It was about 1am this past Friday, 11/10, that I hit the ground running. With a suitcase loaded-up car, I threw it in drive and hit I-95 solo. I drove through the night with nothing but my thoughts. Even though my heart was heavy, it was oddly comforting...
I checked in with my Dad each pit-stop and even sent him my direct location. (Thank you Apple technology.) With every passing hour, I couldn't help but wonder, "would I make it?" The truth is...I didn't want to. I did not want my mother holding on for me. I did not want her to suffer a second longer than she had too. And I do not believe my soul could handle seeing her in that condition. Over the last few months, we spoke about "that moment." Numerous times. My mother had a different kind of relationship with each person in her life. Ours was special. She was the only one who truly just, got me. Understood me. She knew me. She knew who I was and who I wasn't. And loved me unconditionally. She understood my place was not watching her take her last breath.
After touching base with Dad mid-morning, I had last mentioned to him that I was just about to enter New York. What I didn't know, is he passed along that message to Mom. 
And I am glad he did. She knew I was "home." And that was good enough for her.
And I am glad he did. She knew I was "home." And that was good enough for her.
My clock turned 11:11 and it caught my eye in a way that made my tummy drop. I don't know why, but I had to pick up the phone and ring my father. He answered his cell phone in tears, kneeling at her bedside, because Mom just left us...I was on the Throgs Neck Bridge.
I immediately called my husband Julitto and just as I was beginning to tell him, a car went whizzing by me in the left hand lane; The license plate read 11:11. And just like that, I knew everything was going to be okay.
She's everywhere. Her name. Her face. Dreams. Scents. Symbols. Signs. Numbers. It hasn't slowed down since that bridge and I have a funny feeling it won't. Nor would I want it too. I can feel her everywhere. Every second. And I am grateful.
I miss her in the only form that I have known her. But I working hard to embrace her new forms of communication.
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