Two months, 15 days, and 22 hours.
That's how long mom has been gone. That's how long I have held it together, planned and spoke at her funeral, kept my cool. I have organized cleaning parties, taken on a new job (which I LOVE!!!), got my first kiss, and started dating the man of my dreams. Two months, 15 days, 21 hours and 54 minutes. Six minutes ago I locked up Momma's house for the last time. Closing not only a door but a chapter in my story. Locked up in this house is six years of memories, six years of Andy Griffith marathons. Six years of intense family drama, of crying and mourning. The place Jennie sat for her last family Christmas on earth. Six years in college, THIS was the house I came home to. THIS is the house mom became a patient. THIS is the house she wanted to stay in until the moment before her last breath. Seven months of taking intense care of a momma who didn't know how to accept care. Seven months of appointments, naps, late nights, and Chinese delivery. Seven months of grilled veggies. Zucchini, broccoli, mushrooms, asparagus to boot. Ha! Veggies! Momma always craved the strangest veggies. She loved sauerkraut, beets, and huge pickles. I remember the day I realized cancer stole her tongue. We grew up with ice cream as a main course. "As many scoops as it takes to fill the bowl" was a common phrase echoed in our home. I asked mom if she wanted me to go get us some ice cream. She took two bites of her vanilla bean delight and her nose crinkled up. The bowl of ice cream sat and melted away to nothing. Cold and white. My soul felt kind of the way her ice cream looked. Cold, the coldest it's been. White, lost in a fog. So where am I? To be honest, I am not totally sure. But I'll keep trekking. And now that momma's house is cleaned and locked up along with her Scooby Doo copy of the house key. Now that she is buried and I am working at a job I love and I am being loved by a really sweet, cool, hilarious, and compassionate guy. Now that I am certain the world will never quite be the same without momma, I am ready to grieve.
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She begins to grow more cold, each breath grows farther and farther apart. More shallow, and impossibly more shallow as the seconds tick by.
I hold Momma's hand. I squeeze it three times. Hoping with everything in me she will feel it and she will respond. She doesn't. She wants to. She cannot. I am rubbing Momma's head. Tucking stray hairs behind her ear. Ever so gently pressing my thumb up the bridge if her nose, between her eyebrows, to her hair line. All the while whispering through gritted teeth and foggy eyes. "It's ok, Momma. It's ok Momma. You can go. You can go rest. You've worked hard, it's time Momma." I bent down and kissed her forehead twice. Firm and sweet. She was dressed in white, was escorted by her dad and best friend, down the aisle to her Love. Jesus stood at the end of the pews beaming from ear to ear. Momma continued down the aisle. She smiled, certainly confused but surprisingly content. Each step careful and precise. Was she really walking again? On her own none the less? Being held by her daddy? Walking to her Father? "You are so beautiful" Jesus whispered in Momma's ear. "You were a good and faithful and hardworking servant." Momma wept as she began to drink in what was going on around her. She is whole. Her body, perfect, healed. She took a step closer to Jesus. Jesus reached up to Momma's face and gently wiped the tears from her eyes. His hands are strong but soft; he holds the back of Momma's head. And ever so gently runs his fingers through her hair. He gently kissed her forehead twice and squeezed her hand. He whispered to her "It's ok my child. It's ok my daughter. It's ok precious one. You can come. You can come. Let me take your burden. It's time, Diane. It's time." Momma passed away today at 4:10pm. She was my best friend and biggest fan. I am the luckiest girl in the world to have even been loved and taught by her. Momma is hands down, no competition, the strongest woman I have ever known. Y'all. I'm not just saying that because she's dying or because she's my mom. Dozens and dozens of family members, friends, co-workers, and some strangers agree.
