It has been 30 days since my mom died. Not four weeks and some change. Not a month. Those shorten the time that she's been gone. I've lived 30 days since she took her last breath. I regret that I wasn't at her side when she took her last breath yet I feel so fully blessed that I savored over 51 years by her side while she lived and breathed.
Grief is a strange creature. During her last weeks and the two weeks following her passing, grief was sudden and all encompassing. It showed up at unexpected times and demanded to be acknowledged. Before I could stop myself, I was sobbing for my impending loss, then for my real loss. Although it wasn't pretty and hit at times I was busy trying to do something else, I usually welcomed the grief to some degree. It was a time when I could authentically and fully experience love for my mother, grief that she was gone, and nostalgia for when I was with her. She was a good mom. She was brave, hard-working, loving, intelligent, protective, generous, faithful, and enduring. She loved me.
I always felt safe when I was with my mom. When I felt off-kilter, I would go "home." I went to her house to feel centered, loved, accepted. It wasn't the house I grew up in and, I realize now, it wasn't that it was home. My mom was my home. She was my safe place. I felt buffered, insulated, safe, and loved.
My dad is still there and he provides a presence of solidity. It's still a safe place but I feel more exposed now emotionally. My mom nurtured my spirit and bandaged my feelings. She encouraged me to talk to her. She expressed indignation and flashes of anger when she believed I had been mistreated. She would swear at my persecutors with me. She let me be completely me without judgment and always took my side - unless it was against my sister. She tried to stay neutral then. I miss having her there for me. I miss being there for her.
My mom fought breast cancer for 15 years. She did everything she could to prolong her time on earth. We were never given false hope. Her doctor candidly told her how it would end. The cancer was not curable. But there was treatment and she took it. She took all of the loathesome treatments that killed some cells and had horrible side affects. She did it until she ran out of options. Then she gracefully accepted she'd done all she could do and let the inevitable come.
When I was 36 I went with my parents and older sister to the oncologist to listen to the findings. The oncologist is an oxymoron in and of herself. She told us that my mom had stage 4 breast cancer. It was not curable but she would treat it. She then systematically quashed every little ray of hope we chose to find. She pragmatically explained the treatment and in answer to our question told us that in her experience, patients with my mom's level of cancer usually live between 12-18 months.
Thinking back on that time exhausts me. It was a different kind of grief for reasons I don't understand. I came home, gathered Samantha and Jacob from the neighbor and cried. Sharon Kunz dropped by for reasons unknown and taught me that Christ didn't only take on our sins but also our sorrows. He knows my pain. I did not know that.
I drove to work and cried all the way. I called Joey on my cell. We cried and cried. I told her that I kept praying that she won't die and that she will be healed and the answer I get is so clear but it can't be right. It will be okay. Joey had the exact impression I had but added, "How can it be okay without our mom?"
I'm now 51 years old. I am sobbing as I remember that horrible day. I have 15 years of experience on top of my previous 36 when we knew our mother would die of metastatic breast cancer. I am profoundly grateful for those 15 years but I still don't know how it's going to be okay.
What I do know is that my mom lived to see the births of all of her grandchildren; 4 more grandsons and a granddaughter. She saw her 50th wedding anniversary plus 8 more. She attended every single graduation including preschool graduations up until a few years ago. She attended every high school and college graduation. 8 high school graduations (only one for the twins) and two college graduations - the most recent in May for Kelsey. She sent out five missionaries from her grandchildren and greeted three when they came home. She missed Jordan's by 27 days. Or maybe not. Perhaps she was there.
But those are the big celebrations. There were daily treasures, too. She told me that she treasured the days when she got to take Jacob to kindergarten. She would have him for about an hour before she drove him to school, park, and he'd play on the playground while she watched. When the bell would ring, Jacob would always run over to her and give her a hug and tell her goodbye. She loved and loves her children and grandchildren.
My mom's last heroic act was to make sure her son, Mike, knew that she loved him. He's made a lot of unconventional choices and many of them don't align with what she taught yet she accepted him and loved him completely. We girls knew it. We knew how much it hurt my mom to see him make weird choices. We knew how she agonized over it and blamed herself. We tried to reaffirm free agency. In the end, the very end before she went to sleep to never awaken, she let Mike know that she loved him and accepted him. The next morning, after she died, Mike arrived, settled in then sobbed. "She was the only one that accepted me." She did and she does. He realizes it. It is a great accomplishment. Not only that, there was a clear indicator that as she left her body, she went first to Ellie, Mike's newborn daughter. Ellie's reaction so alarmed Pang, Mike's wife, that she called Mike. Ellie was moving in such a way that had her so excited that it scared Pang. She looked at the clock as she called Mike. It was 8:15. Mama died at 8:15.
