After my mom's passing on January 15, I was told by Superman/George Reeves historian Chuck Harter that after the initial shock, funeral preparations, estate dealings and when everyone settles back into their normal routines, it will be a sadder time for me to undergo.
In a way, that's true. The two weeks after my mom died, I had to deal with clearing out her apartment and take care of the items listed above, so I was kept busy doing that. It is a lot quieter now and not hectic. It has provided me with time to deal with my own business, which includes promoting
The Monster Movie Fan's Guide To Japan.
Her apartment is about ready to be occupied by a new tenant. New carpeting has been installed (the one that was in there was ruined by a pipe leak that occurred after most of my mom's belongings were removed), new paint applied, etc.
There are some things that my mindset hasn't readjusted to. Normally, on weekends, I would go to her apartment for dinner at 5:30. My mindset tells me to keep track of time on Saturdays and Sundays. Then I catch myself and realize that those days of "mom's home-cooked meals" are over. Also, I went grocery-shopping with her on Sunday mornings at 10:30. Yesterday, I went an hour earlier and found myself imagining that I would see her in the store, particularly in the meat or vegetable sections. This was particularly weird since I've been in the market several times since January 15 and this didn't happen before.
A week ago today, I did some grocery-shopping there and the checker lady (who knows us) asked me why I was there on Monday instead of Sunday. I gave her the sad news and she reactively grabbed my hand. I almost lost it at that point. Otherwise, the trip to the store was uneventful.
It is amazing at how fast time passes after a loved one dies. My mom and I noticed this after my dad died ten years ago. It is happening again. It is hard to believe that a month had already passed.
It is stil a vivid, and painful memory, of how I learned of the results of the surgery my mom underwent at Tarzana Medical Center. It was a little after 8:30 on the evening of January 13 when the surgeon called me. I was at the Hall of Justice in downtown L.A. with our security officer Rebeca when my cell phone rang. I am the type that can't hang around in hospital waiting rooms (my mom was the same way) and had to keep busy. So I went to work (plus I had rent to pay), thinking that the surgery would be uneventful. Amber was at the hospital. Earlier, the doctor told me that they thought my mom had either an intestinal blockage or a hole in either her intestinal or stomach walls. That shouldn't be too difficult to fix, I thought. What they found was shocking, to say the least. She went into surgery at around 6:00 PM and was out of surgery about two hours later.
The surgeons found that sixteen feet of intestine and her gall bladder were "dead." They had to remove both. The poisons from the dead tissue got into her bloodstream and were causing problems with her kidneys (which were weak anyway) and other vital organs. The doctor told me that her prognosis was "not good" and they did not expect her to survive the night.
After ending the call, I went to another area of the Hall of Justice property to call my cousin Maria. I came close to a total breakdown and collapse during this call. It was the most profound shock I've ever had.
I had to get my wits about me again for the drive to the hospital. After a few minutes on the phone, I settled down a little. I returned to where my vehicle was parked (next to Rebeca's). She saw that I was in obvious distress and talked me into waiting a while before attempting to drive. She later told me that she never saw such a look before (I must've looked like hell at that point) and became worried.
After a few minutes, and more calming, I called my supervisor and told him that I'll have to leave. He agreed and told me to go ahead and go. First, I had to turn in my paperwork and vehicle to the office. Fortunately, he had the foresight to meet me in the parking garage and I gave him everything there, including the keys and I left for the hospital.
I have no recollection of the drive to the hospital. I don't remember if I had the radio on or not. But I did get there. Somehow. I do remember where I parked.
I met Amber and her boyfriend Darrel in a waiting room just outside of the Intensive Care Unit (ICU). After a few minutes, I used the phone at the ICU door to call the nurse to let Amber and me in. Once inside, we didn't have to go far as my mom's room was the first one after entering. She was hooked up to all kinds of life-support machines and monitors. The nurse (right now I can't even remember her name, but she was my favorite of my mom's nurses and knew her job well) told me that "it doesn't look good" and the first 24 hours after surgery was the most critical. The toxins (sepsis) in my mom's blood was causing problems, despite the anti-biotics the ICU was pumping in. My mom was unconscious. Thankfully, she was not in any pain.
Amber stayed until 1:30 in the morning and I left about 45 minutes later. I was emotionally exhausted.
The next day, my mom was in an awake, but comatose state. Her eyes were open. My cousin Lydia drove in from Las Vegas to be with us. Vanessa, my mom's neighbor friend, also joined us in the afternoon. My mom seemed to respond to our voices, although it was hard to exactly tell for sure. I had a glimmer of hope that she might be able to rally that afternoon.
Unfortunately, her vital signs were beginning to weaken that evening. Her heart rhythms were not normal. The nurse explained that there are three rhythms to a heartbeat. The major one was weaker than it should be and the secondary one was trying to compensate for it. She also said that her organs were showing signs of failing.
It was just a matter of time.
She passed away around 2:00 am January 15. Shortly before, I went down to my car (which was parked on Burbank Blvd.) with Darrel to jumpstart my car as I was having battery trouble. I was trying to decide whether to go back up to the ICU or just go home. Right after getting the car started, Amber called and said my mom just died. I told her I will be right back up.
After parking the car in the hospital's parking structure, Darrel and I got back up to the ICU. Inside Mom's room, the ventilator machine was still going as Lydia and Amber watched. Amber told me that she was watching the heart monitor when it suddenly flatlined and the heart rate indicator dropped to zero.
I just told them that we should just say a prayer and leave. We gathered around my mom and Lydia said the "Hail Mary" prayer. We then bid my mom goodbye and left.
Exhausted as I was, I could not go to sleep when I got home. I called Maria with the news and proceeded to post on this blog my mom's death announcement and emailed it to family and friends at 2:50. Maria also called the rest of the family.
The first email response came in at 5:29 am from actress/model Christine Nguyen. Many more came in that day and the following days. Those messages were a big help to me. I needed them for the strength to make the arrangements with the mortuary (I decided days before to use Lorenzen Mortuary, should the need arise, as I was familiar with the Lorenzens from my days in political activism) and other matters of my mom's estate.
Today, the shock has worn off, but there is a definite sadness. I expected this and know that it's normal. Things will get better as time goes on. I've written before on how the shock affected me. Decisions on mundane things was difficult and I had some memory difficulties.
Little by little, things are getting done. I found that my best outlet was to just write. It has a cathartic, healing effect. It also allows me to document how things went for future reference. It is funny how I was able to write from the start, but doing other things was difficult.
Life will go on. There will be that void of loss. All we can do at these points in life is to, as Chief Dan George said in
The Outlaw Josey Wales, "Endeavor to persevere."
