It's been since the 16th of September
in 2015. Mom's been gone for that long. Her death happened
unexpectedly, and suddenly. Her heart broke – physically and irreparably, early one morning; the morning of July 8th, 2015.
At that time, I lived with Mom. I
had moved in with her from my apartment in New Philadelphia, and
after working and living in Cleveland before then. When Mom got sick,
I was still living there.
Gene, her husband, had passed in October of 2000. But, she was doing well living by
herself. Since she lived alone, it made sense for someone to stay
with her and provide whatever help and sense of protection we could. I
visited often before I stayed at her home. Her two other sons visited, too. Her sisters and brothers
would visit her a lot.
Since Mom lived alone, I thought I
might be able to help her, even if I struggled with my own injuries.
She surely helped me when I needed assistance after I was a passenger
in a single car accident in late January of 1983. I hoped I could help
her, just as she and Gene had helped me. And she would keep on
helping me for many years afterward. That is just the way she was. I
am proud to call her my mother.
Financially, she seemed to be making
it. The house was paid for, but she had a second mortgage for another
reason – her own reason. I never questioned nor asked about it. It
was none of my business. Sometimes she would be a little short on
cash and I would help, if and when I could. I receive Social Security
Disability Income since I have been unable to work after my car
accident. So, my income had become limited.
On that Wednesday morning of July 8th
in 2015, while I was still in my upstairs bed, I heard her talking on
the telephone. Shortly after she hung the phone up and set it aside
on the kitchen table, I heard her call out to my brother to call an
ambulance. Her heart was broken. Neither me nor my brother knew what
had happened. Eugene called the ambulance and I came downstairs to
find out what to do.
The ambulance came to get her. We
followed her to the hospital. After admitting her and doing what the
hospital does, the process of sorting through everything and
searching for the proper records would be mandatory. Of course, we
called the rest of the family. None of us were sure of what happened.
Mom appeared to be very well before that incident.
After a few awkward conversations, Mom
was transported to the Canton Mercy Hospital. They had worked on her
heart in 2003, surgically performing a quadruple bypass. So, many of her health
records were at that hospital. That was the logical choice, to send
her to Mercy hospital.
