It's been two years since my mom died. I can still remember that odd feeling that I got when I woke up around 3 a.m or so, the night before. Early in the morning I got out of bed and went into the guest bedroom. Minutes later, I got a call, "Sam, your mom isn't waking up."
I hung up the phone and just didn't move looking out the window. It's not that this was a surprise or out of the realm of possibility but the fact that it just happened was not what I wanted to hear.
After arriving at my mom's apartment, I noticed a couple of police officers in the living room, and they stopped me asking me who I was. "I'm her son..." I went over to my mom and noticed how she appeared to be sleeping all curled up on her side. The police officers interviewed me and they determined that there was no foul play involved but that the medical examiner would be the final word.
I stepped outside onto the balcony and made the family call, call to my daughter's mom notifying her that I wouldn't be picking her up from school, and then a friend. I didn't have experience in this sort of thing and felt overwhelmed.
A grief counselor arrived but I was already in "things need to be done" mode. I may have offended her or so the look on her face seemed to reflect. My Aunt and Uncle said they would be down ASAP from up north. My friend and I drove to the funeral home, and cemetery place. I paid and that was done. I just wanted to get out of there.
Not having my own vehicle was a bummer as I was driving a sebring. It broke down the day before. We went to eat and kind of get my mind off things for a second. It didn't work but I appreciated the gesture.
The whole process after this just didn't go the way it should have, and I did the best that I could based on what I had to work with. It's something that I won't go into detail about since it serves no purpose.
My mom is buried exactly where she wanted - next to my dad, both in a better place. We'll see each other one of these days, sooner or later.