The cancer was beat back into submission many times over the years but it refused to leave my mother's body. She had aggressive chemotherapy first where angels attended her through this time. She then had the left breast removed. It was at this time I started feeling a little bit like she might live for awhile. She then had 4 more treatments of chemo and then a scan. The cancer was either in hiding or stable. She had three years of peace before it was caught growing again. This repeated itself many times until there was no liminal state. The past two years were particularly miserable for her, I think. She tried every treatment available that wouldn't kill her (although she came close a few times). She gave us the greatest gift of all which was more time as our mother. More time to buffer us from the storms of life. Of course, as the disease progressed there was more physical caring for her by us.
The beginning of the end happened at Kelsey's graduation from Utah State. Unbeknownst to us, the cancer had spread into the bones of my mom's legs. 15 years with this monster inside her, it had to consume her in the unlikely places. Breast cancer rarely metastasizes in legs. But, again, 15 years. She stepped on her left foot and heard a crack while feeling a shift. She continued walking on it for ten more days until she collapsed on the floor at home. Jene called me at work and urgently told me to go over and help. She had x-rays and was referred to an amazing oncology surgeon who announced my mom had cracked her tibia. She brought home the x ray and Lindsay, her oldest granddaughter, a nurse, looked at it and knew the surgeon only told my mom what she needed to know.
The tibia was broken and needed help being repaired. She underwent a 5 hour surgery where Jody (the surgeon) cleaned out the bone marrow, scraped all the cancer cells she could, set the bone, attached some screws and titanium plating, and closed her up. New x-rays showed all the new hardware but Lindsay still saw the dark spots all over my mom's bones. The cancer was all over her tibia and fibula.
After 5 weeks in a rehabilitation center and against medical advice, my mom hightailed it home. With home/hospital coming, Jene, Suzy, and I became involved in her care. She continued getting stronger and was fairly fluent with a walker but we were growing weary. We still felt like we needed to supervise and help her get up in the morning, to the bathroom, shower, and go to bed. Then one day she dropped something on the kitchen floor while using her walker. She reached down to get it and continued with gravity. She cracked her hip.
At this point in the narrative, we were really struggling to care for her and our own families. We sat on a couple of occasions and had some serious conversations about assisted living or skilled nursing facilities. We sat with the RN from Home/Health and Mom told him she was finished doing physical therapy and occupational therapy. Yes, she could perform for the nice therapists but she couldn't do it, anymore. She didn't have the strength. He suggested we consider hospice then referred us to Dr. Mower.
I have a couple of recordings on my phone of that appointment. I wanted to make sure my sisters heard everything but couldn't find the audio recording button so video recorded it, instead. I treasure those recordings even though I can't watch them yet. Dr. Mower sat at my mom's level and spoke with her, getting her input, and letting her know that she has fought a good fight and it's okay to accept that she has an incurable disease and let it take its course. She's tired. Her bones are breaking apart. She's done all she can do. How about considering some comfort now. It was beautiful, spiritual experience as peace descended on my mom and she agreed. She was tired. She'd done all she could do. It was time to go.
We continued caring for her. We had a schedule and we wore ourselves weary, ignoring our husbands and homes. We encouraged Joey to come and take her turn from Arizona. My mom could still stand but she couldn't walk. We got her up, dressed, showered, bathroomed, to bed, etc. We hired a lady but discovered she was not good for my mom. She quit one day. I ordered a wheelchair ramp on my dad's credit card from Amazon. We were able to take her outside to see the eclipse, and on walks, or outside to see her beloved fruit trees and rose bushes. Jene even enlisted her friend, Natalie, to help her take my mom to Costco one day.
