Tomorrow is Yahrzeit for Mom

The time really and truly does fly. Tomorrow marks half a decade since Sunny left us -- exactly two weeks after she had her 93rd birthday.

As I age, one year seems a short time, but half a decade?  I guess that amount of time enters the time compression perception, too.

Mom's end was mercifully short.  A few days before, she was in and out of consciousness, and having some trouble breathing. The social worker met with Wifey and I and we discussed hospice, which the Seasons Company (I loved their happy name even as we went through the tough decision) could provide right at Mom's bedside. But there was a problem, the worker said...

Mom's attending, Dr. Levine, as a frum Jew, and opposed to hospice, the worker said. He believed life should be prolonged with feeding tubes and ventilators for as long as possible. This is exactly opposed to Mom's wishes -- she was, like me, in favor of knowing when it's time to bow out. So I called Dr. Levine, and he tried to talk me out of it, in his comical Jackie Mason accent, which I had always thought strange, since he was Israeli and not Brooklynite.

I politely told him I understood and respected his wishes, but they were not ours, and if he preferred, I could have him replaced with another attending doc who would comply. Reluctantly, he signed the hospice order.  Who knows? Maybe he's right, and I cut off Mom's ticket to heaven. I guess I'll have an eternity to deal with that...

The hospice team started her on morphine, and the breathing difficulties stopped. She slept peacefully.  Wifey and I were with her most of that final Friday. Mirta, our angel friend, came later on, after we had left to get some sleep.

I remember being home and in bed late Friday and Mirta called -- they were late in a morphine dose, and she, in her tough ass Cubana way, made sure they brought it. Sunny got the morphine again, and rested.

Edna was in town, visiting her parents, and planned Saturday to go with Wifey to the home. Richard, my father in law was there, too, and loved to visit Sunny.

I got up early Saturday, April 27, 2013, and headed to MJH. I stopped for gas at the station right next door. While I was pumping, they called -- Sunny had just passed.

Coincidentally, Dr.  Barry had planned to visit. With my dark sense of humor, I told him he could see her, but it would be a quiet visit.  He met me at her room. She was gone, and the staff had already cleaned up, leaving the sickeningly sweet smell of the disinfectant.

One has to wonder if the Big Man sent Barry that day. He and Eric were my rocks when my Dad died -- and now Barry was there for me again for Mom's death.

As we were in the room, I heard Wifey and Edna coming up the hall, pushing Richard. I went out, and tried to sign them to turn around -- my late father in law was childlike when it came to death, and I wanted to spare him the sight.  I had tried calling Wifey, but her phone was unanswered in her back pocket. She took Richard back to his room, and returned with Edna.

The strapping young man from Neptune Society came pretty fast.  He needed no help lifting Mom into the blue velvet bag, and placing her on the gurney. By then, Wifey and Edna were back, and the women wept as they took her out of the room. Barry hugged me, hard.

I took us all to Soyka. D1 and her friend joined us. I knew there would be no funeral, so we treated that lunch as a memorial.  I had a few martinis, and toasted Sunny and her wonderful, loving life.

She had thought her life was over in 1982 when Dad died. Instead, she was given 31 additional years -- most of them awesome.

I knew her ashes would be sent in several days, and sure enough they arrived the Saturday before Mother's Day. D2 was home from UF.  I placed the box with her ashes on a shelf, and when Wifey and the Ds came in, asked how they rudely ignored their Grandma Sunny. They looked puzzled, and then gasped. It was their first time being near cremains -- another great word.

The next day, Sunday, we put Mom into the Bay, so be with her beloved Hy, whose cremains were placed in the Atlantic up the coast, off Pompano Beach. It's nice to think of them together again.

But has it really been 5 years? It has. Time flows so, so fast.