When I was a teenager, my mother was very sick. She was diabetic and had congestive heart failure. She spent much of the last two years of her life in the hospital, and when not there, she would go to a different doctor almost everyday. She had her left leg amputated just below the knee in the summer of 1998, and the right leg just below the knee in the spring of 1999.
I would take my mom to dialysis a few times per week. Some of my best memories are of going to eat at Shoney's on Saturday mornings after her dialysis treatment was through. We would sit there and talk about whatever came up. It was just my mom and me, and we both loved it. Every once in a while my brother or my grandmother would come with us, but it was usually just my mom and me, and I loved it like that.
The Greatest Moment of My Life
Another one of my greatest memories is the day that she decided she was strong enough to walk outside with her prosthesis. She would usually stay inside, but on this particular day, she decided that she would go further. She walked into the garage, down the sloped driveway to the sidewalk, all the way along the sidewalk to the mailbox in front of the house, and all the way back inside, by herself. I was standing behind her the entire time to make sure she didn't fall, but I never touched her. She did all of that by herself. Seeing the look on her face is still to this day the single greatest moment of my life. It is the one thing that is better than the day I got married and the day that my son was born.
The Beginning of the End
The failure alluded to in the title came in my inability to visit my mother while she was in the hospital. I would only visit about twice per week, and even then I didn't stay as long as I should have. It was partly because I couldn't stand to see my own mother in that condition, and partly because I was a child and so thought that we had more time.
I knew that I should have gone more, but I was dealing with my own problems. Unfortunately as a child our brains have not yet developed to the point of empathy for the suffering of others. We are totally self-absorbed at that age, and this led to me treating the situation as if was not as big of a deal as it actually was. When I look back on those days, all I can think about is my mother sitting, all alone in the hospital room, doped up on whatever pain medicine they decided to give her that day. I have since been in that same position, and I would give up everything that I have and will have in the future if I could go back and sit with her during those times. Every time that I think of this I think about a line from the Janis Joplin song "Bobby McGee" - "I'd give up all my tomorrows for that single yesterday." I know now how lonely and scary it is to sit there by yourself, not knowing if you'll ever make it home.
The Worst Moment of My Life
I was lucky, I made it home numerous times. My mother, on the other hand, did not. She died alone in the hospital one night, my father at home sleeping since he had worked almost 24 hours straight that day, and me at a friends house.
I was with a group of friends watching the movie "Enemy of the State" with Will Smith and Gene Hackman when my father paged me. I never even called him back because I somehow knew why he tried to get in touch with me. I rushed home as fast as my truck would go, not carrying about the speed limit or the consequences of my actions. I ran through the door at 1:03 in the morning, June 28th, 1999 and my father was waiting for me. Before he could speak I asked what has happened to mom, and he sat me down and told me she had passed away a few minutes before he paged.
I was devastated. How could she be dead? What the hell happened? Aren't we supposed to be a family? I'm leaving to go to college in a month! She is so excited for me! Why in the hell won't she be able to bring me to LSU dammit?!? What in the hell am I supposed to do now?
No one knew it would happen that night. The doctor's thought that she was just having a rough time, as she had done so many other times before. But it just so happened that this was her last night on Earth.
As I said earlier, I would give up everything just to have the chance to sit with her in that hospital room. I wouldn't even have to say anything. Just sit there and let her know that I was there for her, know that I cared. It still to his day brings me to tears when I think about her sitting there, all alone, most likely feeling like no one cared, like her own child didn't love her enough to come and see her.
Lessons Learned
But this isn't to be. We can't go back. But, we can learn from our mistakes. I have learned that we don't have all the time in the world, and that are actions have consequences. Since then I have made many other mistakes, but that time in my life taught me how to see the lessons in each failure. I now know how to find these lessons, and how to apply them to my life so that I don't make them again.
I still have a long, long way to go to be the person she wanted me to be, but I am working on it. I will not give up until I reach my goals. My mother taught me this. She taught me that no matter how horrible things get, there is always hope. She never gave up, and that is why she lived 4 years longer than the doctors thought she would. After seeing her extreme strength, I know that I can get through anything.
Today, my wife stands behind me in everything that I do. She lost her father at a young age so understands how I feel. She knows that I am an extremely strong person, but that I need someone there for me every once in a while. She is my rock, and after seeing everything that my mother went through, I will never, never take a single day with Jessi for granted. She stood beside me while I fought with Crohn's. And yes, she sat with me every day in the hospital. She has carried on teaching me the lessons my mother tried to teach me: Every day is a gift, so don't take anything for granted. Tomorrow never gets here, so all we have is today. If you wait until tomorrow, you will never accomplish anything. Seize the day.
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