Suzy was still teaching and having some serious endocrine issues. She was suffering with her own health problems, teaching all day, then taking care of Mom. She had two doctors tell her that her thyroid was so out of whack, she could choose to take an extended health leave from work or suffer a stroke and possibly die. She's 53 and we needed her. She sent a doctor's order to her principal and told her she would be evaluated in a couple of weeks. A couple of days later while taking Mom to the bathroom, Kelsey heard a loud crack from her leg. They both knew something else was broken. It shifted the next day and swelled up. The following day was Saturday and I found I had two texts on my phone. One was from my dad that simply said, "SOS." The other was a video of my mom getting loaded into an ambulance.
My mom's femur had cracked, shifted, and finally, on that Saturday morning, she slipped out of bed and the break was complete and she suffered a compound fracture. The CNA that came to get her up and showered that day found her on the floor, conscious but probably going into shock. In fact, conversations with her in the following days confirmed that she had disassociated in order to make it through that experience. She saw the carnage (although there wasn't a lot of blood) and throught, "That's so awful. That can't possibly be my leg." So she decided it wasn't. Once at the hospital, she was confused and kept asking why she was there. If anyone told her about her injury, she simply said, "That's awful! So why am I here?" She wasn't confused and cognitively impaired, she was in a nice, healthy denial in order to survive the next few days.
The surgeon on call happened to be one Scott and my dad have used and we trust him completely. He made the judgment call to do a quick patch so she wouldn't be under anesthesia for long. He cleaned up the sharp parts, attached an ACL brace, and shifted everything back into alignment while sewing her back up.
Something else shifted at that time besides her bones. Everything changed. Suzy later told me that she felt angels surrounding my mom in her room. They were protecting her and calming her. They were calming Suzy. Caring for my mom changed in that moment to a sacred privilege. I remember staying late on Saturday night, going home because my dad told me I had to, then waking up at 4:45 a.m. and slipping out of the house to make sure I was by her side when she woke up. I just wanted to be there for her like she was always there for me. I didn't want her to be afraid or confused. I wanted to be the familiar anchor when she opened her eyes.
The next 11 days and nights were filled with facing my greatest childhood fear. I was going to lose my mom. We were telling each other goodbye every night just in case but this time it was more real.
Before the hospital bed arrived while she was hospitalized, I would put her to bed some nights and curl up next to her. We would talk. She told me and my sisters how proud of us she was. She was so grateful. She loved all of her children and all of her grandchildren. It was true. I felt it. I wanted to stay curled up next to her all night like I did when I had a nightmare as a child. My worst nightmares had to do with my mom dying. I would awaken and be terrified of the monsters in the dark. Sometimes I would finally call out in terror. Other times, I would run and climb in bed with my parents. I was safe in that coccoon. I wanted to still be in that coccoon. Of course, as I curled up beside her and rubbed her head and shoulders I knew that I had become the caretaker and she had become the dependent. But I still needed her. She knew we had a schedule and I kept showing up so she asked why I kept getting the night schedule. I told her the truth. I didn't. I was just coming over to spend time with her. Even before she was bed bound, I would go over just to play a few rounds of Yahtzee with her (she played to win and accused me of cheating), or pop in to see if I could take her to the bathroom even though she wore briefs. She was always delighted to see me and forgiving of my faux pas like bumping her wheelchair into furniture or learning how to use the wheelchair ramp.
The medications increased after that last bone break. She needed more morphine, more Ativan, and now some Haldol to stop the jerking legs. I assume the cancer had sneaked into her nerves. Between sleeping and changing her, we still talked. It was getting more difficult for her to talk but she still expressed her love and gratitude for us. I was so grateful for her grace while we cared for her. The last time I changed her was with Kelsey and we forgot to give her morphine half hour before. Her bone had shifted again and the pain was excruciating even though she only groaned subconsciously but consciously assured us it was okay.
I cried and prayed for what scared me so much. I prayed she would be out of her pain and misery soon. Please let her die at home. Please let me know that she got there. Please.
My one regret was not going over the day before she died. I had my reasons and it was because I was uncomfortable with people taking pictures of her in the state she was in. I couldn't bear it again so I decided to go as soon as I got off work at noon on Wednesday. Joey called me at 8:09 a.m. I arrived at 8:16. I missed her last breath. I regret that although I couldn't have done anything different. I was blessed with a beautiful feeling of gratitude as I was driving from work to my parents' house. I thought it was just me but I don't think it was. In retrospect, I realize it was her gift to me.
