The Death of a Mother

Death of a Mother

Luz A. Rivera

She lied there panting; I can see she was struggling to hold on to life, mustering the strength to speak.  Little did I know it would be the last time I heard my mother’s voice.  Those words would stay in my head forever like a broken record, etched into my brain like a permanent serial number.  I tried to ease her pain while hiding mine. But it wasn’t the pain that made her suffer

She was tormented, but it wasn’t until the end that I would fully understand.

“ME MUERO!” I’M DYING

Her eyes shot open, bulging wildly, trying to focus on the world around her.  Not much time was left.  She had to make arrangements, had to protect the ones she loved.  But how could anyone with only minutes maybe even just seconds?

Frantically, I called out for Papi!  What else could I do?  He came running, urgency in his steps and action, knelt next to her in the blink of an eye.  They starred into each other’s eyes.  It seemed like forever, an eternity.  Nothing was said.  They seemed to be making preparations.  The intensity in their eyes held a story no-one would hear, I knew it must have certainly been spoken with love.

Then I heard it again.  That voice!  It resounds with me to this very day.  “QUIDAME LOS” (watch over them).  She gave her final instruction, prepared her departure.  He said nothing looking deep into her eyes.  Could he tell how much life was left in those dark, piercing eyes?

He gave her a nod, didn’t take her request lightly for with it she placed all the love, hopes, and dreams that remained in her heart.  He had eased her burden.  The pain melted from her face the moment she knew he understood.  He didn’t trust his voice to betray him so he just caressed her face as he had done countless times before.  With his nod, he had eased her burden, set her spirit free.

As Mami lay there, life slipping from her heart, ours was breaking, ripping, burning.  She can leave this place now.  Somehow with the last bit of strength left in her body or maybe it was sheer willpower—instinct, she had laid out her final plan. Quidame los nin~os, care for my children.  Is this every mother’s final wish, their true heart’s desire? 

She died a few minutes later.  We could all tell her fear had dissipated as soon as her plans had been set as peace settled upon her face.  Was it pain that anguished her or was she tormented by the need to protect her family?  She’s not here to answer these questions but in our hearts we know. 

My mother was the roots of our very existence that bound us together.  She left this world on Valentine’s Day, carefully calculating her departure on a day we celebrate love and friendship.  She will always be honored as a celebration of love, a Mother’s Love.