I’ve divided this chapter into 3 parts because it is so long. Here is the second part.
Soon after the arrival of the police, my husband quickly pulled into the parking lot engulfing me in a hug with an apologetic word. He took over talking with the police after I gave them my initial statement. Hubby knew I was running on adrenaline but didn’t need to relive the moment of finding Mom over again.
Thus, began my pacing of the apartment complex while calling my aunt who was her only sibling who was still living, my best friend, and the funeral home. Since I am the only surviving child of my mom, I posted the news of her death to Facebook. I didn’t want to call everyone.
I must have paced at least a mile during the time, the police were checking out the apartment. People began to gather and ask me questions about what had happened. One was sympathetic telling me how much she enjoyed my mom while a couple of guys were invasive like a mosquito trying to find a food source. They didn’t help me while I was still in shock.
After what seemed like forever, the police gave me the okay to leave the complex before the funeral home came to pick up Mom’s body. They understood my need not to be there because I already had the awful image of her lying dead on the floor.
As I drove off to do my Saturday errands, anger began to fill my heart. I was angry with my mom for various reasons. I needed to heal from that anger but how was I going to do that? My mom didn’t let me know how sick she really was the week before. My question is why did she do that to me? It wasn’t’ the first time she disappointed me, but it was the last time. In order to heal, I needed to learn to forgive her.
Yes, I did my errands because I needed some things to feel normal even at that moment my world was falling apart.
Oh, before I forget. I never made that appointment with the pediatrician. My oldest read about his condition and realized what I was trying to do the night before. Even though he didn’t go to the game, he did go to the Homecoming dance. He did see HER which was a disaster but that is his story, not mine.
I walked into Aldi’s that morning numb from the shock of finding my mom had died. This Aldi was shut down after the devastating Memorial Day tornados. During the time it was shut down because of the rebuilding, Mom and I decided to take a tour of local Aldi’s. At that time, it was appropriate for me to be there.
As the cashier checked me out, I asked her if she needed to see my license because I was buying some alcoholic drinks. She responded with “I recognize you, so you are okay.”
With a shaky voice, I told her that she wouldn’t see my mom anymore because she had died.
“Oh, no. Let me give you a hug,” she told me as she got up from her seat. In the middle of Aldi in front of strangers who were waiting to cash out, she hugged me and allowed me to cry on her shoulder. A mere stranger became a messenger from God during a time I needed someone to remind me, “You are one of his 100 sheep. I have found you and bringing you home right now.”
To be continued . . .