We stayed with her body for a long time. Heavenly Father heard and answered my prayers. She died at home. I now realize that she let me know that she got there as soon as she got there. I was alone in the van. And she came to me. There was a sacred peace that lingered in that room. Scott came. He went and got the boys from school. They all felt the sacred peace. Jaxon felt it so strongly, he had to leave the room and talk it out with Scott. Scott told me he felt her spirit as he was driving over to the house.
There were so many tender mercies along the way. Too many to name but to name but a few, my mom let me know, just after she decided on hospice, that although she didn't want to go just yet, she sensed joy emanating from the other side. They were expecting her.
Joey and Jene felt anticipation of a joyful event the day before she passed. They both had to stop themselves and question how they could be feeling joy while their mother was dying. Because there were many others that were ecstatic to have her back.
Suzy's health issues are resolving but I'm grateful that she had them when she did so she could spend time with my mom and help her stay at home.
Kelsey was heartbroken when she couldn't get a job but she was finally offered a job that started in October. She was an amazing help during this time and she didn't even know it. She just liked hanging out with Grandma.
Joey came from Arizona Monday. My mom died on Wednesday. So she was here.
Jene had stayed overnight because Suzy was worried about my mom's breathing. Then Suzy went home and went to sleep. That one cracks me up.
I was at work, less than one mile from my parents' house. I got there as fast as I could. There were no buses blocking my van which is a miracle since it was right before school started.
I told my mom in the summer that I had been trying to do genealogy but couldn't find her great grandmother's parents. Who were they? I kept getting hung up on Grandma Jane Harmon. Two days after my mom died, familysearch.org sent Joey and email that indicated that a relative from Jane Harmon's side needed her work done. When Joey got on to look at it, there was loads of genealogy linked up that hadn't been before. Mama has been busy.
Jene and I went to the temple to do some ancestors. I suddenly decided I needed to do Aunt Mareta, my mom's sister and best friend. I have never been so excited to be at the temple. I could hear Aunt Mareta talking to my mom about the "girls" going to the temple for her. I might have skipped through the veil and into the Celestial Room. Jene had a similar experience. We couldn't stop smiling.
There is so much more to say but I need to go to bed. I also knew I needed to write some of these experiences and thoughts down before they fade. It also helped me to write and realize that Mama DID come to me and told me she had arrived. She's there. She's busy. She's with people she loves. She's grateful. She loves us.
And it will be okay.
Grief is a strange creature. During her last weeks and the two weeks following her passing, grief was sudden and all encompassing. It showed up at unexpected times and demanded to be acknowledged. Before I could stop myself, I was sobbing for my impending loss, then for my real loss. Although it wasn't pretty and hit at times I was busy trying to do something else, I usually welcomed the grief to some degree. It was a time when I could authentically and fully experience love for my mother, grief that she was gone, and nostalgia for when I was with her. She was a good mom. She was brave, hard-working, loving, intelligent, protective, generous, faithful, and enduring. She loved me.
I always felt safe when I was with my mom. When I felt off-kilter, I would go "home." I went to her house to feel centered, loved, accepted. It wasn't the house I grew up in and, I realize now, it wasn't that it was home. My mom was my home. She was my safe place. I felt buffered, insulated, safe, and loved.
My dad is still there and he provides a presence of solidity. It's still a safe place but I feel more exposed now emotionally. My mom nurtured my spirit and bandaged my feelings. She encouraged me to talk to her. She expressed indignation and flashes of anger when she believed I had been mistreated. She would swear at my persecutors with me. She let me be completely me without judgment and always took my side - unless it was against my sister. She tried to stay neutral then. I miss having her there for me. I miss being there for her.
My mom fought breast cancer for 15 years. She did everything she could to prolong her time on earth. We were never given false hope. Her doctor candidly told her how it would end. The cancer was not curable. But there was treatment and she took it. She took all of the loathesome treatments that killed some cells and had horrible side affects. She did it until she ran out of options. Then she gracefully accepted she'd done all she could do and let the inevitable come.
When I was 36 I went with my parents and older sister to the oncologist to listen to the findings. The oncologist is an oxymoron in and of herself. She told us that my mom had stage 4 breast cancer. It was not curable but she would treat it. She then systematically quashed every little ray of hope we chose to find. She pragmatically explained the treatment and in answer to our question told us that in her experience, patients with my mom's level of cancer usually live between 12-18 months.
