Can I sit on your lap?

Heebie’s recent posts have brought back a flood of memories of when my mother had her heart attack. Even though it’s been five years, thinking of the experience still evokes the feeling of fear, loneliness and the distinct wish that I could be a little kid again- when Mommy could fix everything.

The day she had her heart attack I’d skipped the usual morning phone call (I usually talk to Mom every morning) so I could get my errands run early. JP was about 19-months old and, once we were done, I took him outside to play. I remember we were having a lot of fun and thinking it had been a really wonderful day with him. I’d gone inside to get him a drink and the phone was ringing. Mr. Tonks was on the other end of the line and the only thing that is crystal clear is him telling me Mom had had a heart attack, she was in surgery and that I needed to go. I literally fell on my knees and had 30-seconds of freaking out before I ran outside, scooped up JP and headed to the hospital. I called my aunt, my best friend Annie and my mom’s best friend on the way. The only experience I’d had with heart attacks was when Annie’s dad had one our senior year of high school. He lingered for a few weeks before dying. I was terrified. 

Once she was in her room she kept assuring us that everything was alright, it was a minor heart attack and that everything would be fine. She looked very small and grey. Her hair was wilted across her forehead and it seemed like the lines in her face had been etched deeper. We couldn’t have been further from “fine.” Nothing would ever be “fine” again.

You see, moms aren’t supposed to get sick. Moms aren’t supposed to get old. Moms don’t die. Moms have super powers. They can fix anything. They could be struck with the black plague and still make dinner. Moms are supposed to live forever. 

For weeks afterwards I would stand in the shower every night and cry. I thought I would have years before either of my parents becoming ill or dying would even be a possibility. Instead I was 25, Mom was 53 and a nasty harsh reality was staring me in the face. 

Once, after my grandparents died, my mom told me she felt like an orphan. At the time I though she was absurd. She was an adult and had both of her parents for over 40-years. She was the furthest thing from an orphan- or so I thought. I get it now. I get how even when you’re an adult, there are times when you just want your mom. And I realize that on the day when I will need her more than anyone else in the world, that will be the day when I can’t have her and that…that thought just hurts like hell. Moms are supposed to live forever.