The past year has been a difficult one, testing my inner fortitude at every turn. On Valentine's day this year I spent 10 hours with my mother in the ER. She was having difficulty breathing and none of her inhalers seemed to help. The doctors performed every test they deemed important to rule out any life threatening situation, eventually concluding she was having extreme anxiety. They gave her an IV of Adivan and it did calm her down. They released her and I took her home. We ate a little bite and I spent the night with her because she was scared.

The next day I had to work so her friend took her to her GP to discuss what had happened in the hospital. He told her to take the Adivan 3x a day to ease her anxiety. After trying that for about a week she told me she still was having trouble breathing. She would wake at 2am with trouble catching her breath. I made an appointment again with her GP to see if Oxygen would help. He was on vacation that next week so we had to push her appointment to 3/11.

On Friday, 3/1,  I took mom to get a small cyst removed from her left cheek. She really wanted it removed. Afterward I took her to the grocery store/pharmacy to get new Rx's, pick up refills and get a few groceries. She had a hard time making it from the car to the grocery store - she had to stop and catch her breath before grabbing a cart and carrying on. I remember she put he arm in mine and held onto me as we walked. She was slower and seemed more frail now.

After we got home I fixed us both an open-face salami sandwich on the fresh ciabatta bread she bought. It was so fresh; I can't remember enjoying a simple salami sandwich more. I hugged and kissed her goodbye and scooted off. She had a cocktail party to go to in her building so she wasn't trying to keep me there any longer. She had to cut up orange peppers into squares to scoop with the pita chips they would dip into olive hummus.

That night I called her at 9pm to check to see how her cheek felt. She said she felt fine; she didn't even know she had anything done. I told her I loved her and that I would talk with her tomorrow. The next day I had to work and I didn't call her. That Sunday we didn't have plans to see each other so after work I came home and my roommate and I went out for an early dinner. I remember saying I had to call my mom and she said it could wait until after our dinner. That night I was just about to call her and my friend Kim called and we ended up talking for 2 1/2 hours. It had been a long time since we had caught up with each other.

The next morning I kept thinking of my mom so I called her uncharacteristically at 8:30am - no answer. At 9am I got a frantic phone call from her friend, Maryann. She asked where my mother was and I told her she was at home. She said she doesn't answer her door or phone and there are 2 days newspapers on her front door. In that moment I knew.

Almost a year to the day of my last blog post, I lost my mother. She died at home alone, on top her bed, probably early Sunday morning.

Everything is different now.