Thinking back on that time exhausts me. It was a different kind of grief for reasons I don't understand. I came home, gathered Samantha and Jacob from the neighbor and cried. Sharon Kunz dropped by for reasons unknown and taught me that Christ didn't only take on our sins but also our sorrows. He knows my pain. I did not know that.
I drove to work and cried all the way. I called Joey on my cell. We cried and cried. I told her that I kept praying that she won't die and that she will be healed and the answer I get is so clear but it can't be right. It will be okay. Joey had the exact impression I had but added, "How can it be okay without our mom?"
I'm now 51 years old. I am sobbing as I remember that horrible day. I have 15 years of experience on top of my previous 36 when we knew our mother would die of metastatic breast cancer. I am profoundly grateful for those 15 years but I still don't know how it's going to be okay.
What I do know is that my mom lived to see the births of all of her grandchildren; 4 more grandsons and a granddaughter. She saw her 50th wedding anniversary plus 8 more. She attended every single graduation including preschool graduations up until a few years ago. She attended every high school and college graduation. 8 high school graduations (only one for the twins) and two college graduations - the most recent in May for Kelsey. She sent out five missionaries from her grandchildren and greeted three when they came home. She missed Jordan's by 27 days. Or maybe not. Perhaps she was there.
But those are the big celebrations. There were daily treasures, too. She told me that she treasured the days when she got to take Jacob to kindergarten. She would have him for about an hour before she drove him to school, park, and he'd play on the playground while she watched. When the bell would ring, Jacob would always run over to her and give her a hug and tell her goodbye. She loved and loves her children and grandchildren.
My mom's last heroic act was to make sure her son, Mike, knew that she loved him. He's made a lot of unconventional choices and many of them don't align with what she taught yet she accepted him and loved him completely. We girls knew it. We knew how much it hurt my mom to see him make weird choices. We knew how she agonized over it and blamed herself. We tried to reaffirm free agency. In the end, the very end before she went to sleep to never awaken, she let Mike know that she loved him and accepted him. The next morning, after she died, Mike arrived, settled in then sobbed. "She was the only one that accepted me." She did and she does. He realizes it. It is a great accomplishment. Not only that, there was a clear indicator that as she left her body, she went first to Ellie, Mike's newborn daughter. Ellie's reaction so alarmed Pang, Mike's wife, that she called Mike. Ellie was moving in such a way that had her so excited that it scared Pang. She looked at the clock as she called Mike. It was 8:15. Mama died at 8:15.
The cancer was beat back into submission many times over the years but it refused to leave my mother's body. She had aggressive chemotherapy first where angels attended her through this time. She then had the left breast removed. It was at this time I started feeling a little bit like she might live for awhile. She then had 4 more treatments of chemo and then a scan. The cancer was either in hiding or stable. She had three years of peace before it was caught growing again. This repeated itself many times until there was no liminal state. The past two years were particularly miserable for her, I think. She tried every treatment available that wouldn't kill her (although she came close a few times). She gave us the greatest gift of all which was more time as our mother. More time to buffer us from the storms of life. Of course, as the disease progressed there was more physical caring for her by us.
The beginning of the end happened at Kelsey's graduation from Utah State. Unbeknownst to us, the cancer had spread into the bones of my mom's legs. 15 years with this monster inside her, it had to consume her in the unlikely places. Breast cancer rarely metastasizes in legs. But, again, 15 years. She stepped on her left foot and heard a crack while feeling a shift. She continued walking on it for ten more days until she collapsed on the floor at home. Jene called me at work and urgently told me to go over and help. She had x-rays and was referred to an amazing oncology surgeon who announced my mom had cracked her tibia. She brought home the x ray and Lindsay, her oldest granddaughter, a nurse, looked at it and knew the surgeon only told my mom what she needed to know.
The tibia was broken and needed help being repaired. She underwent a 5 hour surgery where Jody (the surgeon) cleaned out the bone marrow, scraped all the cancer cells she could, set the bone, attached some screws and titanium plating, and closed her up. New x-rays showed all the new hardware but Lindsay still saw the dark spots all over my mom's bones. The cancer was all over her tibia and fibula.
After 5 weeks in a rehabilitation center and against medical advice, my mom hightailed it home. With home/hospital coming, Jene, Suzy, and I became involved in her care. She continued getting stronger and was fairly fluent with a walker but we were growing weary. We still felt like we needed to supervise and help her get up in the morning, to the bathroom, shower, and go to bed. Then one day she dropped something on the kitchen floor while using her walker. She reached down to get it and continued with gravity. She cracked her hip.
