At 4:15 pm, Christmas Eve of 1994, those words came from my telephone. On the other end of the line, sounding a long-distance away, was a nurse at Mesa Lutheran Hospital.
The nurse explained in a soft voice that my mother had experienced a pulmonary embolism, which killed her in less than a minute. She explained that it was a clot that affected the lungs, blocking blood and oxygen circulation.
Everything after that was a blur. Through my tears and grief I heard her say that if I came to the hospital in around an hour I could visit her. I said I'd be there. After that I called other family members to let them know.
I write of her death during this time because the Christmas season has never been the same since she passed. I always thought of it as a joyous season. But somehow, since her passing, it's different.
I think one of the reasons it's so is because the last time I saw her she had a discharge plan which would have had her released the next day. The staff had said nothing to indicate it was premature to release her.
Even though it's been 26 years, her departure is still fresh in my mind and heart - and probably always will be. It may be the shock of her sudden death or it may simply be that I lost a life-long friend who had tried to do so much to help me change my life.
I know she'd be happy to see how things turned out.
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