Few my mother was no giant by

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Few things in our lives will ever prepare us
emotionally, for the death of a loved one. The sadness,
anger, and comfort that fills the heart cannot be imagined.
It was within the last five minutes of my mothers life, that
I realized that I was not prepared. As I stood on the side
of the bed and watched her gasp for precious air, my
My first thoughts became those that were filled with
sadness. I felt deep sadness and regret, and wondered if my
mother ever knew how much I idolized her. Did I really ever
return the love and care that she gave me? My eyes saw
sadness when looking at the lifeless figure of wrinkled skin
that my mother had become. This by no means was the same
woman who used to wrestle with me and my brothers, and beat
us all. No way could it be the same strong woman, that used
to play tackle football with me when I was little.
I remember one time, when I was about 8 or 9 years old,
I came into the house crying. My mother asked me what was
wrong. I told her that my two older brothers were ganging
up on me in tackle football. She asked the usual mother
questions, and when she found out that they had chosen the
teams as them against me, I quickly had a new teammate. She
grabbed my hand smiling and then we marched outside, with
her striding like a defensive lineman going up to receive
her most valuable trophy award. As soon as my brothers saw
her come around the corner of the house, with my hand in
hers, they knew that it was a whole new ballgame.
Now my mother was no giant by any means. She was 51
tall and about 140 pounds, but on the first play of
scrimmage, I hiked the ball to my mother and she went around
the right end running over both my brothers. Not only did
she run them both over, but then she even taunted them with
the ball. Both my brothers got up holding various body parts
and cringing in pain. Though she told them that she didnt
mean to hurt them, we all knew the truth. It was only a
little retribution for me, and to let them know that she
didnt approve of their unfair tactics. On the ensuing
kickoff, my brother Wes tried to block my mother, it was a
foolish attempt. My mother tossed him aside like a hay bale
being thrown in the loft, and then proceeded to make my
other brothers body become one with the ground. That would
be the last play of the game, as both my brothers started
whining about how unfair the teams were. It was just what
she had wanted to make them understand. As my teammate and
I went into the house, I had gained a new appreciation of
her. It was sad to see what used to be a vibrant, dark-
haired, attractive woman, turn into a living corpse void of
any coherent thoughts. As I processed these thoughts of
I was mad! Why in the hell did I have to lose my
mother, my teammate? Why god, why her? God had chosen
the one person that had been a steady and very influencing
factor in my life to join his band of angels. All my
beliefs, values and ethics were strong willed from the hand
of mom. I was mad at the fact that my mother was being
consumed, eaten, by a disease that didnt play fair. My
anger only grew worse when I started to think of the pain
and suffering that she must be enduring or had endured. Why
does she have to lie her and struggle to live? Why the hell
isnt the brain smart enough to know when to shut of the
autonomic response and rest in peace?
As my mothers breathing increased even faster, I
started to feel comfort in the fact that this senseless act
of living, even when dead, would soon be over. I took
comfort in the fact that this body would soon take its
rightful place beneath the dirt, and also in the fact that
my dad would be able to start living again. He really was
My father had watched his wife of 37 years go from a
strong-willed woman that could take care of herself in any
situation, to a childlike dependency state. He had watched
over the course of a year, my mother who he

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