On August 18th, 2017, my mother, Yvette Arian, passed away. It was a surprise to everyone except me, I guess. She was healthy all her life, never broke or sprained anything, had all of her beautiful teeth and hair, and had the greatest sense of humor. She and my dad were married almost 68 years when he died at 88, and my mother tried to go one with her life, but, as time went on, she lost pretty much all of her friends, and was a starting to lose much of her memory. My mother was a very organized, meticulous person, a librarian and teacher for most of her working years and not being in control of her thoughts was tearing her apart. She told me that “living was ruining her life”, and was not happy about making it to 95 years old.
About a month or so ago, she started telling her dearest friend that she wasn’t going to be here much longer. She tried to give away some of her belongings and she told me that the only thing that was keeping her around was me.
In the early morning of August 11, the staff where she lived found her on the floor of the bathroom. She had had a massive stroke. IN the hospital that morning, I leaned over and told her that she didn’t have to worry anymore, that she had figured out a way to depart and that I would be there to keep her company. She grabbed my hand and tried to smile. My mother died in an organized and meticulous way. I would not have expected anything less from her.
I have always been proud of my mother, but never as much as I was as I watched her face her death with such class. She set a very high bar for me. I hope I can make her proud.