Journal entry by Michelle allen —
I was feeling so much better yesterday when I came home from the hospital. Unfortunately, when I woke up today, it was a struggle since opening my eyes. I’ve felt so nauseous and weak and shaky. I really hope that I can get my new oncologist rolling with ease and that the radiation and back brace will help with this nerve pain. 😢 Today I thought about my mother. I miss her so very much and wish she were here so I could just talk to her and hug her. My mom was not a crier, or a hugger, or a touchy-feelie type of person at all. But I know that when we did hug, all I felt was home. There’s just something about a moms hug that makes everything in the world feel alright. Even if it is for a fleeting moment. My poor mother was not even diagnosed with cancer until it was already spread through her bones and organs. I could never believe how strong and how much fight she had. The pain, that I now know all to well, that she dealt with all of the time. The fears, the heartache, the reflection of your life. I was always very evasive when it came to talking to her about cancer. She was an open book when it came to her thoughts on her life and death. She put together a binder with everything from A-Z that she wanted after she left this world. She had truly thought of everything. 😱 Everytime I went to see her, she’d try to bring it out and make me look at it. I always politely refused. I would tell her that I didn’t want to open it until the day she passed away. And I didn’t. We had that same conversation many times over and then one day....that conversation was never had again. I feel so very lucky to have been able to be with my mother when she passed. It was Thanksgiving and we knew it was her last. Her oncologist had ruled that the meds were no longer working and that she would live another 30-45 days maximum. At Christmas mom could barely sit up and speak. It was heart wrenching. The only happiness I could see shining through her eyes was when all of my brothers children and my kiddos would go in by her bedside and just sit next to her and watch cartoons. She looked like she was so peaceful during those moments. Even if one of the kids got out of sorts and had to be crabbed at by myself or my brother.
After Christmas Day and New Years came and left, I knew that when I left to go home, I would never see my mother alive again. It was a heart wrenching moment in time that I’ll never forget. I sat on the end of her bed and I told her that I wanted her to give me some places that her and my father used to go out to when they lived in Houston. (I was born there) I told her that Chris and I had hoped and plan to go see where I was born and revisit any special spots she could think of. She looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Michelle, unless you want to visit a bunch of bars, there wasn’t anywhere special. And I don’t want Janessa in any bars!” she then cracked a small smile and I was laughing hysterically ! The funny part about that conversation was that my mom was NEVER a drinker! Or at least when she raised my brother I she never drank. So the thought of my mother being in a bar was quite a comical thought. I hugged my mom, kissed her goodbye and headed home. My brother called exactly two days after I left, hospice nurses said my mom would live for 48-72 more hours. I went straight back to New York on a flight that evening and headed straight to the hospital. My brother James and I stayed with mom at the hospital for the next 48 hours. Our small family unit was all together at the very end. For eighteen years it was always just us three, and I am so thankful it was the three of us together as one of us passed. We each held moms hand and talked her through her final breaths. We both just stared at each other with tears welling and streaming. There are no words to say. There are a million and one emotions running through your heart and soul all at once. The fact that you literally just watched someone die, the fact that they are a part of your life you don’t know how to live without. The fear that it hurt her. The awful feeling of knowing she isn’t leaving the hospital with you this time. The relief that this inelfectuous and wretched disease did not have her any longer! That her pain was gone and did not hold her captive anymore. So many things. I spoke to her for a few moments and kissed her head and hand. I couldn’t leave her yet. I was just in awe how strong and hard this woman fought. How determined she was to live as long as possible regardless of the fact she could barely function due to the chemo and radiation and severe pain. My mother was not a perfect woman. Neither am I. But if I can show half of the courage and bravery she did, I will feel like maybe my children will remember me in such a way.
I digressed, my whole point to this was that, I miss my mom, and I wish I could ask her how she kept her chin up. How she fought so hard. How she held it together? How can she guide me. I love you so very much Susan C. Senn💞 You are remembered💞You are the bravest and strongest woman I have ever known💞 XOXOXO
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