At the time I am writing this, it has been a month since my Mom passed away. I have left my blog finding myself unable to write. When a major life event happens everything else fades away into insignificancefor awhile. In my heart I know I have to write our story and share with the belief it will be of significance to someone else. This is a love story, the final days of my mother's life and how it changed all of us forever.
Like so many of my friends and people I know as our parents age we enter into the role of caregivers. Caring for my Mom the past almost two years was not always easy but her health improved dramatically and her last year was a good one. I was to be away for a couple weeks so the day before I left we were to the geriatric specialist for a recheck and everything was fine. I left and a week later her caregiver called saying she was agitated, weak and was in hospital but they could not find anything wrong really. I spoke to my Mom and she said not to come home, the following day her vitals were dropping, no reason again and she would not eat. I flew home overnight went straight to the hospital. I walked in to see my Mom sitting up with her eyes closed trembling and asking to lay down. As I walked across to her I knew in my heart she was dying. She knew me but was agitated and hallucinating. There were three other people in the room, bed alarms were going off and all I could think was my mother cannot die like this. The nurse came in and said they could not find anything wrong, luckily the specialist who saw her the week before was in the hospital. He came in to see her and I said to him I believe she is dying. With his help we got her quickly moved to a private room into palliative care. It was the last time she spoke. They made her comfortable, I left for a short while to come home, change and go to her place to pick up a CD player, her favorite CD's, blanket, scarves she liked and pictures. I also took time to read up about dying and the final weeks, days and it was my Mom's story, it was comforting and very helpful.
My brother flew overnight and arrived the next morning, I could not prepare him for the tiny body he would see unmoving in the bed. Her eyes and mouth partly open, her breathing labored. We never left her alone, her music played softly in the background, we spoke to her, sang, read, held her hand. She opened her eyes once and tried to speak, we told her again how much we loved her. I said blink if you understand, she did and I replied I know you are trying to say you love us too. She blinked again and then closed her eyes. We knew she could hear us, that is the last sense that remains. We had a soft light at night brought from home and the music played always in the background. We took turns staying the first few nights. I came in one morning to see my brother lying next to her on the bed cuddling her with his eyes closed. We embraced her and her journey with love.
We would sit together or either side of her and sing, holding her hands. Her last full day, my Dad's birthday, my brother left to rest for awhile and I laid in bed with her, cuddling her and singing. The nurses would position her over in the bed so there was room for us. They remarked on the loving energy in the room, it comforted us all. We would comb her hair, sponge her mouth, lip balm and cream for her hands, face and arms. Her skin became more translucent and her legs cold. We cried much but loved more and were witness to another one of life's miracles, the earthly body fading away to allow the flight of the spirit. We spent time loving her and each other through those final few days.
As happens so often my Mom passed with a quiet last breath when I had left after twenty four hours for a little sleep, my brother had stepped out for food for a few minutes. Her dear friend and care giver was siting reading to her from the bible. The chaplain had come in and said a prayer. She left in those few moments peacefully on March 30th, 2009 at age 79, thirty years after my Dad died. They were so very happy and now once more are together. That is the legacy of love we are left.
As a family we became even closer, our respect for each other has only grown as we were witness to all of us being our best selves, to embracing the final days with her and celebrating her life with the most loving journey possible. She gave us life, we gave her our loving hearts in gratitude. Life is simply a love story.
Death's journey begins several months before, my mother began to withdraw from people even more. Her interest in people, activities, pets decreased. She wanted to just be quiet and rest. She gave away some of her best things, jewelry etc to her grand daughters. A couple weeks before her death she seemed to really improve, enjoying many things, the spurt of energy often seen just before someone dies. There is an agitation in the last week or so, hallucinations which occur as the spirit prepares to leave this world. My Mom wanted to get up, kept pulling off the blankets, hallucinating not easy to see but part of the process. A wet cough occurs a few days before as moisture collects on the lungs. The body does not need any more nourishment and begins to shut down, the ability to swallow goes. Breathing can become more labored at this point but eases and becomes slower and slower. You find yourself counting in between breaths waiting for the next one. Everyone is different and their journey their own but much of my mother's followed what I had read. It was a final week and it was a lifetime of learning and loving. Debra...Life truly is a love story.
Evocative and moving.
Posted by: michelle | May 04, 2009 at 12:10 PM