Several times during the evening and into the night we were sure she was going to go. As of noon today Momma is still breathing. Breathing in and out. Slow and sure, shallow breaths. With each exhale releasing the most painful, ear-scorching moan. The nurses said at midnight she should have been gone HOURS AGO. One even told her "it's ok. You can go now, Diane." And they asked us: "is she waiting for anyone?" We don't know. But what we do know is that she is in excruciating pain. The hospice team has taken palliative steps to help relieve some of her agony. I am so thankful for the incredible staff here. Tiredness, exhaustion, sadness, joy, pain. Emotions that have taken over my body. I am operating fully on the grace of God and espresso. Please continue praying for an extra measure of patience and peace. Have you ever prepped yourself for meeting someone famous? Someome you really admire or look up to? If someone told me I was going to meet Queen Latifah or Adele, or Kevin James or Beyoncé or my favorite hip hop artist J-Thrill, or oh! Jamie Tworsowski I would FLIP OUT. I would be jumping up and down all day, everyday. I would plan out speaking points, I would bring them coffee, I would plan my handshake or hug depending on if I think they would go for that sort of thing. When first met my very favorite minister, I was terrified. I'm even embarrassed as I write this now. Simply because him and his family have become friends of mine. I was was so excited and so nervous. He was my very favorite preacher, he speaks the truth with grace and excellece, taking lofty theories and breaking them down for his congregations. But has a way to speak with a deep and sincere love for everyone. I cannot really explain now why I was so nervous. Nonetheless. I planned every word I was going to say. Exactly how I was going to shake his hand. Confident. Strong. When I met him and his beautiful wife, our conversation was less than special. I ended up tripping my way through my name and major. I think I told them I was related to John Wilkes Booth and I was a Scorpio. ¿¿¿¿ Oh and do not even get me started on the handshake. I completely tripped on my left foot and almost knocked them over like bowling pins. Ugh, classic Mol. That excitement and worry and planning all went in to meeting just this normal Jesus loving homie. And that's sort of how I feel saying goodbye to Momma. Only this time I have no idea what I want to say. You all may not believe me but I'm at a loss for words. Ha! It's not that you all are not independently important to me but I can almost guarantee the words I say or type to you are not as important to me, in this moment, as the words I say to her before she leaves us. I'm giddy, I'm nervous, the feelings of excitement are more of a somber anxiety, instead of a firm handshake maybe just a light squeeze to her beautiful hands, I'm not jumping up and down because that's not super appropriate at the Hospice House. I'm honored that I have been given the last seven months to talk to Momma and say everything several times over. I am positive she is leaving this earth knowing she is deeply loved and cared for. I am positive she is leaving this earth knowing she is going to a place where she is already deeply loved, a place she will receive the best possible care. Ha! I can only imagine that Momma is feeling the same way as us. She is nervous and excited and giddy and so happy and so full of joy. She is probably practicing what she is going to say, her curtsy, her wave, her firm and confident handshake. Because Momma GETS TO MEET THE CREATOR OF THE UNIVERSE SO SOON. Momma gets to meet our Savior. Momma gets to meet the Spirit. HA!!! She will probably make God laugh. He will tell her that she was a good and faithful servant. And He will hold her and wipe away all of her tears. And that sounds like the best meet cute in the whole entire world!!!!!!!!!! "Heh heh heh. Mom I get it. You're joking. Heh. You can stop any time now. Heh." -@Lorettaiskray (Loretta Kraling)
It is April Fools day; a day jokers live for. A normal day wrapped up in laughs. Decorated with whoopie cushions and fake cat poop. Today I plan to take orders at Jitters and tell people they owe $1274.23 for their Carmel Macchiottos. We'll all laugh, they'll pay $4.99 and leave me a penny for a tip. You know who is the biggest fool? Satan. That guys a total tool. he is not going to win today. He will not to come, kill, lie, and destroy. We reuse to let him. he will not kill my joy. he will not steal our last laughs. he will not even steal mom's last breath. he will not destroy our memories. Momma was taken to Hospice early this morning. Loretta, Emmy, and I didn't catch a wink of sleep last night. All separately staring at the ceiling, with the quite understanding that this was Momma's last night in her home. Her last night in her beloved recliner. We were covered by night. I shed a few silent tears. I didn't wipe them away. I just let them fall on my pillow, scared to move. As if the slightest movement would move time along too quickly. Again back to damn time. Momma was transported to Hospice by three of her brothers. One of her little brothers, Dan, somehow got in contact with a man with an old transport bus. It had a wheelchair lift. Everything went so smoothly. She was confused, only for a moment. We just kept whispering "ok momma, it's time for our next adventure. Are you ready?" And I think she understood exactly where she was going- she completely understood the next steps in this process. She was there for only an hour before they decided to move her drone "respite" care to full "acute" care. Momma's eyes are glossy, she cannot hold contact, she definetly can no longer squeeze my hand, her body is deleicate and in so much pain. The slightest nudge sends her into a series of "ow ow ow ow ow"s. And yet, she just keeps beeming. She keeps smiling, big, bright. Totally cheesin. I cannot imagine the excruciating pain she is in. Her body is shutting down. Her organs, one by one, each cell is shutting down, is.... dying. i am sad. i am frustrated. i am lonely. i am angry. But i also feel a deep and abiding joy. i see Momma's preserving smile and i know we are going to be ok. Momma will rise again. Momma will walk again. And she will fly. we are are able to rise for no other reason than because He is risen. Yesterday I told momma she was absolutely beautiful.
