EPTThe bus driver called me on my phone, apparently he had found my number in my mum's purse. It wasn't far from home. I ran to the garage for the moped when I realized I had forgotten the helmet. Ran back and got it. The crappy moped wouldn't start. Had to run on foot. Cars turning around because the street was blocked. Firemen, bus passengers and paramedics everywhere. I only saw my mother briefly: she was lying on a stretcher, topless, medics heart massaging her. An aidman took me into a bystanding ambulance vehicle. I feared the worst already, but I followed him regardless so the paramedics could do their work without me disturbing them. Phoned my father. Dad drives directly to the hospital because the street's closed anyway. An aidman wants to know my mother's date of birth, I am too upset to recall it correctly. Some time later the attending physician comes in. "I'm very sorry. We did what we could, but we couldn't help her any more. The head injuries... sorry." After he leaves, I realize what he just said and cry in pain, alone in the empty rescue van. I call my father. He is completely shocked, he didn't know it was that bad. How hard must it have been for him, getting all the news only on the phone and having to wait in uncertainty?
The rescue van takes me to the hospital where my father waits. I quietly stare at the ground the whole ride through. Can't find my father, an aidman goes searching for him. Dad comes. We hug each other, cry hard. They take us to a separate room where we can be alone.
My father is desperate. I'm his only son and he's so afraid of being alone. Nurse comes in, tells us they're gonna clean and prepare her so we can see her later. My mother was very well known in the hospital, where she's been working as a secretary for 39 years. Various doctors who knew her and stuff come in and offer condolences. My dad calls my aunt/mum's sister and some close friends. A random young newbie preacher comes, doesn't even know what happened but offers his spiritual help. I don't give a damn about religion, but my father does, so the cleric stays. We pray a bit, then go over to the room where my dead mother is laid out. She's pale and cold already, although the accident happened only 2 hours earlier. This disgusts me somewhat when I give her a last kiss on her forehead. I mentally scold myself for feeling this way, but I can't help it.
Back in the other separate room. My aunt arrives, bursting out in tears. A friendly married couple arrives shortly after her. They all go to see the body. I don't want to and stay in the room alone, staring at the ground again. A friendly nurse brings me tea. Turns out she went to school with my cousin and thus knows my aunt. Small world.
Later on, when all are back, an unsympathetic psychologist comes and kinda holds a speech which I'm not interested in. She gives us sleeping pills for tonight. Dad and I don't give much about psycho stuff and avoid drugs when possible, but we take the sleeping pills with us, just in case.
The friendly couple drives us home (They're still sitting in the living room with my father right now). On the way home, we pass the place of the accident. It's all been cleaned up, I briefly wonder where my mother's car is. They have used road salt and put up warning signs. Won't help my mother now - we have a bitter laugh together.
I don't want to sit around with them, so I take a shower and go to my room. I call my best friend on the phone. He is ready for the bad news, as he has already read about a deadly accident of a 57-year-old lady in a red Smart and figured it'd probably be my mother. I ask him to tell my other friends. I sit down to my computer. It's still running from when I rushed off to the accident site. I find it tasteless to act as if nothing had happened, but I don't know what else to do. Another two good friends approach me via ICQ. We talk a bit, condolences, they're there for me etc. I know they mean it. I don't have very many friends, but those I do have I know are real friends. Now I'm writing this blog. It saddens me a bit that this is the thing I choose to do in this situation, but I don't have any better ideas. Maybe I'll laugh about it sometime in the future, or look back and cry.
My mother would have retired next summer. She was looking forward to her retirement, wanted to travel around a lot and maybe take a few fun courses at the university. My dad's retiring soon too, and both have no major health problems, so it would all have worked out wonderfully.
But there was black ice on the road just two curves away from home.
Update, 2 days after the accident
Thanks for your condolences guys. I don't know a single one of you, but still it's somehow nice to hear.
I'm in surprisingly good mood right now. Enthusiastic almost. It's surreal. It appears the depressing thoughts come in waves. Yesterday afternoon, we had to search up a nice photograph of my mum, for the undertaker. That was hard, so fucking hard. I had no problems at all in the morning (where we had lots of stuff to organize) or in the evening (where I hung out with friends and had a good time almost like nothing had happened, except for hugs instead of handshakes for greetings). Distraction helps me greatly at the moment. Time to think makes me stare around again.
Fun fact: my metabolism has changed. I'm not eating a whole lot (which is common in such situation I guess), but I sure do excrete a lot. I took 4 craps and about 10 pisses yesterday. I wonder how my body does that
I'm gonna use the perfect weather to go sledding now, and party into the new year tonight as has been planned for weeks. Might be insensitive, but anything that helps me is fair game I guess. I'm known for being mentally stable and almost always acting rationally, and that's not gonna change now. I'm not stopping car driving for example or anything like that. The next crushing wave of sadness will be coming, but for the moment I really am fine. My father is more or less ok too I guess, although not as good as me yet. I know we will be alright sometime.
I'm fucking scared of the funeral, which will take place on monday. But after that, I hope we can find back to our new everyday lives and find happiness again.
Here's a little side story. My mother told me just one day before her death that she had bowel cancer. She had gotten the diagnosis 2 weeks ago already, but out of respect waited for the holidays to kick in before she told me. The cancer was discovered quite early, and her chances would have been good. But still, I had these thoughts of her becoming ill and bedridden... you know, I worked in a home for old people for a year for my civil service. I saw people waste away. Dozens. I knew them all and had to nurse them until their deaths. It wasn't much fun for either party involved, as you can imagine. The most important lesson I took from my civil service is that lingering illness is worse than death. I am so glad that my mum didn't have to suffer. When I die, I want it to be quick too.
