Sending a loved one off to heaven is basically hell!

It's been a week since I last seen my mother alive. Although I did not get to speak with her, I watched as she slept peacefully, watching as she took each breath, quietly waiting for her to awake. She never awoke before I left, and I kissed her on the head, lightly squeezed her arm and said I love you, before I left that night. At 11 am the next morning, I had been awoken by a phone call from my dad. He had told me that she was awake, that Deb had called and talked to her, and that the hospice expected her to live a few more days. He asked me to pick up my brother Bill after work and bring him by to see her. I started making phone calls around as I needed to get my car back into service. At one point, my cell phone rang and it was my husband. I told him I couldn't talk and hung up. Then while I was on the phone, I heard the call waiting go off several times to which I ignored. As soon as I hung up with the service dept. The phone rang and it is my husband. He's calling to tell me that Vince just called, and sadly, my mom passed away. Hysterically I cried, because if I wanted to go see her, I needed to hurry and go before they take her to the morgue. Ruben said that he was leaving town soon and would be here later that night. Seeing her so peacefully laying there without pain was a combination of both good and bad. Her eyes had not shut completely, so it appeared as though any minute she was just going to start talking to you, but once you felt her cold hard skin - you knew it was the real thing and there was no coming back from it. I tried to be strong, yet the inner child in me broke down, saying I'm too young for her to die. I still need a mother, yet my husband's words rang true in my heart saying that you can't just keep her here because you want her here, that I have to let go because this is what she wanted - to be free from pain. Walking out of that room and leaving her there alone waiting for the morgue to come get her was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life. Over the next day, my father and I began making basic arrangements for her memorial - per her request. She did not want an open casket for fear they would not make her look the way she once did. She did not want a funeral. We simply had a few flowers, some pictures to memorialize her and each of us kids, plus some friends - stood up and gave a brief eulogy type reading, then we prayed, and sung and headed off for refreshments in the rec room.
This is a poem I found online, written by an unknown author. I read this poem in honor of my mother, as I found it so fitting.

The Day God Took You Home
In tears we saw you sinking,
And watched you pass away.
Our hearts were almost broken,
We wanted you to stay.
But when we saw you sleeping,
So peaceful, free from pain,
How could we wish you back with us,
To suffer that again.
It broke our hearts to lose you,
But you did not go alone,
For part of us went with you,
The day God took you home.