DAY FIVE, YEAR FIVE: JANUARY 1, 1997 – JUNE 4, 1997
By Michael Sean McHale
1997 was an extremely hard year for me. Lots of ups and downs. Mostly downs. ☹
It will be in two parts.
Earlier in the year I was dating a very sweet man named Marc. Most of the first half of the year was spent with him and running my Mystery company. My mother and I had a many conversations about her plan to move out to Los Angeles and make it her home with me. I was very very excited to have my best friend on the west coast with me. While she was making her plans though, sadly, her oldest younger brother, my Uncle Butch passed away. My beautiful mother, being the caregiver that she has always been since birth, took care of everything and kept the family together on the east coast. Then, before she knew it, she herself was becoming ill. She had been ill a number of times since I moved to LA but she always bounced back. This recent battle had me concerned and I spoke with my friend Dee Wallace about it. I told her quite honestly that this time felt different and I wasn’t sure it she was going to make it. Dee told me that if I truly believed this that I had to prepare myself for that moment. She then gave me one of the most honest and saddest pieces of advice I have ever received to this day. She told me, “Your mother is staying her for you. If you don’t let her go, she will not leave this plane.” My heart sunk but I knew it to be the absolute truth.
Just days later I got a call from my grandmother that my mother had been rushed to hospital. She was reached up to put curtains up in her new apartment and something in her stomach ‘popped’. Sadly because of her size (550 pounds), she would not fit into the MRI machine so they didn’t know what to do. I called the hospital and demanded to speak with my mother. They said “She’s being rushed into surgery!” I said, “I don’t care! PUT-HER-ON-THE-PHONE!” They did. ☹ She was breathing heavily and I asked her, “How you doing honey?” She wheezed with a slight chuckle, “Not so good.” I tried to hold back tears. “Everything is going to be okay soon. You’re not going to be in anymore pain.” “I know.” She wheezed. “Mom, I love you so much.” My heart was breaking with each word. She struggled, “I love you too.” And that was the last time we spoke. On THIS plane.
I went into my bedroom and screamed and screamed and took about a hundred deep breaths in and out in between wailing and moaning. Yes! That’s a thing! I cried out to the Big Guy, “Alright! Alright! I’ll let her go…” Tears streamed like rivers down my face, “MOM!!!! I let you go! Go! No more pain baby!” I sobbed what seemed like forever and was interrupted by my phone ringing…One of those ‘land line’ things…
I picked up the phone. My mother passed away at the precise moment I had let her go. ☹
To be continued……