She scoffed, told me to shut the hell up (in her new found "mush" language) and then smiled from ear to ear. Today or tomorrow we are taking Momma to Hospice. There really no other words right now. I'll keep you updated. It's not that I want to be the lone leader.
It's not that I am hell-bent on standing on my own, holding my own, feeling alone, alone holding the weight of everyone. It is the fact that I am who I am. Who my Momma has raised me to be. I am strong I am independent I can feel just as long as it's not with anyone else. I can weep as long as it's in my dark, cold room high atop a mountain of blankets and pillows. I can wail as long as it's at the wall of my heart. Boxed up, banged up, bruised up. A massive sea of dysfunction, a shit show, that's the shape of my heart. I feel like an orphan. For most of my life my Momma has been my Momma and Dad. Now for most of the rest of my life, I will be without. Lacking the one who soothed me goodnight. Lacking the one who encouraged me to be Molly. Lacking the one who inspired me to inspire. Lacking the one who taught me who I am. Lacking the one who provided. Who carried. Who bled, sweat, and wept so we would have everything we could need- and so much more. Alone. Left to carry the weight. Mom is almost gone. And I'm frustrated. Caught in this circle of death. It just keeps circling and circling and circling and I'm caught in the undertow of this current. Attempting to understand why. And understanding that even if I don't understand, He is still good. I'm frustrated because OH MY WORD does no one want to feel with me? I'm frustrated because B told me he knew, he knew what he was digging into. He understood the life I led, the family I led, the person who led me. He told me he chose me, was crazy about me, but in the end, it was still me but me wasn't enough. Maybe me was too much? And here I am, alone. Out on the end of a pirates plank. Toes curled over the rickety board. Splintering. My knees shake as I bend over mom's bed. My fingers tremble as I touch her fragile skin. My lips quiver as I kiss her forehead. My eyes drenched from the memories that flood over me. I am sunk. She has maybe a week now. Signs of the end of time are starting show clear now. Symptoms of "death" grow astronomically every hour. My mom is no longer to focus her eyes on me. Her eyes, instead gloss completely over me. Almost as if she is looking through me. We are no longer the main attraction, there is something beyond we aren't attune to. She cannot hold my hand anymore, momma cannot squeeze my hand three times to tell me, in our own very special and private and silent way, that she loves me. Momma can no longer put together a full sentence. She says a few of the same words on repeat. Sounding remarkably similar to my heavily scratched Backstreet Boys Millennium CD. Her words, while jumbled and repetitive, resemble an almost rhythmic chorus. Today she did not eat a single thing, she hardly drank a drop. And she certainly has not "voided" in over 24 hours. Soon there will be no more soon. It will just be "now." I'm resting in the soon. i found some words. And as i type this, i am beginning to choke up. It hit me. it finally, maybe for the first real time, hit me. i was in sitting on her fancy red walker on the fold down seat, in the dark, just listening to her breathe. Mom is going to be gone soon. GONE. Momma will not get to come watch me graduate from graduate school, she won't get to watch me open my first coffee shop, she won't get to see my baby with down syndrome graduate pre-school, high school, college. She won't be at my wedding, help me paint my first home. I won't get to watch her grow old, join old lady clubs like aqua Zumba, I won't get to see her retire in Malibu. Yesterday Hospice came. Very kind people. People dedicated to the cause of dignity and grace. But people I don't necessarily want to know, people I don't necessarily want in Momma's home. No way MY mom is ready to be cared for by Hospice. Diane Doris Kraling? Oh hell no. She is the strongest, most independent, most private person i know. No way were we ready for Hospice to be here already. But, nonetheless, they came. And they left a pamphlet. Here is a picture of one of the very last two pages in this book. Above is a chart outlining the best guess on how much longer mom has based on symptoms she is currently undergoing. And as of right this minute, it looks as if mom has one-three weeks left. Seven days. i am allowing