Descansa en paz, M.A.E.F (May 21, 1935-September 9, 2016)

My mother died last night.

Regular readers of this blog know that she was diagnosed with a glioblastoma in early August, and that, after a failed attempt in August 12, she underwent an operation in August 25, to remove as much of it as possible. The operation itself was a success, and we hoped to receive the results of tissue exams next Monday.

For the past two weeks, she had been stable, physically, and a bit more herself, in the cognitive and emotional sense, than since the July 19 seizures that put her in hospital. We had hopes that, with physical therapy, and the emotional support of the family, she would recover a goodly measure of her independence, and that the quality of her life for however long she might have, would be good.

Unfortunately, last night, as she was being helped into bed, she had an incident of bronchoaspiration. As a result, she went into cardiac arrest. She was revived two times, but her heart gave out again, and there was nothing anyone could do.

It was her time to go.

My eldest brother, who always–always, always–was a presence of care and love for my mother, told me that he and his wife spent a lot of time with her yesterday, and that my mother had had a very happy day. That, in fact, the last three days of her life, my mother repeated often just how happy she was, and how grateful she was for all the love she received.

I am so glad my mother was happy, and herself, for the last days of her life, because she had been so afraid and disoriented during her long, long, hospital stay.

I am so glad to know that my family, and my eldest brother in particular, got to laugh and reminisce with her, just hours before she died.

I am not religious, but my mother was, and so I hope, I pray, she is now at peace, and that her soul basks in joy and glory.

Descansa en paz, mamá.

Muere el sol en los montes,
con la luz que agoniza,
pues la vida en su prisa,
nos conduce a morir.

Pero no importa saber
que voy a tener el mismo final,
porque nos queda el consuelo
que Dios nunca morira.

Voy a dejar
las cosas que amé,
la tierra ideal
me vió nacer;
pero sé que después
habrê de encontrar
la dicha y la paz
que en Dios hallaré.

Sé que la vida empieza
en donde se piensa
que la realidad termina.
Sé que Dios nunca muere,
y que se conmueve
del que busca su beatitud.

Sé que una nueva luz
habra de alcanzar
nuestra soledad,
y que todo aquél
que llega a morir,
empieza a vivir
una eternidad.

Muere el sol en los montes,
con la luz que agoniza,
pues la vida en su prisa,
nos conduce a morir.

Descansa en paz.