Could it be real? This moment

I'm here. Merry Christmas.
I'm by no means feeling alone despite being solo here by my mom's bedside, as her respirator goes off incessantly.
The constant drone and steady inhale and exhale of my mom's breath tells me she's still here.
She's moans and groans as if in pain, but I'm aware that she isn't. "Yes mommy, I'm right here. You're safe. I'm right here." I feel the current occasional word she says it's her semi delirious state it's just her working through every memory she wants to revisit. Right now, she's in Hawaii, Oahu specifically - which I know was where she spent her honeymoon, decades ago with my dad who's no longer in her life.
I feel blessed enough to be by her bedside right this second, but I also struggle with the realization that I'm losing her.
This woman who showed me how to be faithful, to be honest to myself, to own every mistake I make, to be there for others because that is what gives us purpose, and to be my own person because God made me wonderfully.
I have had days, right here, freaking out, accepting, and working through what must be the stages of grief.
For every person I've met, named and unnamed, this week - I'm grateful, thankful, innumerably hopeful for the world because despite you not knowing me, you have taken me into your fold, and held me when I didn't know I needed it. Looking back, it could be God's way of sending his angels. You were showing up.
"For we are never alone, and you are always with us." I was made to be here. I dreamt it decades ago, and it terrifies and settles me at the same time. Beyond the veil, we see what we were made for. We are fearfully and wonderfully made, in His image. He has a plan, and I trust it - even though in this very moment, I feel like it sucks. balls. ass. whatever. haha.
I'm taking a moment, right now, for... me. To tell myself, you are going to be OK. For you are strong, you have support, you are never alone, you have an army, and you are loved. The same words I'm telling my mom. Maybe I'm talking myself through this by talking to mom. It's OK, mom. I love you.
For every tear I cry, I hydrate. Because I want to keep crying, and feel every moment of this. I am not afraid. Because my mom is an angel, just walking this earth - for now.