Michele DeVille

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Room 719

There are certain events that happen in our lives that will never be forgotten. Events that become part of who we are and sometimes, the place those events occur are etched deeply into our hearts and minds - forever. One of those places for me is Room 719. The room where my mom took her last breath and died.

To many, Room 719 is just that. It’s one room of many in the middle of a busy hospital filled with patients coming from near and far.

But for me, Room 719 is so much more than a room. It’s a sacred place where my mom spent her final moments and over the course of 12 painful days, it’s a room where she slowly slipped away from our family.

In part, I think of painful things when I think about Room 719. I think about IV bags, monitors, beeping, emergency teams, needles, pudding and ice chips, doctors, nurses, and sleeping in an uncomfortable chair all night long.

I think of the fear, helplessness, and desperation to save her while having to let her go at the same time.

It’s hard not to think about the struggle as my mom fought to survive, the constant trips to get yet another MRI, the rounds of tests, or staring at the monitors as her vitals continually changed from one moment to the next. It’s a room of waiting and watching her chest rise and fall - wondering if the end was near or if her breathing had stopped.

It’s difficult to forget the heartache and devastation as we struggled to make the decision to put our mom on hospice and the heartache of having to do something we didn’t want to do but had no choice.

And regardless of how hard I try, it’s difficult to get the images of my mom out of my head the moment she took her last breath and died. It’s impossible to forget the blank look in her eyes as the shock set in that she was actually gone.

I didn’t want to accept it and I didn’t want to let go of her hand or leave Room 719. I wanted to crawl into bed with her and hug her back to life.

Even now, the pain creeps into my bones and the tears are hovering on the edges of my eyes.

But there are also good memories to hold onto when I think of Room 719.

Like so many other things in life, there was beauty, joy, and connection in the midst of the grief and pain.

Room 719 was a place for family and friends to come together in honor of my wonderful mom, grandmother, great-grandmother, sister, aunt, cousin, and friend.

It was a room that housed shared stories, moments of laughter alongside the tears, and lots of hand holding, and warm hugs. It was a room with a view of beautiful sunsets on those crisp October days. It was a room filled with family and friends.

Room 719 was a place that at times felt peaceful during the middle of the night when everything was quiet and it was just me and my mom. Looking back, I’m so grateful for those moments and I treasure each and every one.

I told my mom I loved her so many times inside of that room and during her final days of life. I hugged her, talked to her, calmed her, and we all covered her with so much love.

And there were times that we saw glimpses of our mom and it brought us so much joy. She said some of the funniest things and it felt good to smile and laugh with her even if it didn’t last for long.

It was a long 12 days and days I will never ever forget. It was a time of heartache, loss, grief, and I still struggle to accept she’s gone.

But it was also 12 days that brought the gift of time. A gift to spend every day with her and remind her of how much she was adored and loved.

I will never forget Room 719 and even just yesterday, I found a sticker that I had to wear every time I signed in to her floor. A sticker that will forever say 719 and one I will always keep.

To many, it’s just a hospital room. But to me, it’s part of my moms story. It’s part of my story and one that’s penned in love, loss, and grief. It’s a place that brought both pain and joy. It’s a room that was filled with so much love.

I’m sorry if you know the pain of loss and grief. I know how difficult the journey really is. And it’s my hope that you can find space in your heart to carry both grief AND joy when you think of your loved one and all of the love and memories shared.

With love -

michele