When they came to take her away, I couldn’t let go. I made no commotion, no emotional plea; it was just my heart sinking all the way to my knees. I didn’t hold onto the gurney or throw myself on her lap; it just was my heart that walked towards her lifeless body stating to me, “I’m not doing this all alone!” “She’s been our number one supporter; what are we going to do?”
We had left early that morning driving two hundred miles to go visit a doctor for our broken hearts would not mend. My father pushed us stating, “She’ll be okay.” I would have never left, if I had known that when I came back, they would be taking her away.
She stopped breathing; it was just like her to try not to cause any pain. Even in the depth of her long deep illness, in the moments of clarity she would always ask, “Are you okay?” I could only respond, “It’s going to be okay.”
She fought injustices, stood up to the “CLAN” and she did it with dignity, rationale, and peace always a lady holding God’s hand. So after almost three years of prayer and of working towards letting her go, I have come to understand that she let go, when we were all away, so that we wouldn’t remember that last breath but to concentrate on the fact that we must always live life to the fullest and try not to complain because after all one day we will all be taken away.