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She is Gone

A friend texted me last Tuesday morning at 6:46 am.

“How's ur mom this morning?” she wrote.


Seven hours earlier, I had texted her to cancel our morning art class/playdate. I was rushing to the hospital; my mom had gone into septic shock.

The hours between were a blur of driving, waiting, and crying. I could hardly see my phone, move my fingers, or even breathe. “She is gone” I typed.


She is gone. The words echoed in my brain over and over and over.

She is gone.

She is gone.

There would never be another hug, another smile, another family trip. No more kids tickled, no more stories read, no more cheeks kissed or necks nuzzled.

She was gone.

She had stopped breathing only minutes earlier. Flat lines still buzzed across monitors; leads were still attached to her skin. Her eyes were still open; her skin was still warm. My sister still sat at her bedside, still holding her motionless hand.


Nothing had changed, but nothing was the same.

The moment I had been anticipating and dreading came and went, and I couldn't believe it.

I had been devastated for so long, I thought it couldn't get worse.


It got worse.

Nothing could fix my broken heart, not even the knowledge that she was finally free from pain.

There was no solace, but there was support. Friends gathered around, emailing and texting and calling and sending Facebook messages. My sisters and my grandma cried with me, and the load seemed lighter spread among us.


Planning a funeral is ridiculously expensive and consuming. We spent every minute of every day making arrangements.

The church was peaceful and serene. The flowers were beautiful. The pictures were a perfect reflection of a life well-lived. Everything was bright and colorful and befitted my mother.


Her longtime friend performed the funeral and delivered a short message about her sense of humor and infectious laugh. He started 5 minutes late, homage to a woman who was never on time for anything in her entire life.


My older sister and I witnessed her cremation today, and a portion of her ashes are tucked away in a safe spot in my home.

Disbelief still sits heavy on my chest. I can't believe that I will never see her face or hear her voice again, but I won't.

She is gone.

© 2013 – 2018, Tara Ziegmont. All rights reserved.

41 thoughts on “She is Gone”

  1. I have been there myself a couple of years ago with my own mother. It still seems surreal. The other night I was listening to the news and they talked about Loretta Lynn’s oldest child passing away and my first thought was to call my mom and ask her if she knew. Sending you lots of love and hugs. From one motherless daughter to another.

  2. So, so sorry – words cannot help the pain. I pray for peace and comfort for yourself and for your family, losing your mom is horribly painful and there will always be a little spot aching for her. I lost my mom 7 years ago and I pray you can hang on her memories and find comfort in those in the days to come.

  3. I know there aren’t words that can comfort you during this incredibly difficult time but please know that I’m thinking of you, sending all my love, and am never too far away via Skype if you need someone to talk to even in the middle of the night.

  4. Please accept my sincere condolences. I’ve been where you are, losing my mom at a young age. Please give yourself time to grieve and I promise it will get easier. I know that ache in your heart. Please take care <3

  5. So sorry for your loss, thank you for sharing about her.

    I was reflecting on meeting you four years ago at BlogHer at the bowling alley when I saw a tweet about your mom. Your family is in my thoughts.

  6. Tara – you have been on my mind and in my heart since I heard of your mom’s passing. You give the best hugs and I wish I could give you one back right now , listen to you tell me all about your mom and just sit with you. This post is a beautiful tribute.


  7. Tara – I am so sorry for your loss. Heartbroken for you. Thinking about you and your family during this very difficult time and sending virtual hugs to you all. xoxoxo

    • Thanks Gina. It’s been a very busy and very difficult summer. She got weaker and weaker through June, almost died on July 5, went into the hospital, transferred to a “rehab” center on July 11, then went back to the hospital on the 29th. We never went more than a day without taking the kids to see her, so I did a whole lot of driving and running around and entertaining my girls in the nursing home. I feel like the summer has barely started.

  8. I am sorry for you loss and as usual, words fail me and seem inadequate at times such as this. I pray for your comfort in the coming days and weeks as each new first rolls around that she will be gone. God bless you and yours!

  9. You’ve been on my mind lately and I’ve been praying for your comfort. My dad has been gone almost 2 years. It’s a tough road, but you have lots of support which makes dealing with grief a little more bearable. Sending hugs!

  10. Oh I’m so so sorry to hear this. Will be praying for you and your family. Nothing like our Momma’s. I know you will hold her forever in your heart, and keep her memory alive through stories to your children. Hugs!

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