Ashes to Ashes...

I remember the day as if it were yesterday.  It was 10 years ago.

I remember getting home from the hospital with our brand new baby son, and calling home to let my mom know we had been discharged and were home. She and I were due to talk that afternoon so we could finalize her plans to fly down for a week or 10 days to meet Matthew and help us out.  You know - play "Grandma".

My stepdad called around 3PM to our home in Raleigh and was very upset on the phone.  He just kept telling me "your mom is not good, Jode.  She's not good". 

What do you mean "not good?"  What are YOU TALKING ABOUT?  I talked to her 12 times at least yesterday - what are you even saying?

He said he'd call me back when he knew more.

I had no clue what was going on.  No idea what had unravelled in their home that morning.  How she was so weak he found her collapsed in the bathroom.  The 911 call.  The ambulance ride...

Her entire body shutting down - losing the fight with metastatic breast cancer - that nobody knew had spread as far or as deep as it had.  For months she had been hiding it. 

I called everyone I could think of up there - trying to get more information.  Her friends, her doctor - finally the local hospital.

"Hi, my name is Jodi Sayles.  My mother is Eileen Hunt.  I think she's in your hospital.  I can't find her.  I can't find out what is going on.  I have a 2 day old infant - I need to know if I have to come home".

"Where are you?"

"I am in Raleigh, North Carolina.  Do I need to come home?  Can you tell me what is going on?  Can I talk to my mom?"

Silence.

"Honey - you are not going to get home in time."

Silence.

"What is going on??  Please, won't someone just tell me?"

Nurse Adele ( I will never forget her name, for as long as I live...) finally relented on the information sharing policy and told me her blood pressure was almost non existent and she was in agony. 

"Can I talk to her on the phone?" I asked.

"No.  You can't - she tells me she cannot talk to you.  She just cannot.  Jodi, she says she loves you, and she loves Ben, and please understand".

But I don't understand.

"Keep calling here.  Call the nurses station and ask for me and I will keep you as updated as I can.  You need to call your family - anyone close by and tell them to get here if they want to see her..."

I dropped the phone at this point and couldn't even talk anymore.  Ken has no idea what is really going on - I updated him...

I called my brother - who I am pretty sure didn't believe me until I lost my mind and started hysterically screaming on the phone that we were talking mere hours here - and if wanted to see her he needed to go NOW.  He lived 8 hours away and needed to drive.  I called my aunt, my uncle - it was the same - they were all in shock and thought I was losing my post partum mind.  I called my OB to see if it was even safe for me to travel/fly.  I had no idea.  (How we would get in and out of another country with a 2 day old child that had no paperwork was something I hadn't even processed.)

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Eileen Elizabeth died shortly after 8AM the morning of March 3rd.  It did leave a hole in my heart - that has healed little by little over time but not completely. 

When people say that the "would give anything, anything... for just one more hour, or day..." they mean it.  The things I could say, and ask - if just one more phone call or email was allowed or possible. 

My dad and Lorraine left Florida and headed to us as soon as they learned of what was going on.  I will be forever and ever grateful that they were there with us - to hold us, and feed us, and keep us moving forward.  Helping us keep Matthew alive, essentially - at this point - I was losing all track of time.  Lorraine - ever the organized woman took over the feeding charts and timing and kept me marching to that 3 hour drum for the better part of a week...

Our now best friends here, Kelly and Dick - left cookies on our doorstep for our travels... we were neighbours but hadn't met yet - they heard about what was going on through other neighbours.  They gave us an angel pin to put on Matthew's car seat. 

Air Canada was wonderful and booked my dad and I onto a flight leaving early Monday so we could attend the scheduled funeral.  Sunday night they called to tell us that the flights into Toronto were delayed due to weather - a massive storm up there.  Was rebooking us to the 1:10PM flight ok?

"No... her funeral is at 1PM, and it's 4 hours from Toronto by car to Bancroft.  I won't make it."

I won't make it.  I won't make it.  I can't be there... her funeral.  I can't be at her funeral.  I will NEVER see her again ever.  Ever.

It rips open again and I am lost for a while..

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We did make the trip north in April for the interment ceremony.  I learned my mom donated her corneas to give the gift of sight.  My extended family in Canada threw us a surprise shower while we were home, and we shared stories and tears and memories that day.  I am sure I didn't ever thank them enough for what they did, and I know that they likely have no idea how much it meant to have them all around. 

I am blessed with a wonderful step mom that is a mother to me in so many ways that even she cannot possibly imagine - and that DOES help. My dad and I are closer now that we ever were before... I don't tell him that often enough.  He really is my hero - faults and all.  He is my daddy.  I love him and will always need him.

It's been 10 years now - and in one sense it's gone by so fast.  There are times when I feel like nothing has changed - I could just pick up the phone and she'd be there.  I often dream about her - more often than not, it is the same dream over and over. She's in a hospital bed, but she's perky and chipper and she's holding Matthew as a baby and talking to everyone about him. 

That's a happy dream to keep having.  I am lucky.  I choose to think that somehow - it's her saying to me that she's ok... it's all good.  She's got him in her soul and he is watched over.

Always.