After the first late night phone call letting us know my mom may not wake up… we were quite amazed that her eyes were open within the next 24 hours. Over a total of 36 hours away from her strokes, she was able to move her legs.

How we both took that success for granted.

Matt and I had left in a mad dash to make it to East Texas 3 days before. Now with this, not perfect, but good news, we decided against my mother’s wish to go home and see our children.

We left, we worked, we saw our babies. I called my mom to check in on her at every shift change to make sure I advocated for her case as best as I could.

That night when we laid in bed all united under 1 roof… we drifted off into an emotionally exhausted sleep.

At midnight, the phone rang and I had it answered before the first ring ever ended. Panic had set in.

‘Mrs. Davis, your mama is not doing well. We are doing what we can, but you better get here.’ The sweet nurse said.

I reminded her what a tough cookie she was and how she has beat death twice in the last year. She interrupted me.

‘Mrs. Davis if this was my mama, I would get here now. We will try to keep her alive until you get here… hurry.’

Usually a nurse or physician would urge me to be careful as I traveled from 4 hours away… tonight was a different recommendation. Hurry.

In a matter of minutes, Matt’s amazing mom was in our house to let our children sleep in their beds and to take them to school the next day. We gave them kisses and hugs and told them that ‘Nana was sick, but she loves them so much’.

We were off once more to East Texas. This time the plan was for my husband, who by the way… is the best husband in the world… to drop me off at the hospital, he would take a nap, and leave me in East Texas.

My mom has 2 sweet friends that she considers her other daughters. In my absence they were always ready to be called in so my mom would not die alone. I made the phone call and one of them was on her way to my mom’s side in case I did not make it.

Here is what I learned that night.

1. The pace that grief sets is relentless.

We were at the mercy of emergency care and when it needed us. Planning was not an option.

2. Nothing is fixed, I must be flexible.

Flexible is not my thing. We made a commitment to be available to her even at our sanity’s expense.

3. Consider it an honor to accompany someone as they die.

I was not a great companion during her last moments on Earth. I did my best and that is all I can do. It was hard to manage her needs and my needs in the middle of reactive chaos. But in the words of someone very wise…

There are some moments you don’t get a do over.

So I did what I could, and it was not perfect. But it is done.