I was standing next to her bed attempting to make her eat to no avail.  Lately she was refusing food at all times.  She loved vanilla ice cream and she was brought vanilla ice cream five times a day.  After having  the ice cream for dinner, she told me that she wanted to talk to me.  My heart was on my throat as I knew that when she said  she wanted to talk to me it was a serious matter.  I sat on the bed and held her hand waiting for her to tell me what was so important. She did.  

She told me that she was very tired and that she had a very good life.  She said  that her body was in very bad shape, her mind was wondering around without her having memories of what she did or say during those times,  and that she knew it was time to go but she was concerned about my sister and I.  Her main concern was my sister.  She added that the only reason she was still alive was because she was waiting for the two of us to show her that we could take care of ourselves without her.  

After thinking about it for just a fraction of  a second, I told my mother that she shouldn't worry about  us,  she had done a very good job raising and teaching us, and even though we loved her and would like to keep her with us until the end of time, if she thought it was time to go, she should go.  I also told her that I always would be there for my sis and that my sis would be there for me.  We always supported my mother on whatever she wanted to do and this time, regardless of  how painful it was, was not  different.

The doctor ordered a battery of tests, and after looking at the results, an oncologist was called in.  I  found out that the oncologist had visited my mother because I found his calling card at her hospital bed's side table.  I remember picking the card up, reading the name and title  of the doctor and realizing what they were looking for, even though it was very serious, it didn't register.  I even told my husband about it and when I came home from the hospital that night I got on the web and started doing research.  After I was done, I got up from the chair, went to the living room and completely and totally put it out of my mind.  I immediately forgot about the oncologist, the suspicion, and the research I did.  I just erased it.  I was not ready to let my mother go even though deep inside I knew it was time.  As far as I was concerned, my mother was going to get better, go home and keep on living.

I went to see her the next day and while I was there, the oncologist came to see how was she feeling.  The pain she had on her right side was unbearable, but that day it was a little bit less painful.  Of course, I started to ask the doctor all kinds of questions and my husband was just listening to the exchange between the doctor and me.  I am eternally grateful to that doctor for every thing he did to make my mother comfortable.

I know that during our entire lives, we have to deal with hard realities and endure the lessons we have to learn but when I was told what the diagnosis was I felt like someone had just dipped me on ice cold water.  He told me that my mother had non Hutchkins Lymphoma.  Her liver and lungs were the organs in worse shape.  The cancer had already spread to all her lymph glands, it was a very aggressive form of cancer and it was at stage four.  

I didn't want to hear anything else he had to say, but I knew I had to ask the doctor how much time did she had left.  He didn't want to tell me and I had to assert myself to get an answer.  He gave her no more than three months.  I couldn't believe what I was hearing, surely the doctor was mistaken and he had to find a way to give me the right diagnosis.  I forced myself to ask him about treatment, he answered that it was an option but in her case it would prolong her life for only a few more months. Maybe her life would  be prolonged to six months.

I spent the day on a daze.  That night when my husband and I came home, I called my sister, who is back home in New Orleans, and told her what the prognosis was.  I asked her if she thought I should tell my mother.  My sister was devastated, and she couldn't talk.  I was listening to my sister sob with all her heart and the only thing I could do was to be strong and be there for her.  When she finally could utter words, through her tears, we agreed that my mother should know.  We had never kept any secrets from her and this was not the time to start doing so.  It was decided that I would tell her next day.  After I hung up the phone with my sister, my husband made arrangements for her and my niece to come see our mother one last time.

After a sleepless night, I went back to the hospital.  The nurses were attempting to make her have some kind of nourishment and they were totally unsuccessful.  I asked everyone to please leave the room and this time it was my turn to tell my mother I wanted to talk to her.    Somehow my mother knew it was serious and for the first time in days, she was in present time and ready to understand what I had to tell her.  

Telling her what she had left me empty, I was sure that my heart had stopped and I was in the middle of a nightmare where I was the one dying.  I was observing  her facial expressions and knew what she was thinking. Looking at her at that moment in time, made me feel humble.   80 years of accumulated experiences, knowledge, and wisdom were about to be gone and be gone forever.  For the first time in my life, I felt humble in the presence of any one.  She kept her dignity, knowledge, experience and love intact throughout the entire ordeal.

My mother was always good at keeping a straight face, and showed no emotion when the time called for it.  She listened to me and asked me how long did the doctors thought she had.  I told her and gave her the different treatments she could have.  She said no to all of them.  She looked at her hands for an instant and then  told  me that I had to make sure all her wishes were  carried out.  She asked me to ensure she was given the chance to see my sister one more time.  I promised I would and told her that my sister was coming to be with her the following Saturday, that made her happy.  She told me that she would wait for my sister to arrive and then she will go. She wanted to see Veronica one more time.

The following  Thursday she finished eating a little piece of fruit she was having, mumbled something I didn't understand, and closed her eyes.   I didn't like the way she looked.  She appeared to be asleep but she wasn't.  I called the nurse, and told her that something was wrong with my mother.  The doctor was called in and he came to examine her.  I was informed that she was in a coma.  The only sounds she made were the sounds of pain.  I knew that the only thing she was waiting for was my sister and my niece and she would cling to life with all her might until my sister arrived.  I started to stay day and night with her and hoped she would wake up and talk to me again.  But it wasn't to be.

My sister arrived on Saturday, two days after my mother went into the coma, and came straight from the airport to the hospital. I can't explain why or how but we are completely and totally certain that my mother knew my sister was standing next to her bed and that she was here.  We both spent the night in the hospital and on Sunday my sister told me that she would stay by herself as I needed a good night of sleep and especially a bath.  The bath more than the night of sleep.  Since my mother got admitted to the hospital, I didn't sleep.  I was running on fumes for over a week now and was operating as a non-thinking mechanical machine.  I left the hospital around 9 p.m., came home, grabbed something light to eat, took a shower and laid down.

I did not have a good night of sleep, and for some  reason I jumped out of bed  at 5 a.m. Even though my sister was sleeping next to my mother, she also woke up at 5 a.m.  Ten minutes later my mother died.  She died fourteen  days after her diagnosis.  I was outside of my bedroom when my husband came looking for me to tell me that my sister was on the phone.  I knew before I grabbed the receiver and as I listened to my sister telling me that my mother was gone, I remembered that she always told me that she would go while my sister and I were asleep as she didn't want us to see her take her last breath.  She almost succeeded.