A year ago today, at this moment, I heard “Code Blue” and a cavalcade of doctors and nurses rushed into the Cardiac ICU unit to try and resuscitate my mom.
This wasn’t the first time. In 2004 she lost consciousness for approximately 10 minutes and was revived. Later, her installed defibrillator discharged frequently, indicating that her erratic heartbeat had moved outside of safe limits.
Two days before this moment a year ago today, she lost consciousness again, for minutes, and was brought back again.
So this time when the doctor walked out of the ICU with choked up voice and said “we did everything we could do” – that was the shock that got to me.
People don’t die and come back that often. And despite the fact my mom lost her heartbeat, she never lost her heart.
It’s funny how the most potent memories we have of someone we lost are our final ones when we have a lifetime of good ones to choose from. How self-serving that we pick the last one, assign so much meaning to it, look for evidence of a profound regret or awakening.
It’s been one year without new memories of my mom and that’s the most difficult part. We spoke almost constantly, an unending conversation of love and lessons. I have a lifetime of funny quips, stories, instructions, and crucially, grace.
My mom was the most graceful person I’ve ever known. She could walk into a room with absolute elegance and poise (a trait that must’ve skipped me, I’m clumsy as all hell) and make you feel better just by talking to you. But she was by no means a pushover or porcelain figurine. She could drink and cuss like a sailor. She could tell you to go to hell – and you’d be thankful she did. But everything came from the heart.
My mother had endless patience for imperfect people, to the point where I think she felt it was her duty in life to be an advocate for them, to listen when no one else would.
By extension, she taught me to never think I was better – or worse – than anyone else; that the accumulation of things don’t make you who you are.
I already have my dad’s temper, his intellect, his gregariousness, his toughness. I’m still searching for my mom’s traits within me, because she was so much my dad’s equal – he set his watch by her approval. What they had together was love, and I watched each of them struggle to live without each other towards the end of their lives.
Now they’re together.
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You’ve lost so much at such a young age. Your Mom was a beautiful and very elegant woman who is missed and thought of often. Your parents were always so welcoming and enjoyable to visit. We miss visiting with you and your family. You are all in our thoughts, prayers and hearts. Sending you positive memories, strength, prayers and hugs today and always.🙏❤
Mrs. Torosian looks exactly as you described her, a woman of grace and happiness. When you said she had elegance and poise, it made me think of my beloved grandmother who also had an air of dignity about her – no matter where she was. I see those same traits maturing in you because you are learning to love and respect yourself as you are. Lots of love.
Two of the greatest humans I knew crafted one of my favorites. Fortunate to have known and spent time with both.
I come back and read this about once a year.