The Last Days

Today my sister and I put our Mom on hospice care. It is amazing to actually confirm this action by writing about it. I guess that this is the beginning of the end. And it makes her death more certain, more real. I never thought that this is how it would feel. Maybe, the thing is, I was just trying not to think about it at all. A nice big serving of denial, anyone?

My mom is 86. Is that old? Is that the right time to die? Is any time ever "the right time" in our own minds? When did old happen to her? When will it happen to me? Will it sneak up like a thief in the night, and just snatch me? Or will it travel slowly, creeping stealthily to take away whatever youth I still possess? This hospice decision, crazily enough, makes my own death more imminent, more real, more in my face. My mom will die some day soon, and I am a part of her. This has become more and more apparent with age.

My mom has had a difficult and, according to her, unhappy life. This concept, this unhappiness, was, to a large degree, hidden away from my ever trusting eyes until shortly after my father passed away. Much of the difficulty is of her own making, and the result of shocking choices. (I will write about this at a later date.) However, I find that at this moment there is very little blame or resentment in my heart. What is really written all over my heart is her love for me, and also my younger sister, Rena. Mom's adoration for us was born of an illicit affair that was practiced for 6 long years, and devastatingly put in the closet to stay hidden there, darkly taunting and furtively chasing Rena and I as two unsuspecting children. This mother love was stated, out loud, in the most embarrassing of places, at the most indecent of times, in front of the most unsuspecting people, especially over the last few years when dementia played a role in almost every aspect of her life. And hardest of all, it was and is a favoritism kind of love that was voiced, loud and clear, in front of our older siblings.

My mother's impending death is uncomfortable. Does that sound understated? I see her feeling peaceful about this decision to stop taking her medications. I see her peaceful about meeting her Maker. I see her peaceful about going to be with my dad, her husband. She is okay with her own death. She is ready to go to her heavenly home. She has said this to me.

I am not peaceful about many factors of this difficult situation. I am worried about my older brother and sister being a part of this process, because there is an unsettling lack of trust and friendship between them and myself. I haven't walked a mile in their shoes, but I can say that neither of them are people I admire, or would emulate. And while they have all but lost contact with Mom, I suppose they may come to her during these last days, and that they will come to her memorial service. My heart is beating erratically just thinking about this event. This is about so much more than losing my mom.

I will write more later...This has me pretty wrung out.