As I was laying there wide awake in my bed the phone rang. It resonated eerily throughout the house. Even before my grandmother had answered the phone call at four o’clock in the morning, I already knew why the phone was ringing and who was calling. My father was calling the house from the hospital. He was calling to tell the rest of the family and myself that my mother had just passed away. When I had gotten out of bed after my grandmother announced the news throughout the house my aunt who whispered to me, “It’s okay to cry”, embraced me. I couldn’t cry I wanted to but I couldn’t because I didn’t believe that she could really be gone. It seemed like she was just spending time with me at the house and then just passed away suddenly. When the phone rang that night I had lost a part of myself that will never get replaced. There was now a hole in my heart and my mind where my mother used to be.
Three days before my dad called, he had told me in one of the many cold and lonely waiting rooms that my mother was terminally ill. At the time all I could do was deny it. I thought to myself that it wasn’t possible that my mother who had survived cancer twice before was fatally ill with the same disease. I had just figured that she would be fine and get through it just like she did before.
Three nights later my dad asked me if I was going to stay the night at the hospital with my mother. When asked to stay the night in the hospital with my mother, I didn’t even realize that when I said no how much it would affect me later that night. The importance of the question revealed itself that night when the phone rang and my dad explained to my grandmother that my mother had died. After my grandmother told me that my mother had passed away I was shocked. It seemed like everything was happening so quickly that I couldn’t emotionally process everything. I had just realized that I could have been there when she died but instead chose to go back to the house. Not staying with my mother that night when she passed away is the one regret that haunts me every day of my life. Looking back and thinking of the last few words spoken my mother was, “I will see you tomorrow…,” I realized that before she had passed away I had never gotten the chance to tell my mother goodbye. After experiencing these three days of my life I have one belief, I believe in saying goodbye.
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