The End Of An Era

My mother passed away a week and a half ago. It was unexpected. Two weeks ago, I spent the morning with her at her assisted living place. I took her outdoors in the courtyard, and we sat in the sun and talked. I showed her the most recent photos of all of her great-grandchildren. The physical therapist came and had her using her walker and doing exercises (she was reliant on a wheelchair for the past two years). Before I left, I did my usual caregiver duties of cleaning her glasses, trimming her nails and attending to her hair. And then we said goodbye.

Three days later, I was called at 5:45 a.m. that she was found unresponsive in her room and taken to the ER. My oldest daughter lives 10 minutes from the hospital and arrived first. My husband and I arrived at 6:45 a.m. I was picturing unresponsive to mean that she'd look like she was sleeping, so I was shocked when I saw her. Her head was tilted to one side and her mouth was wide open. If you're familiar with the term, 'death rattle,' you will understand how alarming it was to see her in that condition. The ER doctor thought mom may have had a stroke, but since we had a DNR Comfort Care Only in place, there was no reason to do a CT scan or any other testing. Mom had been ready to go since she fell in July 2023 and had to move into assisted living. Between back pain and dementia, her quality of life was severely lacking.

My brother arrived a little later and stayed a few hours. We didn't know if she had hours or days (my father lived 11 days under hospice care without food or water) so we had no idea how long she would continue in this state. She was on oxygen and morphine, but that was it. My daughter left to go attend to her family. By 1 p.m., we were finally able to secure a regular room and we went with her as she was transported to a different area of the hospital. The staff was amazing. They brought us a beverage and snack cart, essential oils if we wanted to massage any into her skin (her favorite scent was lavender, so I rubbed some under her ears), and an Alexa device to play music. 

Shortly after that, my husband left to get something to eat and stopped by my daughter's to see the grandkids. I was able to spend time with mom alone, saying my goodbyes. While holding her hand, I think she may have squeezed my fingers, but I'm not really certain. A few times when I was right by her ear and saying, "Mom," she opened her eyes, but they were not focused. When I gave her water with the sponge, she did seem to be sucking on it. Those were the only interactions we had. I continued to rub her forehead, smooth her hair, and hold her hand.

My husband came back around 2:30 as did my oldest daughter. In case you were wondering, Middle Child was here at home, deciding that she would rather remember grandma alive, which is understandable. My son moved out-of-state a few months ago, so he couldn't be with us. At 4 p.m., my daughter was ready to say her goodbyes and my husband insisted that I follow her back to her house and take a breather. At 4:10, I said goodbye to mom and drove the 10 minutes to my daughter's house.

I'm sure many of you can guess what happened. Often, a loved one waits for you to leave. I had no sooner greeted my grandchildren when my husband texted my daughter and said I should go back to the hospital. I got back there at 4:35 and she was gone. My husband was sobbing hysterically at the door, apologizing. He felt so bad that he had suggested that I leave. And I think the trauma of watching someone take their last breath added to his distress. I was not upset with him at all. I truly believe she waited for me to leave. When we were alone, I had told her it was okay to go and that I knew she wanted to see Dad and that Jesus was waiting for her. 

We spent an hour in the room with her and when we were ready, a doctor came in to do a final check of her (lack of) vitals. After a whirlwind week of making phone calls and burial arrangements, we had a service for her at the funeral home last Friday. It was just immediate family and my mother's remaining brother and sister-in-law. Mom was number 7 of 8 children. We each read scripture (my son was there via Facetime), said the Lord's Prayer and sang Amazing Grace. Then, we shared some special memories of Mom.

Mom with Baby Bijoux

My wedding day. Mom had Dad buried in his wedding suit (yes, she really did keep everything). When trying to determine what to bury her in, I had her mother of the bride dress in an upstairs closet and chose that. Dad's favorite color was blue, so it seemed fitting. Mom's favorite color was pink, so the florist designed a beautiful spray of pink flowers for her casket. She was buried with my father at the veteran's national cemetery, which is a beautiful place. My in-laws are also buried there. My husband keeps telling everyone that it was our last parent. It is a hard thing to wrap our heads around.

Mom loved butterflies. This is a stained glass one that I had sitting in her window in her room.

Two days after her funeral, I finally had some free time to go walk around our yard and I saw my first Monarch of the season.

Then I saw this Swallowtail.

On a different butterfly bush, I spotted this little guy, all in the span of 5 minutes.

Not technically a butterfly, but this huge moth sat on our pathway for close to 30 minutes while I was out there. I think Mom is telling me that she is just fine.

I've missed all of you and will be around to visit your blogs over the course of the next week. See you soon!