Well, it’s been a minute as they say. Today is April 2, 2026. Lots of things going on in the world but you don’t need my opinion. We have too many opinions right now that have caused a huge divide among friends, family, strangers. Let’s leave it at that and hope and pray we find a way to come together before its too late.

Today being April 2, 2026 is the 50th year of my mom’s death. It still feels surreal after all these years, no–decades even. I can still see her in her final hour lying in the hospital bed at Valley General. She was skeletal thin but still had thick black hair. Horse hair is how she used to describe it. The nurse gently told me she was unable to get a blood pressure. I had just turned 22 a few days earlier and was ignorant as to what that even meant. Mom was awake but almost frantic with her words. She said vehemently, “I forgive everybody. I forgive everybody.” At the time I was a little irritated. After all, I had been taking care of her for months, changing her bandages, feeding her, sharing the baby’s room with her. So what was to forgive? Yes, I took it personally. She also told me this: “Debbie, quit smoking, tell Billy to quit drinking and get the baby baptized.”

I felt panic rising up into my throat. I hurriedly told my aunt who was with me that it was time to go. Visiting hours were up. My aunt looked surprised but acquiesced. I said, “Bye, Mom, see you tomorrow.” She didn’t respond.

She died a little bit later. I heard the phone ring and of course it was the doctor apologetically explaining that my mom had just died.

Mom died ten minutes after midnight. What anyone who knew her would acknowledge how apropos of my mother’s timing:

First: April Fools Day was her favorite day of the year. She looked forward to it every year with relish. And by relish, you should know it wasn’t against her grain to put some in one of our shoes on April Fools Day. Oh the cackling sounds she made, so very pleased with terrorizing her children.

Secondly: Mom was habitually late. Every.single.time. No matter the reason, no matter the emergency of the situation, she dawdled. OMG she dawdled. She always showed up (well most always, many times I ended up just walking home because she took so long.) So I’ll give her that. It actually wasn’t bad all the time because she was usually about 30 minutes late to church (for an hour mass) so I appreciated the shortness of the ceremony.

So that is why it makes total sense that she died ten minutes later than she would have liked.

And because this is about me all the damn time, I have felt guilty for exactly 50 years for leaving my mother to die alone. I’ve struggled with it for what seems like my whole adult life. I should have stayed. I panicked. Funnily enough, from then on, I tried to make up for it. But nope. When our little cocker spaniel needed to be euthanized, I dropped him off at the vet. Yep, feeling pretty guilty. When my second mom and beloved mentor was dying of cancer, I sat by her side at the hospital every night, all night long. Holding her hand, wishing I could keep her alive. When the time came when her breathing changed, once again I ran. I didn’t feel so bad this time because her daughters were there. This happened to me over an over until the day my son’s aunt died. I held her hand and felt so much love in the room. She slipped away quietly with me holding her hand. It felt better.

So thanks to that aunt’s son, Mom finally has a gravestone. I’ll show it off here. It’s not what I wanted it to say but I love how it turned out.

So that’s April 2, 2026, the day my mom died, the day my dog Abbey was born, and the day my dear friend’s dog Brian died.

If you have a mom, please go spend some time with her when you can. Even if you’re angry with her, make peace. Once she’s gone, your life will be forever changed.

Thanks for reading, she said to the people who never read her blog. LOL