EL PASO, Texas (KTSM) — My mom passed away on September 28, 2002. This year will mark 22 years since we had our last conversations.
I remember that day like it was yesterday. Early Saturday morning, I found her lying upright in her bed with her eyes closed. She looked so peaceful.
Her journey home had begun three weeks before when she went into hospice care for congestive heart failure.
I remember her eyes, but I barely remember her voice. We had captured many memorable moments in pictures but never recorded her voice or asked her questions that would never be answered. If you have elderly parents, I suggest you have a real and frank conversation and record it.
As I spent several hours doing some fall cleaning, I found myself immersed in memories. I tossed out old papers, medications, separated clothes, and shoes I’m not wearing anymore to donate. Each item I discarded felt like a small step towards closure. I filled the gray bin with trash and the blue bin with recyclables.
In one of the drawers, I found a zip-lock bag with the house dress my mom was wearing the morning she died. I had put the blue cotton house dress with snap buttons away in the plastic to preserve her particular scent. A hospice nurse had written her name: Esther Casas.
I carefully opened the plastic and took a deep breath. Most of her scent is now gone. I quickly closed the bag to preserve what little scent is left
and put it back in the drawer.
I felt melancholy, but I used it as an opportunity to remember the three weeks she was in hospice care and the incredible team of family, friends, and hospice nurses who helped her transition home.
I miss you, Mom, and although I didn’t tell you “I love you” often enough, I hope my actions spoke louder than my words.
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