May 7th- I Didn't Think It Would Be Friday

 

I joined JP in the sunroom, sitting on a love seat, cuddled in together. He laid his head on my shoulder as I silently cried. I remember feeling hurt that my Mom didn't want my help, kept asking me to go. 

I know better now. I didn't think it would be Friday. 

She screamed for help and Dan went running. He tried over and over again to help, to get her comfortable. She said it hurt too much. 

Situated at the opposite end of the hallway I could hear her telling him, " send Juli home. Tell her to go home." Dan told my Mom in the softest, sweetest tone, "I'm not the boss of her. Juli can do what she wants, Diane." She kept telling him to send me home. 

This time, I don't know why, and I wish I hadn't, but I listened. I obeyed. I granted her request and I packed up to leave. I sent Dan a text from where I was in the kitchen to him in Mom's room, "We'll leave. Love you guys."

It was 6:38pm. 

I didn't think it would be Friday. 

Somewhere along Rt 1 Dan called at 7:05pm. He said Mom agreed to an ambulance and to meet him at Kent. I finished the ride to take JP home so I could turn back around to the hospital. 

Dan called again. "Your Mom is in the ambulance, she's unresponsive." 

It was 7:28pm. 

I didn't think it would be Friday. 

Dan had called the ambulance and returned to my Mom. She was then speaking gibberish to him and he later told me he wished I could have helped him decipher what she was saying. He left her room once more to open the door in preparation for the paramedics. He took the pistons off the screen door. He propped it open with a flower pot on the front step. He propped the front door open on the inside. 

In the span of 30 seconds after that call I texted Evans an "I need you. NOW" message. I called my brother. I had JP pack a bag. I called his best bud's to say I was dropping him off. I Prayed. We met Evans in the driveway. He was already there. 

As Evans sped me out of Clayton, we were pulled over. I was hysterical, to say the least, in the passenger seat of his truck. After a short greeting of comrades and a wish for safe travels, Evans began to pull out. But my phone rang again from Dan. 

He had returned to her room and...

"She's gone. She's gone, Juli. She's gone." 

It was 7:37pm.