that number to sink in. To engulf me, wash over me. And i feel nothing but heaviness, like at any moment i could sink to the bottom and not resurface. I've been noticing lately how fast time seems to move. Completely unfazed by the pain around it. Not even the pain it causes. Just keeps ticking away, the hands chug around the clock like they are part of the Indy 500. I think I finally understand what the author of Ecclesiastes meant when he wrote: "Meaningless, its all just meaningless." I know. If you know me or have even read a couple other blog posts of mine you are probably thinking "what the junk?! Molly Kraling scoffing, frowning, admitting something just might be not worth it?" Hell yeah. I am over it, time is meaningless right now to me. I loathe time and in the very same breath, I envy time. And it is simply because when time is not on your side, (which, by the way, seems to be the case more often than not) you are battling the universe. And a battle against the universe is a losing war. I want to just sit in a dark room and listen to my Momma snore. Listen to her breathe and moan. I want to hold her hand taking mental snapshots of everything. I have to remember these moments. I must remember these moments. Regardless of stupid time, i must soak in every last minute I have with her on this side of forever. A couple years back i wrote a three piece blog post on time. Give it a read if you want!
I have no words to say today.
But someone I admire, my very favorite professor, Chad Ragsdale, has something incredible to say. Read it here: "If we want Momma to be pain free, we have to keep giving her morphine.
If she takes morphine than she stops being Momma." That was a text I sent to Loretta a few days back. Momma stopped being Momma yesterday. She is almost all together a different person, kind of like a child, confused, and fragile. And hilarious. Oh my word, so funny. If I knew how to share a video on here I would show you just how funny this medicine is making her. But she is out of pain. Yesterday morning she woke up and exclaimed: "That was the best night sleep I have had since I got this dumb ass cancer." The hallucinations of bats, snakes, gnats, and other "animals" have almost come to a screeching halt. So Momma not being Momma anymore is worth it. I am not sure what else to write here to be honest with you. Other than there is a deep sinking feeling in my gut as I am starting to process that my Momma is nearly gone. While, perhaps, not physically from this earth yet, certainly from her mind. For some this will be easier to imagine, you've experienced this same fear, this same situation once or twice, but imagine with me that the person who raised you, provided everything you ever needed with her own hands. The person who insisted that the weight of your world would on her shoulders, even when she could carry no more. That person, that Momma. Gone. But thats ok. Because heaven. Somewhere I have been forced to think about more and more is heaven. Kyle Idelman preached a message on Heaven that I cannot seem to shake. Kyle showed us that while John didn't give readers a lot of information on would be in heaven, he did record what would would not be there. Revelation 21:4-5 "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore for the former things have passed away. And he who was seated on the throne said, "Behold, I am making all things new." John's list inspired Kyle to write a list of his own. Here's what he said: "In heaven there will be.. no more crying, no more pain, no more death, no more cancer, no more divorce, no more bandaids, no more pacemakers, no more school shootings, no more depression, no more abortion, no more hurricanes, no more double chins, no more yelling, no more abuse, no more crash diets, no more spanx, no more drama, no more rape, no more injustice, infomercials, comparison, amber alerts, doctors, taxes, lawyers, elections, no more clowns with chain saws, no more mean kids, orphanages, broken homes, tiny caskets, no more sin..." Here is what I say: If there is one thing that must be in Heaven waiting for Momma... it is our Father. Ready to wipe away our tears and hold us tight. Ready to heal Momma, ready to hold Momma, wipe away her pain, take down the burdens from her shoulders, to be a Dad to my Mom. Momma is not Momma anymore, but she will be in a coming tomorrow. |
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June 2017
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