I called my Dad on Monday while they were at the doctor looking for info on my mom. He said they were concerned and wanted her to be admitted. They were going to try and figure out what was happening. She was in the hospital for a few days, I've lost track how many, I worried, and called, and annoyed my family. I didn't realize that my mom's words "I love you darling" would be the last thing I would hear her say. I wanted to be there but decided it would be better to go after she got home and be able to help my Dad. I bought a ticket for the 27th of August, 2 days after school was to start for the kids. I figured I could get them started and then leave them in Jared's hands for three weeks. I was excited to go and see my parents. I hadn't been home for a year and I missed spending time with them. I was excited to give my Dad a break and spend time just sitting with my Mom. I never got that time with my Mom. My Dad sent an email after they got home from the hospital. Mom wasn't eating. She was adamant that she didn't want a feeding tube. Her esophagus had become weak and she wasn't able to swallow. I was sitting at the pool when I opened that email. I just sat there, and cried. I couldn't tell the kids their grandma was dying, they were swimming and enjoying one of their last days of summer break. I just sat at the table and cried. I didn't know what to do. I called Jared and he said he had read the email. Emi asked what was wrong and I let her read it. She was silent. And I just cried. The rest of the day, I cried. I called my Dad and within hours the hospice nurse had called the Red Cross and I had a plane ticket. Jared decided he and the kids would attempt to Space-A out the next day also. They would be category 1 and have a good chance of getting on a flight straight to Seattle. We packed, we ran around the base like crazy people getting signatures, and orders, and stamps on passports, and more signatures, and I cried. The. Entire. Day. I couldn't stop. This was my mom, my friend, my shopping partner, my mommy, and I was losing her, and I was half way around the world. I felt like my heart was tearing in two. At one point I was denied a stamp I needed on my passport, and thanks to church members with more than a few stripes, I was able to get that stamp. I will be eternally grateful to them. Pulling rank can sometimes be a good thing. Saturday morning we all got up at 3:30 a.m. showered, dressed, loaded the cars and drove into base. I went with Jared and the kids to the terminal on base and after saying tearful goodbyes, I drove to some friends house who had offered to take me to the airport down in Naha to catch my flight. They dropped me off, I checked in, and I cried. In the meantime, Jared and the kids were denied a flight, and decided to take a different flight that would go to Yokota, Guam, Hawaii, and then California. They were then going to rent a car and drive up to Oregon. When they got to Yokota, they were kicked off the plane in order to make room for gear. Jared noticed that the same plane they had attempted to get on in Okinawa was there in Yokota and there were seats! They got on that flight and were on their way.
While they were in Yokota, I was in Tokyo (only a few hours away from each other). As soon as I stepped off the plane in Tokyo and turned my phone on, I got a FB phone call. What? I didn't even know that was a thing. The magicjack app on my phone never worked, so I was shocked to answer and hear my brothers voice loud and clear. Tender Mercy. He said "Heather?" And then his voice broke and I feared the worst. I was too late, I had missed saying goodbye. And I started to sob. "Mom has been given 12 hours, you should say goodbye". I couldn't speak. I was alone in a hallway except for a Japanese airport security guard. I remember he was looking at me strangely. I tried so hard to ask my mom to wait, I told her I was almost there, and that I needed her to wait. I told her I would take care of my Dad, to not be worried about him. And then I couldn't say anymore, all I could do was listen to her breathing. She couldn't answer back. I squeaked out a goodbye and started walking. I couldn't see, too many tears. I couldn't hear, there was a roaring in my ears and I didn't know how to make it stop. I couldn't find my stupid gate! And then, there was an American, and with red eyes and snotty nose I blurted out to him that my mom was dying and I had to get there and I couldn't find my gate. He said he was also looking for Delta and to follow him. So I did, on a bus, down a hall, and to our gate. He was definitely an angel. I noticed at the gate next to mine, the flight was going straight to Portland! Seriously? Why was I going to LA first? I knew it wouldn't work, but also knew it couldn't hurt to ask. So I asked if I could switch flights. Who does that? At the gate? In Japan? The Japanese are rule followers. It shouldn't have worked. But it did. Tender mercy. I would get in 6 hours earlier than planned. And at this point, every minute away from my mom was one too many.
