Her 66th Birthday

 Mom's 66th birthday would have been tomorrow. Every year, I would scour the greeting card section to find the perfect card for her. My birthday is exactly one month from hers, and she would do the same for me. We both kept each other's bday cards for life. For the second year now after her death, I still bought a card for my momma, and I'll probably do so as long as I live. I read it out loud and placed it on her piano on top of last year's card. I guess it's just a tradition I'll always have.

My Review of Cornerstone Hospice

 I wanted to post a review online for Cornerstone Hospice in Tavares, Florida, since Mom's death, but it was too painful for me to do. I thought about it and thought about it. I finally got around to it. I posted it on Google Reviews as well as Yelp, and will probably post it on Facebook Reviews as well. Here's what I wrote:

I don’t have good remarks about Cornerstone that so many on here have. My mother and absolute best friend, Carol Diane Collins, died on August 16th, 2019. Now a year and a half later, I feel I finally need to write a review. In her dying weeks, I was summoned to the hospital; the medical staff said that it was time for a Hospice consultation, and they recommended Cornerstone. I was met with Suzanne Pasco, who didn’t seem to want to be there, and seemed like this was almost of a annoyance to her to have to meet with me about putting Mom into a Hospice House for the remainder of her life, which turned out to just be a couple of weeks. She said that she didn’t think my dying mother was ready for a Hospice House, despite the doctors saying she was. She then stated that patients are only put into Hospice just 48 hours before they die, which I later learned to be a complete lie. Pasco put on a phony smile and left. I then had to scramble frantically to try to put my mother in a nursing home, as I am an only child with no family and no support of any kind, who works full-time and would not be able to give my precious momma the help she needed in her final days. Using her Social Security money that she just started getting, I was able to put Mom into Cypress Care in Wildwood. Within a few days, they called, saying I needed a Hospice consult. I was met with another representative from Cornerstone, saying that it was now too late to put Mom in a Hospice House and that she had no idea why this wasn’t done in the first place; she said Mom should have been placed there days before. 

 So my wonderful, sweet momma had to endure the final week of her life in a busy nursing home, surrounded by three other patients in a small room, one of them blaring Maury Povich and Jerry Springer filth all day, every day. No privacy, no peace and quiet, no dignity, that me and my soulmate deserved. Nobody from Cornerstone offered counseling, no help, I was on my own the entire time. I have no idea why I was overlooked. But those final weeks left me pained and scarred emotionally, and even 18 months later, things are still hurtful.  

Mom's Car

 I thought I would share this with all of you as it’s been a long time since I’ve posted on here. Tomorrow is the 18 month anniversary of the loss of my beloved mother and absolute best friend, Carol. One and a half years without my soulmate. One of the very few things of any value that she had left in her possession when she died was her car. I decided that there was no way I was going to part with that car, even if it meant paying a bit more with insurance and the initial title transfer fee (which the tag office cut in half when they realized the car was bequeathed to me). It was the first vehicle that Mom bought on her own, the first one she paid off on her own; it was hers and hers alone. Mom neglected it badly in her final year of life, so I have fixed it up, top to bottom, cleaning it, getting all the needed maintenance done, and taking care of it even more than my own car. 

 There’s also a sort of spiritual connection with it. Some months before she started getting sick, Mom was involved in a car accident. A woman driving a brand-new Toyota Tacoma pickup truck slammed into Mom’s car at a roundabout. The truck was badly damaged and had to be towed away, but Mom’s car had no damage. Nothing, not even a dent or scratch. The lady who caused the accident couldn’t believe it, but then she looked at the plate on the front of Mom’s car and said, “Yep, now I get it. Now I understand.” I used to pick on Mom for the tag, saying it was goofy, but methinks it’s going to stay on there. I don’t drive the car too much, so I expect to have it for a long time. Keeping the vehicle and taking care of it at all times is sort of a memorial for Mom; I do this in her memory.

Anniversary

It was exactly a year ago today that I lost my beloved mother and absolute best friend, Carol Diane Gibbs Collins at 64 years old. I stayed by her side for the week that she was dying, her last words to me were "I love you" before she became uncommunicative for days. I didn't know what to do today, so I just drove to the nursing room where she died, sat in my car in the empty visitor parking lot with Mom's ashes for little while until the minute of her death. I even wore the exact same clothes I wore on that tragic day. I'm just very sentimental and traditional in that way. It was overcast and drizzly last year, the kind of days that Mom loved; today, it was partly sunny and hot.