At this point in the narrative, we were really struggling to care for her and our own families. We sat on a couple of occasions and had some serious conversations about assisted living or skilled nursing facilities. We sat with the RN from Home/Health and Mom told him she was finished doing physical therapy and occupational therapy. Yes, she could perform for the nice therapists but she couldn't do it, anymore. She didn't have the strength. He suggested we consider hospice then referred us to Dr. Mower.
I have a couple of recordings on my phone of that appointment. I wanted to make sure my sisters heard everything but couldn't find the audio recording button so video recorded it, instead. I treasure those recordings even though I can't watch them yet. Dr. Mower sat at my mom's level and spoke with her, getting her input, and letting her know that she has fought a good fight and it's okay to accept that she has an incurable disease and let it take its course. She's tired. Her bones are breaking apart. She's done all she can do. How about considering some comfort now. It was beautiful, spiritual experience as peace descended on my mom and she agreed. She was tired. She'd done all she could do. It was time to go.
We continued caring for her. We had a schedule and we wore ourselves weary, ignoring our husbands and homes. We encouraged Joey to come and take her turn from Arizona. My mom could still stand but she couldn't walk. We got her up, dressed, showered, bathroomed, to bed, etc. We hired a lady but discovered she was not good for my mom. She quit one day. I ordered a wheelchair ramp on my dad's credit card from Amazon. We were able to take her outside to see the eclipse, and on walks, or outside to see her beloved fruit trees and rose bushes. Jene even enlisted her friend, Natalie, to help her take my mom to Costco one day.
Suzy was still teaching and having some serious endocrine issues. She was suffering with her own health problems, teaching all day, then taking care of Mom. She had two doctors tell her that her thyroid was so out of whack, she could choose to take an extended health leave from work or suffer a stroke and possibly die. She's 53 and we needed her. She sent a doctor's order to her principal and told her she would be evaluated in a couple of weeks. A couple of days later while taking Mom to the bathroom, Kelsey heard a loud crack from her leg. They both knew something else was broken. It shifted the next day and swelled up. The following day was Saturday and I found I had two texts on my phone. One was from my dad that simply said, "SOS." The other was a video of my mom getting loaded into an ambulance.
My mom's femur had cracked, shifted, and finally, on that Saturday morning, she slipped out of bed and the break was complete and she suffered a compound fracture. The CNA that came to get her up and showered that day found her on the floor, conscious but probably going into shock. In fact, conversations with her in the following days confirmed that she had disassociated in order to make it through that experience. She saw the carnage (although there wasn't a lot of blood) and throught, "That's so awful. That can't possibly be my leg." So she decided it wasn't. Once at the hospital, she was confused and kept asking why she was there. If anyone told her about her injury, she simply said, "That's awful! So why am I here?" She wasn't confused and cognitively impaired, she was in a nice, healthy denial in order to survive the next few days.
The surgeon on call happened to be one Scott and my dad have used and we trust him completely. He made the judgment call to do a quick patch so she wouldn't be under anesthesia for long. He cleaned up the sharp parts, attached an ACL brace, and shifted everything back into alignment while sewing her back up.
Something else shifted at that time besides her bones. Everything changed. Suzy later told me that she felt angels surrounding my mom in her room. They were protecting her and calming her. They were calming Suzy. Caring for my mom changed in that moment to a sacred privilege. I remember staying late on Saturday night, going home because my dad told me I had to, then waking up at 4:45 a.m. and slipping out of the house to make sure I was by her side when she woke up. I just wanted to be there for her like she was always there for me. I didn't want her to be afraid or confused. I wanted to be the familiar anchor when she opened her eyes.
The next 11 days and nights were filled with facing my greatest childhood fear. I was going to lose my mom. We were telling each other goodbye every night just in case but this time it was more real.
