Death Becomes Us All

Proximity to death changes you. I had seen someone die before. In high school, I was in a magnet program that was a fast track to medical school. I had wanted to be a pediatrician my whole childhood, and my grade afforded me to be a part of a program that allowed high school kids to get a jump on credits for college. One of the days out of the week, we spent at hospitals. I remember this day so vividly, and my memory has never served me well. I was doing a round with a doctor who, for some unknown reason, mistook me for a 1st-year resident and made me do CPR (no mouth stuff) compressions on a 40'yr old man. This man died of neglect in a nursing home. I remember his yellow skin, and his eyes kept popping open as I pressed down, willing him to come back to life. I remember the smell, a smell I would never forget of rotten flesh. I was sweating from trying to bring life back into him. His stomach was bulging from sickness, and the eerie sound of air escaping from his mouth shook me. The doctor was so desensitized by the whole thing that he just got on the phone, and I had to yell for him to call the time of death. The man was long gone.

Mother's death was different. I remember that day as if it was yesterday. I hadn't; I honestly didn't think the woman would die. My family called me to say it wouldn't be long, so I hopped on a plane, and when I got there, everyone left to get sleep and would come back in the morning, and I said I would stay with her. I ordered a Texas-loaded baked potato with all the trimmings: sour cream, brisket, cheese, chives, and barbeque sauce—a real texas girls' meal. I pulled out my vaped pen, got really high, and talked with my mom as if it were just another day and we were having just another dinner. A mother and daughter just passing the time. I remember telling her, please don't die on me tonight and then trying to take a nap. I was oddly at peace, as if she would get up any day. As I started to fall asleep, a nurse came and awoke me, saying, "It's time." I was like, time for what? She looked at me, confused. Your mother is going, she said. I looked at her and said I don't understand. Maybe I was in denial, I don't know, but I was baffled. She said it again, and I cried out wait, I need to call my family. But before I could, she made one last sound, a tear rolled down her cheek, and she was gone. I stared at the woman who had raised me. A woman full of so much life. A woman who traveled the world til the end, even when the doctors told her she shouldn't. A woman who fought to live a good couple of years past the time they told her. A woman who had raised triplets by herself. A woman who overcame abuse, who stood up to racism as a cop, who held down a community that honored her in the end. A woman who I had a complicated relationship with but who I loved dearly. I looked at her lifeless body, the skin tugging at her bones. Her eyes sunken into her skull and mouth agape. I looked at her and wept, for she was gone, and for some fucking reason, I still didn't understand. I then made the necessary calls to my family. My older sister Earlina was the first to come. We looked at our mother and wept. Then after we stopped crying, we stared at her. I suggested we try to close her eyes and mouth, so she looks presentable to the family. We tried with no luck. It was actually the comical moment of the night, Earlina and I trying to force my mom's jaw close to no avail. After no success, we cried some more. I learned that night that death becomes us all.