My mom…
My mom is on hospice care. It may be weeks or months before she passes, but the reality is that her time with us is limited.
I thought I would be prepared for this. There have been SO many signs. Her dementia has worsened, she lost the ability to walk, her cancer resurfaced, and the ability to take care of herself became non-existent earlier this year. I told Matt over the summer (very matter of factly) that she had six months. She even had a conversation with me one day in August where she was a clear as could be, saying “I don’t have much time left, but I love you and my family very much.” She knew what was coming. Maybe that was the reason she got in the car and drove to Mansfield in July…she needed one last hurrah:)
However, I wasn’t prepared. I wasn’t prepared for the September fall day where she was taken by ambulance to the emergency room - not even thinking that would be the last time she’d be in her home. I wasn’t prepared to be the only one allowed in the hospital when the doctors shared that her cancer returned…this time in her brain. I wasn’t prepared for her to transfer to skilled care, with hopes that the radiation might work. I wasn't prepared to only see her through the window. I wasn’t prepared for her to not get better.
I’ve dealt with my in-laws passing, so many grandparents, heck even my beloved Labrador, Chloe…all these experiences have taken me through the grieving journey, and I’ve come out on the other side ok. Still standing. Still here.
Yet, I am petrified that I am about to lose my mom. Those who know me…or have read previous blogs know that my relationship with my mom has had its struggles. She’s struggled her entire life with mental illness that has had a lasting impact. Those challenges have put a constant burden on our relationship and our mother-daughter experiences. However, my optimistic mindset has always tried to see past the bad and focus on the good that she has brought to my life. Push the challenges aside, and there is so much good she’s leaving on my heart and memories.
I am grateful she still recognizes my voice, and can say my name. I am grateful she’s content. I am grateful she’s safe. I am grateful she’s not in pain. I am grateful we’ve been given time since September to be with her (via window and phone) and have closure. I am grateful our family has come together to support her and her and my step-dad as best as we can.
However, going through hospice journey with my mother-in-law. I know what’s coming. Part of me just wishes it was done. While the other part of me doesn’t want to let go…because once it’s done…well, it’s done. Life is hard.
How I will cope, grieve, whatever you want to call it, this time it’s completely new territory. It’s like an ocean. At moments the waves are calm and I am totally fine. Work, photography, anything to stay busy are all very welcomed distractions. Other moments when it’s still and quiet, the waves are high and rough...and I crumble. I know this is completely normal…and ok. I know she would tell me she’s just fine, that she loves me, and to live my life. I would say the same to my children.
And to all those that can completely relate, or will someday be in these gigantic shoes. “The person you lost would never, ever want you to suffer over their absence. If anything, they’d want you to experience the bittersweet memories of your time together. They’d want you to be happy, they’d want you to laugh again, they’d want you to live the fullest richest life you can.” ~Rachel Hollis.
My grandpap always said it best. “Behind the clouds, the sun is still shining.” And while this is a gigantic stratocumulus cloud on my life right now, this too shall pass.
Xoxoxo,
Jen
