On this morning’s run, I was thinking about my mom.

This week makes

30 years…

30 years since she became an Angel.

As I was running, I was remembering details of that Saturday. I knew my dad was at the hospital with the medical team and a priest … unplugging her life support.

It was mid afternoon when he drove into the lane at Dwyer Hill.

Scott (then boyfriend; now husband) and I were packing up my brother, Danny, for hockey practice. My mom’s sister was there, too. 

We spoke no words but it was clear mom had passed. We had no warning of their arrival before the days of email and texting. There was no expectation of a call by pay phone.

It was 1993.

Danny was 13.

He didn’t know what had transpired.

We whisked him off to the arena.

Next we faced everyone asking questions.

I couldn’t speak.

Luckily, Scott can talk.

Talk he did.

While we were at the rink, dad and Auntie Debbie talked with Katie (15) Laura (11) and Martha (8 turning 9)… they were completely unprepared.

Always thinking mom was coming home.

30 years and it still stings.

I was 19.

I was just a kid too.

This heavy week wraps up the ‘season of grieving’, as I’ve come to see it.

I’m still here.

And no matter what you’re going through right now, Self Made Nation, you are strong enough to take it in your stride.

Colleen