 A year later, and things aren't all that much better in life; I just go through the motions in life: work, home, going out with a friend or two not often enough anymore. Things just aren't the same anymore; nothing's fun or exciting, because just about everything in my life had Mom right by my side. My twin, my next door neighbor, and my soulmate, gone 20 years too soon. I'm an only child, my father is useless, Mom's extended family hasn't been there for me, and obviously I don't have a spouse and kids. I had no money for grief therapy, so I've grieved alone for a year. I think about my momma every waking hour of my life. 

Time Has Stopped in My Living Room

  It was a year ago yesterday afternoon that my Mom spent her last day at my house. After being my next door neighbor for over ten years (and living in this house for 17 years before I took it over), she had to move in with me at the beginning of 2019 because she was getting sick and had lost everything because she couldn't work anymore. So we got the bed out of my tiny guest room and put it in the corner of the living room. That was her home for seven months, not including the several stays at the hospital and hotel. She had gotten so terribly ill from cirrhosis, each day was another disaster. I came home from work one year ago today, and Mom was halfway on the bed, barely able to do anything. She had messed herself, and couldn't even answer basic questions like her SS number, her full name, names of the president and governor. It was a nightmare to cap off seven months straight of living nightmares for me.

  I called 911, and she was carted away one last time as she mouthed "I love you" to me. One week in the hospital, then two weeks at a nursing home until her untimely and devastating death on August 16th at age 64. I haven't moved or thrown away anything of Mom's in my living room. Her bed is still there, liver disease books on her nightstand (she had been misdiagnosed for months by typically uncaring doctors, so I frantically bought books to try to help, but it was far too late). Her clothes still sit crumpled in a basket behind a special lift chair I bought for her because I thought she was going to recover. Time stopped in my living room on July 25th, 2019, and one full year later, it's still stopped. I spend very little time in there anyway, sometimes just to talk to her bed like Mom's still there, but I know this can't stay like this forever.

The 65th Birthday

Today would have been Mom's 65th birthday. Exactly a month from today is my 40th. She spent her last birthday in the hospital, recovering from severe dehydration. But her other, misdiagnosed illness was taking over, and she never got better. Her last decent week was the end of May. The next 2 1/2 months were a living nightmare, scarring and traumatic for me, every day, until her preventable and premature death. I took the day off work today because I didn't really want to be around anybody. Very, very few people can understand devastating loss and profound grief, especially when you are devoted to your mother and absolute best friend for almost your entire 39 years of life, and she was to me. Mom always got me lovely cards for my bday and I would do the same for her, and we kept all of the cards we gave each other over the years. I still bought her a card this year. I probably always will. I think about her every waking hour.

Gotta Start Somewhere

Well, hello. I guess it's time for a brief introduction. My name is Ryan, I'm 39 years old, and I live in central Florida. My beloved mother and absolute best friend, Carol, died on August 16th, 2019, at just 64 years old and after a brief illness. I'm an only child and my father and I have never had a real relationship, so it was just Mom and me for almost my entire life. She was my rock, my cheerleader, my confidant, my soulmate, of sorts, my kindred spirit. She was also my next door neighbor for over ten years, so I saw or talked to her every single day of my life then.

I've blogged about other issues and topics before under a different moniker, so I decided to dedicate a blog to the untimely and devastating loss of my mother, something that--over nine months later--is still fresh on my mind and heart, and something I think about literally every waking hour of my life. I will write about her illness, her death, my grief and my memories. I've had absolutely nobody to talk to about my pain and unfathomable heartbreak as I have no real, supportive family, my friends simply can't understand and relate, and I have no insurance, so I haven't been able to undergo grief counseling that I badly need. So, I'll write.

I have so many blogs I want to write, so many things I want to share, in hopes that others can relate and understand, and hopefully they can get some help for their grief as well through my stories. So many things to say! It may take a while for me to sort my thoughts out, but I'm finally working on it after nine full months of being too sad to sit down and write. I hope you'll pull up a chair and sit a spell.