Well, shortly after sending my last journal, my mother died. It happened on 10:04 am, Central time. My dad was there when he noticed her breathing getting shorter and shorter, with longer pauses. I came inside the room, thinking my dad called for me. That's when I noticed my mother dying. I went back to the living room of the hospice and asked for my sister. At the time, my dad only wanted us there. However, I felt the other family memebers had to know so I rushed back into the living room to tell them she was going to pass away now.

It was the longest few minutes of my life. My mom really fought to the end. She took deep breathes. I tried not to cry but couldn't help it, seeing her mouth foam and her tongue sticking out horribly as she tried to breath. Still, I didn't tell her to stay here in this world. In fact, I told my family members, when they arrived in the room, NOT to beg her to stay. That would've only made her want to stay and struggle and endure more pain. Instead, we circled around her bed, held hands, and watched her die.

I feel sorry for my dad. He told me he felt her slip away. My mom's been asleep for many days and hadn't opened her eyes. He told me, just minutes after telling her that he couldn't take the pain anymore, that she opened her eye. She was looking up, as if something was there, he said.

Dying is horrible. She died *peacefully* in the sense that she didn't die with a seizure. However, watching her foam at the mouth, breath horribly, take long pauses before inhaling again, and having her eyes stare straight at the ceiling without blinking... my god, I can't think of death as being peaceful AT ALL. Even if you're dead asleep, it's fucking horrible. If it's not the visual thing that freaks you out, it's the sounds they make. Worse, it's the moment you're waiting for, right when you know longer hear life in that body anymore.

I'm sorry. I don't want to freak out or scare anyone whose reading this. I'm reading all the replies left for me and realize some are blessed never to witness this while others are recalling their own horrible stories. But this is how I feel. I'm writing this journal for me. On the outside, I'm okay. I have to be. My dad is having a terrible time but he, too, is trying to cope. Inside me, though, I want to cry.

Spring Break is next week. I plan to use the time to stay close with my dad. We've both been good sports in trying to cheer ourselves up.

I got to go now. tomorrow is the rosary. I'm making a 11X17 tribute poster for my mom and need to getting scans done soon. I'll print at school sicne they're open late and have good quality paper. Fuck Kinkos. My mom deserves a lot better.

BTW, we chose a beautiful basket. Way better than that shitty shoebox they offer for the unfortunate families who can't afford a deceit funeral. We were lucky my mom had life insurance. And spearking of which, I HIGHLY recommend you guys talk about that. I know the commericals sound cheesy, but they're right about talking. You need to talk about stuff like this, especially if you have a relative who has a disease or won't be here in this world for long.

Thanks for the prayers and comments. I'm post a reply to each of you when I have the time. Right now, I need to focus on the funeral and my dad.