Susan E. Hunt 10/28/1956 – 12/04/1997

5 12 2009

Today marks the 12th anniversary of my mom’s passing. I so very rarely talk about this (without being prompted) although I’m finding myself saying things like ‘Oh, my mom would totally love this!’ Usually at work, too. Who knows what people think about that- I’m the crazy chick who’s always referring to her mom’s personal taste.

But I digress. I have a hard time going into the details of my mother’s passing. Mostly because I don’t really know what to say. It all seems so maudlin really.

Growing up, it was just me, my brother and our mom. We were pretty tightly knit. Granted, we didn’t always see eye to eye but I knew she had my back.

Anyway, she died pretty suddenly. Actually, I should elaborate: she fell into a coma suddenly and was hooked up to machines for 3 weeks while the doctors ran tests to determine whether or not she would ever resurface, let alone function.

I don’t remember a lot about those 3 weeks. I’ve probably blocked much of it. I remember feeling dazed and under a lot of pressure- at first to rally around my mom and then to make the decision to take her off the machines and other treatments that were keeping her alive. Her brain was severely damaged; she was able to breathe on her own and that’s honestly about it. Her heart kept seizing up and her kidneys had failed. She had never regained consciousness and according to the battery of tests she wasn’t going to.

I almost missed her last moments. I’d gone to the cafeteria for dinner and when I came back up to the floor her room was on, I was met by various family members, panicked because I wasn’t there when it was readily apparent that she was dying.

I don’t remember the exact moment of her passing. I remember being alone with her after though. I felt like I was supposed to weep uncontrollably but I couldn’t feel anything but a twinge of guilt through the numbness.

Instead, I’m feeling it all now, I guess. Sometimes, at random, a song will come on the radio or I’ll hear a woman who sounds like her and I’ll just lose it. As in lock myself in a closet/backroom/wherever and just bawl my eyes out.

I’m sorry. I thought this would be more eloquent, as opposed to just being disjointed, overly-emotional ramblings that will land me on someone’s STFU blog.  I’m not interested in anyone’s pity- I’m well aware that lots of people have gone through so much worse.  Meh. This still looks like a cry for attention and/or pity. Not my intention.





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