Before the hospital bed arrived while she was hospitalized, I would put her to bed some nights and curl up next to her. We would talk. She told me and my sisters how proud of us she was. She was so grateful. She loved all of her children and all of her grandchildren. It was true. I felt it. I wanted to stay curled up next to her all night like I did when I had a nightmare as a child. My worst nightmares had to do with my mom dying. I would awaken and be terrified of the monsters in the dark. Sometimes I would finally call out in terror. Other times, I would run and climb in bed with my parents. I was safe in that coccoon. I wanted to still be in that coccoon. Of course, as I curled up beside her and rubbed her head and shoulders I knew that I had become the caretaker and she had become the dependent. But I still needed her. She knew we had a schedule and I kept showing up so she asked why I kept getting the night schedule. I told her the truth. I didn't. I was just coming over to spend time with her. Even before she was bed bound, I would go over just to play a few rounds of Yahtzee with her (she played to win and accused me of cheating), or pop in to see if I could take her to the bathroom even though she wore briefs. She was always delighted to see me and forgiving of my faux pas like bumping her wheelchair into furniture or learning how to use the wheelchair ramp.
The medications increased after that last bone break. She needed more morphine, more Ativan, and now some Haldol to stop the jerking legs. I assume the cancer had sneaked into her nerves. Between sleeping and changing her, we still talked. It was getting more difficult for her to talk but she still expressed her love and gratitude for us. I was so grateful for her grace while we cared for her. The last time I changed her was with Kelsey and we forgot to give her morphine half hour before. Her bone had shifted again and the pain was excruciating even though she only groaned subconsciously but consciously assured us it was okay.
I cried and prayed for what scared me so much. I prayed she would be out of her pain and misery soon. Please let her die at home. Please let me know that she got there. Please.
My one regret was not going over the day before she died. I had my reasons and it was because I was uncomfortable with people taking pictures of her in the state she was in. I couldn't bear it again so I decided to go as soon as I got off work at noon on Wednesday. Joey called me at 8:09 a.m. I arrived at 8:16. I missed her last breath. I regret that although I couldn't have done anything different. I was blessed with a beautiful feeling of gratitude as I was driving from work to my parents' house. I thought it was just me but I don't think it was. In retrospect, I realize it was her gift to me.
We stayed with her body for a long time. Heavenly Father heard and answered my prayers. She died at home. I now realize that she let me know that she got there as soon as she got there. I was alone in the van. And she came to me. There was a sacred peace that lingered in that room. Scott came. He went and got the boys from school. They all felt the sacred peace. Jaxon felt it so strongly, he had to leave the room and talk it out with Scott. Scott told me he felt her spirit as he was driving over to the house.
There were so many tender mercies along the way. Too many to name but to name but a few, my mom let me know, just after she decided on hospice, that although she didn't want to go just yet, she sensed joy emanating from the other side. They were expecting her.
Joey and Jene felt anticipation of a joyful event the day before she passed. They both had to stop themselves and question how they could be feeling joy while their mother was dying. Because there were many others that were ecstatic to have her back.
Suzy's health issues are resolving but I'm grateful that she had them when she did so she could spend time with my mom and help her stay at home.
Kelsey was heartbroken when she couldn't get a job but she was finally offered a job that started in October. She was an amazing help during this time and she didn't even know it. She just liked hanging out with Grandma.
Joey came from Arizona Monday. My mom died on Wednesday. So she was here.
Jene had stayed overnight because Suzy was worried about my mom's breathing. Then Suzy went home and went to sleep. That one cracks me up.
I was at work, less than one mile from my parents' house. I got there as fast as I could. There were no buses blocking my van which is a miracle since it was right before school started.
I told my mom in the summer that I had been trying to do genealogy but couldn't find her great grandmother's parents. Who were they? I kept getting hung up on Grandma Jane Harmon. Two days after my mom died, familysearch.org sent Joey and email that indicated that a relative from Jane Harmon's side needed her work done. When Joey got on to look at it, there was loads of genealogy linked up that hadn't been before. Mama has been busy.
Jene and I went to the temple to do some ancestors. I suddenly decided I needed to do Aunt Mareta, my mom's sister and best friend. I have never been so excited to be at the temple. I could hear Aunt Mareta talking to my mom about the "girls" going to the temple for her. I might have skipped through the veil and into the Celestial Room. Jene had a similar experience. We couldn't stop smiling.
There is so much more to say but I need to go to bed. I also knew I needed to write some of these experiences and thoughts down before they fade. It also helped me to write and realize that Mama DID come to me and told me she had arrived. She's there. She's busy. She's with people she loves. She's grateful. She loves us.
And it will be okay.
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