Mother to the End

I am writing my mother's obituary. As much as this is a moment that is natural and circle-of-life, it is at the same time the stuff nightmares are made of. I'm staring at a blank page. How do I begin? 66 years of life thrown into type doesn't seem feasible. The complicated and beautiful and hard and ultimately deeply loving mother/daughter relationship ended and somehow fit into words. Impossible.

Our relationship was just that-complicated. There was so much emotion, for better, for worse, but when I simplify everything, as life and death moments require you to do, I see all that mattered. My Mother loved me. Beyond measure. During her last moments, she worried that I hadn't eaten and insisted I finish her soup. I did, and it was awful. Depite that, I drank every last drop as she no longer had the strength to. She wanted me to go home, get some rest. She could barely speak the words and yet, she devoted the last of her energy to them. Simply put, she was a mother to the very end.

When I think of my last moments, I hope my son can say the same.