Coffee, Casualties, and Coastal Comforts: Conclusion of Mom is Dying!

NOTE: For those who are just starting to read this blog, I recommend going back as you have time and doing them in numerical order. This section, Coffee, Casualties, and Coastal Comforts, is the continuation of the story before the Mardi Gras section, about when Mom was dying. These entries will be much shorter and talk about the simple comforts – many from living in the south- that kept me grounded.

COFFEE AND THE COAST! POST #15

We had gotten home late on the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Once again, we had been in Panama City because Mom was dying. In early October, she had gone into the hospital and we were told that she was going to die. The choice was this: surgery would prolong her life 2 days at the most, enough time for all of the kids and grandkids to fly into town; not having surgery would mean death before daybreak. We thought we had a choice in the matter – not that any really made that much difference. However, the doctor who, an hour before seemed resigned to her immanent death, came in and told us they were doing the surgery. We didn’t fight it. My siblings and all of our children began flying in one-by-one. After a few days, Mom woke up and was pretty adamant that she didn’t want to die. We knew it was inevitable, yet her valiant spirit fought against her broken-down body. Miraculously, she survived nearly two more months, giving us treasured time to prepare for the unavoidable.

It was Monday morning and Les had just left for work when I got the phone call that Mom had taken a turn for the worst during the night. Once again, the doctors said to call in the family. This time, only three of us kids (out of 8) could be there and only two grandchildren out of 12. I called Les and he rushed home. Shanon, who hated to miss school, quickly got ready with no complaints. Suddenly, here I was, pulling out the clothes that were set aside in the closet for this very time; an outfit for calling hours, a dress for the funeral, along with a weeks worth of clothes.

The morning was bright, warm, and sunny, not the grey gloom and doom it would have been in Syracuse, had this happened there. It was December 1, 2008. A friend, Paul Johnson, whom I hadn’t talked to since we moved, happened to call to see how we were doing as Shanon and I were getting ready to go. In my rush, calling people to share my pain wasn’t an option but I was sure glad Paul was on the phone. I was packing as we talked casually and he shared the past six months of his life. Then I shared ours and finished by saying, “and that brings us to this morning. I received a call 10 minutes before you called and….. “His comforting words and calm voice helped pull the pieces back together in my spinning, and out-of-control world.

I hadn’t had my coffee yet and, believe it or not, we stopped at Krispi Kreme on the way out of town. Food is never an option when I’m nervous or upset. For me, coffee is a comfort food, especially knowing that Mom and I shared a love for it. The drive is 3 ½ hours down the coast. With many trips back and forth trying various routes, we discovered that it takes the same amount or less time to drive the coastline rather than the highway. On this day, I needed the coastline because this holds many memories of days-gone-by with Mom. As the inevitable final goodbye awaited me on the other end, this drive down ‘memory lane’ was more important than ever.

Little things like coffee and driving the scenic route were what kept me grounded. Every half hour I called to make sure she was still alive. As we drove the coast from Pensacola on, memories flooded in of earlier days we had been to those very spots. In Destin, back in 2003 to visit a friend of Mom’s who lived right on the beach and had suffered a stroke. And then there was Greyton Beach, and Seaside, where Mom loved and we dreamed of living. As strange as it sounds, Seaside is off the main road by about 2 miles, yet, once again, that coffee call came as I knew we would be at the hospital in 20 minutes and it seemed so important – perhaps like a security blanket – to walk in with coffee in hand. Also, to connect with one of our favorite places, one that we had spent way too little time enjoying together.

We went to Seaside Starbucks and ordered 'to-go' coffees for Les and I and hot cocoa for Shanon and continued on the journey to Panama City, where death was waiting......