she's been dead two years as of yesterday.

[caitxrawks]

My MIL Maria, that is.

She died on October 19, 2007. It was shortly after midnight that night, the entire family was there to see her off. She had fought for many years with ovarian cancer, but unfortunately it consumed her like it does so many others. I'd only known her for six months when she died, that's as long as Randy and I had been dating.

She was a good woman. A good mom, a good wife, a good sister, a good friend. I hate that the language barrier seperated us. She was such a sweet, kind, vivacious woman. She cooked three meals a day, cleaned the entire house, raised six healthy, beautiful, strong children...she could do it all. She was one of my heroes.

And yet she died on a hospital gurney in an apartment that didn't feel like home. She died without being able to speak to anyone and said goodbye.

She was the first person I ever saw die. Actually, I didn't see her the moment it happened. I was upstairs talking to my mom on my cellphone. I was so distraught that it was taking so long. I knew she would be gone any minute, but waiting for it to happen was agonizing. I kept telling Mom "Why can't it just happen? I feel like I'm on the edge of a cliff and I just can't jump off." I was so concerned for Randy. He's such a mama's boy. Even now, two years later, you can see the love he has for her. I hope Joss loves me like he loves her.

Anyway, everyone in the family surrounded Maria at her bedside. She was fading, barely breathing at all. Her eyes had closed, but she was still there. Her breathing was getting shallower with each passing minute. I was in so much pain for the family, especially for Randy since he was my only connection to those fine people.

All of a sudden, it got really quiet. I was laying on the bed in our room. I told Mom to hold on, and that I needed to listen. Then I heard Randy's aunt go "Mari? Maria? MARIA!"

I knew it was over.

I could barely speak to Mom. I told her that I had to go, that "she was gone" and I needed to be with Randy. I got off the phone and gingerly stepped downstairs. I remember that night, I felt lightheaded and funny. It wasn't me, it wasn't my life, I wasn't living this. She wasn't really dead. It wasn't real. Everyone was bawling, Randy was screaming and huddling close over her, some more of his aunts were over her too. It was almost like a panic, people running here and there and crying and screaming and wailing. I hadn't shed a tear. I didn't know what to do. All of a sudden, one of Randy's aunts handed me the white cordless phone and said "Call the nurse! Call the nurse!"

I nodded and somehow made it outside to the back patio. We had been instructed to call Hospice when she died. Unfortunately since I was the only one not in total and utter hysterics, I had to call them. I'll never forget it as long as I live.

"Hello?"

"Um...yeah...hiiii...your patient...um...M-M-Maria Barrantes...B-a-r-r-a-n-t-e-s...yeah...she...she...she just...died."

"Oh, okay. We will call her nurse. I am very sorry."

With that, I hung up the phone and totally lost it. I was standing then, after that my legs buckled and I landed in a heap on the cool, wet nighttime grass. The sky was black, and a few stars had come out. I remember the noise of the people inside. I didn't want to go back in there. I'd just seen Maria alive not ten minutes before. Now she was...dead? But she only looked asleep. She looked like she'd wake up if we poked her. I didn't want to look at her. It wasn't that I was afraid...well, maybe I was just a little afraid. I kept having images of a zombie coming to life in my head. The image of her on that hospital bed is burned into my memory. She was so pale, so still. So peacful and frail and thin. The cancer had eaten away at her and filled her lungs with fluid. It had taken away her will to eat or drink, and even to live. But there she was, my boyfriend's mom, dead. I'd always thought that it would be uncomfortable to be around a dead body, but I found myself suprisingly calm around her. I still couldn't grasp the reality of the situation.

Randy was in hysterics. I felt spread too thin, I was having to worry about him and everyone else at the same time. I didn't have time to cry myself. I wanted to go into a corner and never come out. But Randy depended on me. He just let himself go and slumped onto me whenever he could. When he wasn't with me, he was with his mom. He held her hand and talked to her. He even got me to touch the top of her hand. That was as far as I could go, I just don't do well with the psychological aspect of it all.

The nurse came and confirmed that she had died. The coroners came awhile after that. That was the worst part. We all stood in the living room with a silence you could cut with a knife. The coroners wrapped Maria in a white sheet, covering her entire body under white linen. I had to hold Randy back, he was so far gone into his own thoughts that he couldn't speak for himself or control his own body. As they wheeled her outside into the cool October night air, me and the rest of the family followed. They pushed her into the back of the hearse and drove away.

Randy all of a sudden broke free and started crying "MAMI! MAMITA! MAAAMIII!" and running after the hearse. We got him and brought him back to the apartment. It took me, his older brother, and his sister in law to drag him back into the house. He had no will to even stand, I had to support his legs so they wouldn't drag the ground. He had lived solely for her for so long that he felt he had nothing to live for now.

I just felt so terrible that night. It all happened so fast, but so slow at the same time. It was all so confusing, especially when I tried to console Randy. I kept saying "She's in a better place, you know she is." But even then, he was agnostic, and I didn't believe the Christian words I spoke to him. I felt like I was just speaking gibberish, and that nothing I could've said would have mattered to him anyway.

And here we are, two years later. Who would've thought that we'd be married with a kid now. Never in my wildest dreams, I tell you. Randy's gone through so much since then.

I miss his mom so much. All the time I think about how life would've been different if she'd never gotten cancer. It is not fair that such heinous things happen to such good people.

I just wish Joss would have both grandmas in her life. I have four grandmas in my life (two regular ones and two great grandmas) and they're given me indispensible knowledge about life and stuff.

Joss will only have one grandma :(

[pumpkinpie778]

Oct. 21, 2009 at 3:00 AM

That was very sad, what are the symptoms of ovarian cancer?