thelesbianlifestyle.com

It was almost 6 years ago that my mom died. I was a whopping 23 years old and moved out of mom’s house because she couldn’t bear to see me live my life as a lesbian. She loved me without a doubt, I knew that. She was my best friend but our relationship became strained because of my sexuality. I came out to her in September of 2002 and had been trying tirelessly to help her understand that the life I was living wasn’t bad…. but that it was who I was and had to start being.

I moved into a house in Highland (Michigan) and worked 2 jobs to make ends meet. I got a call from my mother’s landlord at the complex where she lived on February 27th 2002 at 3pm.

She told me that she, and my mom’s neighbor were concerned because it was now Wednesday and my mother (who was a school bus driver) hadn’t been out of the house since the weekend and her truck was still covered with snow from a snowfall the Sunday before.

I was on my way to work when she called so I called my boss and diverted my path. When I got there I unlocked the door and my moms beagle came bolting out of the house between my legs. The house was dark and there was dog feces all over the floor. It smelled really bad in there, so bad that I was gagging while calling for my mother at the bottom of the stairs. I knew she was dead. I don’t know how, I just did. You’ll never forget that smell once it’s in your nose.

My mother had no serious health problems except for the fact that she was a smoker and over weight. I went in the house with my mom’s neighbor Tracy. I walked halfway up the stairs and couldn’t make it the rest of the way. Tracy grabbed my hand and pulled me up to the top of the stairs, there we found my mother in her bed. Clearly dead. Her skin was green and I couldn’t even recognize her as my mother. She had been dead for 2 days according to the medical examiner. Her body was so badly decomposed that there could be no toxicology screening. The guilt of this plagues me to this day.

If I had one more day with my mother I would tell her how much her love meant to me. Though she didn’t agree with my lifestyle, she tried, which is more than most parents. I would ask her for one more mom hug. She would wrap her arms around you and pull you in tight. I don’t care how old I was or how bad the problem, her hugs could sooth and cure you. Even my friends would come over for “a mom hug” when they were feeling down.

I miss that the most I think.

I would tell her that I appreciate everything that she did and how hard she worked as a single mom to make a decent life for her children. Then…. I’d get all the recipes of my favorite foods out of her head. I miss the food too…. she just never wrote anything down.

What I’ve learned from this experience is monumental. It doesn’t come into words easily but I have such a good grasp on how much family and friends mean to me. I know that being a good person in the world is more important than anything else!

Hold on to the ones you love and keep them close. Because though this was fun, I’ll still never get “one more day” and I’m full of “shoulda, woulda, couldas”