If someone would have told me this next part of the story before, I would have said, “Oh, isn’t that sweet? Trying to hold onto some part of your loved one while they passed? Well, whatever you have to do,” and then probably awkwardly patted their hand.

But it’s true, I know the exact moment my Mother passed. I had spent the morning at her side, saying all the things I ever wanted to say to her, because although she had never regained consciousness, I truly believed she could hear me every time I was there. But I never actually said  goodbye because I was afraid that would scare her. After I wracked my brain to make sure there was nothing left to say, I told the nurses I was ready.

And then I left.

Continue reading May Flowers. Part Three. →