Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Four years later, and I'm sitting here, still trying to figure out what happened.
It was Friday, and though, glad to see the weekend, I was sad because Lauren wasn't coming home. She wasn't feeling well and said she had a bad feeling about making the drive. Sunday was Father's day and we had planned a big family thing. Also she had committed to clerk for the Texas state twirling contest. But she called the day before and said she wasn't coming.
I called her around 7:00 pm and she sounded weak and tired. I knew she had a lot going on, so.... I said I love you, she said she loved me too. Those were the last words I would ever hear her speak.
Around 10:30, we were watching a ball game, I think. The phone rang and it was Amy, her roommate. She was hysterical, said Lauren wasn't breathing. We got it together and jumped in the car. It was the longest drive to the worst day of my life. We arrived at the hospital around 4:00 am on June 17th. The doctor said she had died at 3:15 am.
She had been bleeding internally for some time and took some Midol for cramps. The aspirin in the Midol thinned her blood enough that she just bled out. I still don't know why.
They gave her nine units of blood and seven of plasma. Did they run out? Would they have kept trying to save her if we had gotten there 45 minutes earlier? Did they see the word donor on her drivers license and did it influence their decision? Or did she just pass? Maybe I should have insisted she enroll in a college closer to home.
Ive tried to put it in perspective. Mothers have lost children for thousands of years. Rose Kennedy lost three. You see women on the news in war torn countries who loose their entire families.
I try to put it in perspective, but the truth is, they didn't loose Lauren.
I once thought about parents who had lost children and thought, how do they wake up and face a new day, every day? Now I know. At first, you just don't sleep. I stayed awake for three days. Everyone tried to get me to nap or something. But I just couldn't stand the thought of waking up and knowing it was still true. It hadn't been a dream.
I dream about her all the time now. sometimes she's a little girl and I'm sad and holding on to her like I know something will take her away from me. Other times, she's just Lauren and she is wonderful.
I still miss her so much, I think I will die, but I don't. The hardest thing about grief is, you think it will kill you, but you just keep breathing and your heart keeps beating.
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