This is the sixth day in a row that Mom has been noticeably weakening. Each day finds her sleeping longer, napping more, and doing less. I keep waiting for the upswing, and have to remind myself that there might not be one. In the past, Mom has responded to help and good food by getting stronger and regaining her independence. That doesn't seem to be the case this time around. I know things could change. We could wake up tomorrow and Mom could be mopping the kitchen and telling us to pack our bags. But it sure doesn't look that way.
And so I have to remind myself that I am not here to help Mom get better. I am here to help Mom go Home.
Today Mom learned of a grandmother of friends in our church family who, although seeming to recover from sepsis, passed away Friday morning. As I loaded the dishwasher after lunch, Mom said, "Well, it's good Lillian could die." I thought her sentence was incomplete. I waited for the missing words. I thought maybe, "It's good Lillian could die surrounded by her family." Or, "It's good Lillian could die and go to be with Walter." Or even, "It's good Lillian could die and not have to endure the long, hard recovery." I looked over at Mom to see if she was searching for words. No. That was it. "It's good Lillian could die."
I think Mom is tired of the good fight and feeling Homesick. And maybe a little jealous of her friend Lillian.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Search This Blog
SPECIAL NOTE TO HOMETOWN READERS
I just thought I would let you know, my parents do not know I am blogging about them. I'd like to keep it that way, please. This is just a way to keep folks updated and my free therapy as we pack my parents' suitcases for a place none of us has been.
(I guess my dad knows about my blog now. I'm pretty sure he is okay with it.)
Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
About Me
- Gwen
- I am a wife, mother, sister, and friend. Life is full of stories, and I consider it free therapy to write some of them here.
Denial
"Denial is when we think we can set aside old issues and build a new relationship with our parents. We tell ourselves that things will be different this time, that our parents have changed. What we're denying is our own feelings, perhaps anger or abandonment or betrayal. We're also denying the very real possibility that nothing has changed, that our parents will be just as they always were." Eleanor Cade
Mom's Health Odyssey
- June 30, 2012 -- Entrance into Heaven
- May 2010 -- Colon Cancer
- Date?? -- TIAs detected
- Winter 2010 -- Intestinal Blockage
- Fall 2008 -- Atrial Fib, Blood Pressure
- 2002 -- Broken Femur
- Spring 1990 -- Colo-Rectal Cancer
What 62 Years Looks Like
Dad's Health Odyssey
- August 16, 2010 -- Entrance into Heaven
- May 2010 -- Sepsis/Hospital
- October 2009 -- Hospital for Low Blood Pressure
- Summer 2009 -- Blood Bacteria, etc./Month in hospital
- Fall 2008 -- Arteriogram
- Spring 2008 -- Memory Blip for 1/2 Day
- Spring 2008 -- Pacemaker
- December 1999 -- Whacks Head
- Fall 1989 -- Quadruple Bypass
Circle of Stubbornness
No comments:
Post a Comment