but we had lots of love, caring and genuine nurturing that money could never buy. My mother was a gentle spirit-lingering in brief relief of gin and tonic, expressing her depression-indulging in valium and percocet. Her life was often bereaved by listening to Sunday morning spirituals, this was her solstice in which she found her refuge.

My mother was an escape artist, revering into the begotten past of her history, unforgiving as it may have been.

And there was that one day, where time stood still, my mother told me she was diagnosed with having a rare form of cancer. There were no words or emotion to describe what I felt when she hit me with this news of unrelenting reality. I did not know what I was feeling, it felt like I won the million dollar lottery-only to realize it was nothing more than a surreal dream. I felt exasperated and helpless, especially knowing that the disease she had was one of the worst forms of cancer.

Bone marrow cancer did not give Delores a lot of time to prepare other family members of her diagnosis. And in her reality of knowing her time was very limited and precious, she decided to keep this confidential and private. My mother confided in me not to disclose any of this to my other family-only myself and my wife knew of her tragedy.

As I interacted with the doctors whom were trying to find a bone marrow match, by that time the cancer was too far advanced-there was nothing left to do. There was no remission period, by then it was too late-far gone in the wind of that simple reality, knowing that the hours and days we had left were very dear.

My mother had come to accept her premature death, not as fate as most people would believe, but more or less a humorous look at her life. I began noticing subtle changes in her attitude towards dealing with death and bonding with death. Like the pieces of a puzzle completed in earnest fashion was what was left of her life. Every time I would visit her at the hospital, she always had the Holy Scriptures right by her bedside. I know she was making her special arrangements with the lord and savior before she made her grand departure.

I have always cherished the special moments that I spent with my mother, I was fortunate to have a wonderful mother who was refined in so many ways, it has made me the man that I am now. The enormous wealth of compassion that my mother displayed in her personal life was without bias and prejudice, she taught me to be the same in my walk in this life.

I was never in denial about my mother's illness, and never questioned it, I just accepted it as my education of nothing promised in this life is gained drowning one's self in grief and despair.

Delores never had any regrets in her life, many times she spoke the blinding truth about the hardships of motherhood, but that never slowed her down in her energy and time she spent with us all. She once said "being a mother, some accept it like it is a death sentence, living with regret all of their lives-as if their children were vagabonds in the night." That poetic verse has been etched in my mind and bears my essence as what kind of man I have become.

My mother taught me one invaluable teaching tool, ,life is a brief interlude, cherish your beloved time with family, loved one's, and take advantage of each and every opportunity.

I lived and learned much during this time, and subconsciously we survived with the help of our Grandmother, my grandmother was the perspicacious mentor where all infinite teachings derived.

Before her leaving, Delores uttermost request was to love our family unconditionally, deep transcending words of wisdom was my mother distinctive character. There is no easy or comfortable solution for the loss of a loved one. All of this life that surrounds and captures us in the frailty of time-tell that everyday is a precious adventure. There are no fairy tales to tell when a loved one departs from our life. Often times we are left with the indispensable fact of how precious our moments are to spend quality time with the one's we love.

There were times my selfish desires could not acknowledge why at such a tender age she had to die-leave us with the burden of living with her memory. I later came to realize how terribly close we are acquainted with death.

No one knew of Delores cancer, until the final months before her death. She hid it well-behind a veil of disguised pain. Finally when the Bone Marrow Cancer began to overwhelm her body, the rapture had taken a ten year period where the door of opportunity approached closure. Amazingly, it was her will and desire to fight a disease where her life expectancy was diagnosed at five years best.

I remember the morning that I received the phone call from the hospital, the nurse voice sounded urgent and final. This was the day that would not take me by surprise. I had prepared myself for that day, rehearsing the scene in reenactment as trained actors do.

I had visited her at the hospital the day before, she looked well, maybe not like a person that is about to die, and something profound struck me about that moment in time.

I never actually knew what death was supposed to look like when your dying , when your so young and full of life. Somehow it did not seem fair for a woman who had just one year prior receiving her Master Degree in Criminology.

I pondered on that thought, but who was I to be selfish with her death..,-friends and family were at the hospital long before I had arrived. I walked over to the table where she lay, she looked so peaceful, so unbelievably peaceful, and my beloved wife was still holding her hand, clinging to it like she was still with us.

Her mother just stood there weeping, repeating over and over again, "why her-why her, my dear lord, she was my only child." And at that moment I acknowledge that my grandmother would never accept her daughter death as premature.

As other family and friends left that cold unrelenting room, my wife stood by my side in a tempered way, disguising her feelings of remorse. This was a strangeness that seemed to be related in an afterthought-the kindred knowledge of death that makes you feel so incomplete.

The time was at hand for that unsure prudent decision, not knowing what to do, I did the only thing natural-I gave my mother a final goodbye kiss. Upon that incremental moment in time, I do believe God permitted me passage to embrace her gentle spirit.

Later that night after all of the proceedings and familiarities were complete and final, I feel into a deep sleep of forgetfulness and dreams. As I lay sleeping I felt suffocated for a brief moment, it shook me so that I awoke instantly from my sleep, and as I awoke I could breath again. At that moment I then knew her release from this life was permanent, and that completely reassured me that she was at peace finally-resting upon the eternal sleep.