The flight finally took off, and 10.5 hours later I landed in Portland. I had tried to sleep on the plane, even took Dramamine, but it didn't really work. My sister was flying in 30 minutes after I did and my sis-in-law was at the airport to pick us up. We knew we only had hours. I got impatient waiting for my sister and after explaining to a desk agent at United the situation, she took off running for the gate my sister would arrive at and told me to be waiting at the curb. My sister said when she got off the plane the desk agent knew who she was and told her to follow her. They ran through back hallways and storage areas, and came out a security door. She jumped in the van and my sis-in-law took off, breaking all kinds of laws on the way there. When we arrived at the house we didn't even stop to bring in our bags. We both ran up the stairs, the same stairs I had run up probably a million times, and into my parents bedroom. There was my Mom, eyes closed, struggling to breathe, waiting for us. She had waited. She had heard me, and she had waited. We both crawled onto the bed with her and cried, and hugged, and held her hands, and kissed her face and told her we were there. The hospice nurse came and told us we had just a few hours. Jared and the kids landed in Seattle about the same time I landed in Portland and a friend drove them down to Portland. Tender mercy. Angels. We sang some of my mom's favorite songs, the bishop came by and he and Porter blessed the sacrament. Henry passed the bread and water to us. It was what my mom would have wanted. We all bore our testimonies, shared favorite memories, and sang some more. As it got late, and time for bed, Jared and my sis-in-law decided to take the kids to their house and put them to bed. The rest of us knew that the night might be long and we were going to take shifts with my Mom so my Dad could get some sleep. I ran downstairs to say hello to some friends who had stopped by (people had been in and out all day), and my sister with some alarm in her voice called us back up. It was time. Her breaths were far apart. I counted the seconds between each breath, 5, 8, 10. We all took turns holding her hands and telling her it was o.k. to go. That we would be o.k. And then she was gone. It was so peaceful, and quiet. Not like in the movies. We had a family prayer. My Dad called the funeral home, and we waited. It was so surreal. I had been up for about 54 hours at that point, and yet I wasn't tired, or hungry. I had been sitting at my mom's bedside for 12 hours and had not felt the need to eat, drink, or sleep. Tender mercy. I went downstairs, and the kitchen needed to be cleaned. My sister came in to help. We knew our Mom would never go to bed with dishes in the sink. As we cleaned, we felt her there, talking to us. What tablecloth to put on, which flowers to put in the middle of the table, etc. We hugged, and I laid down on the couch with an afghan. It smelled like my mom.
The next week was a blur, funeral arrangements, memorial service, was Dad o.k? There were a million people in the house. I was going to stay another month, but after a week, he told me to go home in two weeks and take care of my family. He knew they needed me. People who meant well tried their best to console with "I'm so glad there's a plan", "Families are Forever", I know that. I preach that. I teach my children that. And while it helps to know that my mom is in heaven, with her parents and ancestors, it doesn't make me miss her any less. It doesn't make me worry about my Dad any less. And really it just got annoying. It's o.k. to be so sad that you don't want to get off the couch for a week. It's o.k. to mourn, and be mournful. Don't stay there for too long.
I'm so grateful I had the relationship that I did with my mom. I'm so grateful that in adulthood I was able to appreciate all that she did for me, even the discipline. I'm so, so, sorry I ever caused her heartache. I was such a brat sometimes. She was and is amazing. She was by far the best 5th grade teacher West Gresham Grade school has ever known. She taught me to serve others, and that service is the key to true happiness. I love her. I miss her. I'll always miss her. I have her eyes and her smile, and her hands, I definitely have her hands. Tender Mercy.
