The phone rang last Thursday night. I didn’t recognize the number so I didn’t answer. A woman began to leave a message. I couldn’t tell what she was saying, but then I heard the words “Nancy” and “Ambulance.” My mom passed out at Zumba class and was vomiting. When I arrived, the paramedics had her on a stretcher and were preparing to take her to the hospital.
My dad took the keys to her car and drove to the hospital. I sat in my car...and then it hit me...I was alone. Usually, an event like this would be followed up with a call to my brother. We would talk about our parents and their health. He never felt good about living so far away from them, but took comfort in the fact that I was here.
This is the first Christmas without Matt. Something tells me that every Christmas from now on will not be the same. It’s something that I can’t explain. It’s something you would not understand unless you’ve lost someone this way. It’s something I hope you don’t ever have to experience.
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