With a New Keurig on the Way

A new Keurig was delivered to my mom's apartment the day she died. The day before, it was Emeril Lagasse steaks and a Christmas centerpiece for her dining room table (because she wanted to smell a little of the season). The next day, a box with three bottles of wine arrived. There were Christmas cards on her desk for the her handyman and the young woman who cleaned her apartment. Even though she had Stage 4 breast cancer and an abdominal aortic aneurysm, my mom insisted upon living until the day she died. She could have pulled up stakes and packed it in months, even years, ago, but she didn't. She chose life. Until death left her with no choice. 

The last "conversation" I had with my mom was about a woman. I put "conversation" in quotation marks because she was in no condition to listen much less talk. A ruptured abdominal aortic aneurysm is painful and Mom chose to slide out of life as pain-free as possible. By the time I arrived last Thursday night, she was well out of it - sleeping peacefully as only someone on a Dilaudid drip and snoring like a freight train can. She never woke up for more than a brief moment and never heard, nor contributed, to our conversation. It's ok. Really. It was the same conversation we'd had many, many (ok, too many) times. She knew my weakness; she'd read it in my blog and heard about it on the phone and in person for years. She would have laughed ruefully when I reassured her that she would genuinely like this one. "She's as talented and funny and smart as she is beautiful," I would have said. As if that would win Mom over to my latest cockamamie, 1,000,000 to 1 odds scheme.   At some point, she would have declared, "Stacee Ann" in a loud whisper with an equal mix of awe and disappointment, and asked me when I was going to learn. To which I would have responded, "Clearly not today." In the end, she would have rolled her eyes and exhaled knowing I was going to do exactly what I was going to do.

And you know.... I considered not doing it, not sending my latest confession via text message. I made the plan before I found out about my mom, even before she and  "spoke." But now my mom was dying just a few feet away. Her very next breath could have been her last and there I was crafting and re-crafting a text message. To a straight woman in a committed relationship more than a thousand miles away. A week later it sounds absolutely ridiculous....and yet so does the reason why I ended up sending it...barely an hour and a half before my mom actually did breathe her last. 

I honestly hope none of you out there have to experience what I did in the wee hours of the morning on Friday, December 20th. Watching someone dying, someone barely hanging on.... It's powerful. Hope gone, I was rendered powerless. All I could do was watch and wait.  My mom knew she was dying. She knew when they asked her how she wanted to manage the pain that she had two choices and neither of them would prolong her life exponentially. She chose peace. It was her one wish through all the illness that we just let her go and make it as peaceful as possible. Sitting there watching helplessly and all out of miracles, I was certain of one thing and only one thing.  I was alive. I could feel my heart beating, the occasional sting of tears in my eyes, the uncomfortable hospital issue recliner torturing my lower body. And if I was alive - a fact I was absolutely certain of - I needed to live. 

I hit send. And, look, it was far from my first rodeo; my illusions died long ago. Regardless of my intuition (a subject for another day), I knew the odds were against me. If I got a response north of "thx" (It's happened), I'd feel pretty ok with myself. And, look, let's be clear - My life is about far more than women and relationships (They are actually minuscule in comparison). It's about setting goals and fighting against all odds to reach them. Historically, I've failed as often as I've succeeded (I don't expect that pattern to change) because that's what happens when you put your money on a long shot. That's what happens when you truly live. 

Above all, I believe that life is about continuing to try. At least my life is. Because at the point that I stop trying, I'll have stopped living.  And more than anything, I'd like to go out like my mom did - peacefully...with a new Keurig on the way.