06/08/2024
This morning, one of the kindess, most selfless and beautiful humans (inside and out) that I’ve ever known, passed away. She was my mother. She was also the most loving and loyal wife, sister, auntie and friend.
For the past 25 months to the day since my father died, she has been suffering with the loss of him and a cruel, debilitating and dehumanizing disease called dementia.
I have asked dad many times over the past 25 months to “please take mom”, just so that she didn’t have to continue to deteriorate, while her adoring children watched. But we watched. We watched our revered mother drift away, until she was gone, even though her body was still here. She was gone years ago. She looked like our mother, she sounded like our mother, but it simply was not her anymore. And she was so frustrated and sometimes terrified by the changes occurring in her brain which she had no control of and that we as a society allow her and so many others to simply suffer through. We watched her long term then midterm then short term memory disappear. She then lost her coordination and began to fall. This turned into needing a wheelchair and her losing of her ability to walk. In the end, she could not care for herself at all, like she was a newborn baby again.
I am so furious at this disease and how it stripped me of the ability to sometimes remember the incredible woman my mother was. Instead of her kind, soft voice, the disease gave mom a mean voice and harsh words emanated from her lips- words she had never uttered. Instead of her warm, loving arms, the disease said “don’t touch me”. Instead of her graceful eyes greeting us when she saw us, the disease was a blank stare or a glare, as though she was enraged. And our mother was simply anything but.
I’m furious that our healthcare system would let someone as kind, humble and affectionate as my mother- anyone for that matter- suffer like she did.
I am grateful that I was able to spend decades with her that were amazing. And I am forever grateful for the time and greater power allowed me to spend with her yesterday. You see, she became terribly sick on Thursday but yesterday, for reasons I can’t explain, she rebounded. And I was able to share time with her during that short-lived rebound.
We listened to Frank Sinatra and I read her a letter from her nephew sent from New Zealand. I danced in a silly way in a desperate attempt to see her smile, which she did. I just didn’t know it would be the last time.
Yesterday mom was at peace. I could see it in her eyes and in the corners of her mouth, which were turned upwards, ever so slightly. Sitting here now, I can see her sitting across from me with her eyes closed and smiling, her face at peace, as her head bobbed up and down to the sound of Frank.
Rest in Peace mom. I am so blessed you were mine.
PS- I’m sorry to use this post as a platform for my ranting, but I hope you can understand. I’m hurting.
