I always thought, when I was young, that my mom would be around forever. I think it's this feeling of infinity that creates an atmosphere of invincibility when we are teenagers. Nothing can touch us; nothing can hurt us. The world is our oyster, there for the taking.

Then it all drops from our stomach like a sudden dip in a plane ride.

My mom had what is called a "grand-maul" stroke Saturday morning. She lays in her bed, curled up in the fetal position, mouth open, head cocked back, unresponsive.

It's funny. I remember always curling up in the fetal position when I was really sick. Anytime that happened (rarely, as I recall), my mom would always be there. It's almost as if her very presence - even in another room - automatically calmed me. Let me know I wasn't alone.

This theory was proven when I first became really sick at college. At the apex of my sickness, I remember laying in my bed, in the fetal position, only wanting my mother. I felt like I was reverting back to my childhood. I was so dizzy and weak...I started to call out to my mom. But by this time she had already been diagnosed and was reverting back herself.

I wonder, in that moment, if we met each other - both as two young children, wanting so deeply to be gently touched on the forehead and told that everything would be okay. On that day, perhaps we visited each other in a surreal and spiritual setting.

I'm not one for omens or signs, but as I was driving my roommate's car last Sunday, I felt a severe...something...in me. I can only describe it as the absolutely certainty that my mother had died. I pulled over and started to lose it. But I knew what I felt. It was as if my mom had gathered all her remaining sanity - all her mental strength hidden so far away - and touched me for one second:

To tell me everything was going to be okay.

She is not responding as I write this. My sister and dad are preparing for the end. I think we have all been preparing for the past four years.

My sister, who sees Mom everyday, who has fed her and walked with her since she went to the home, is pregnant for the first time. What an interesting dynamic: death and life so near to each other.

I know she wishes Mom could see and know her grandchild. Mom had this way with children. Even we she began to revert back mentally, it was as if her grandchildren always understood. They seemed to get along even better as my mom declined. They got each other.

What a raw emotion death brings on. How numb I feel right now.

It was raining in Texas yesterday, for the first time in months. My mom told me once that she loved rainy days. Instead of being depressing, they gave everyone the excuse to be lazy. To enjoy the spiritual flavor that rain brings.

It would have been appropriate for her to die on a rainy day. It was raining in Minnesota, too. Imagine that - rain in January. I don't believe everything happens for a reason, but sometimes it's so hard to ignore. There's something at work here.

Something or someone who loves us. And wants to be present.