farewell to a beloved mother (m)

I wake up everday and hope it was just a bad dream.  My mother is dead.  That is the first thought that enters my head.  I get a pit in my stomach and a lump in my throat. 

It's been three weeks and I still pick up the phone to call her several times a day.  Likewise, when the phone rings, I run to get it, expecting her to be on the other end to tell me to "put Channel 7 on...there's a woman on there who lost a lot of weight."

I'm struggling with the sudden loss of my mother who was my constant companion and best friend.  When I go to sleep at night, my brain replays the last three nights in the hospital with her.  We never saw it coming.  Nor did the doctors.  She was at the mall with me on Tuesday (with the shopping carriage she pilfered from Home Goods and strutted into Macy's with) and with my brother on Wednesday (acting as sous chef, helping him and my sister-in-law get ready for a dinner party).  On Thursday, she called my brother to take her to Stop & Shop to return sour milk.  In the car with him, her stomach started cramping.  "It's the sour milk," she said.

But it wasn't. 

It was a blood clot in her abdomen which eventually traveled to her lungs.  I watched helplessly as the heart monitor went to a flat line.  All I could do was tell her I love her and thank her for all she did for me and my brothers.

I know I have to move on and I will.  Right now, I just want to put a pillow over my head.