Showing posts with label dying. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dying. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 13, 2022

TIME

Time, for many, is a healer of wounds...both physical and emotional. Time gives each of us a chance to be eternally hopeful because time seems to hold an infinite quantity of second chances. It allows the opportunity for self-examination to those bold enough to explore within. Time acts, in many instances, as the catalyst that makes us choose one path rather than another. I smile as I think of the times instant gratification has influenced my decisions. Instead of choosing wisely or cautiously, I chose what felt best in the heat of the moment. How different my life would have been if I had given more thought to the consequences of my decisions! Nonetheless time always ironed out the kinks and made even the roughest roads easier to travel. Time too often morphs into a dreaded enemy who extinguishes life’s positive spark with uncertainty and fear. Time demands each of us to face the unknown. How we handle that unknown and incorporate it into our character shows our true strength and versatility. A person who remains “young at heart” has embraced the inevitable seasons of life. Growing old gracefully is an art that depicts a rare, true inner beauty. Vanity creates a battlefield in which gray hair and wrinkles are silent soldiers who strike unmercifully while we are busy living life. One day we awake to find our bodies have changed and our days are numbered. The gift of immortality was just an illusion. It isn't until we grow older that we see all good things do come to an end and dying is just as much a part of life as living has been. Ultimately, is time a friend or foe?
Time is Too slow for those who wait, Too swift for those who fear, Too long for those who grieve, Too short for those who rejoice; But for those who love, Time is eternity
~Henry Van Dyke~
Gratitude statement: I'm thankful time hasn't closed my heart from the pain I've experienced, but opened it to be more understanding and compassionate. 

* Repost from April 30, 2010

Sunday, December 06, 2020

ROSALIE

The focus of my last few decades has been primarily towards caring for my elderly parents. My father (actually my step-father, but he was the father I never had growing up, so he got a promotion a long time ago to being referred to as my "father") passed away in 2008 leaving a huge crater in many people's lives. Around that time was when the aliens came and abducted my mother and she began what I called her Empty Pod Stage (EPS). 

The doctors said she had Alzheimer's. I disagreed. I was right. They were wrong, but it took many years to coax her back into the land of the living. She obviously had some kind of breakdown. So many things happened in rapid succession that I think it overloaded her brain. It all started with her having breast cancer. She never reacted like anyone else being told they had cancer. She reacted more like she was told she had a fart crosswise and all she had to do is take a double dose of Gas-X to get some relief. Her reaction was almost eerie. Then there was the Category 4...almost a 5 hurricane that hit us directly. She totally lost it and wanted to be taken to the hospital. I'm sorry, but ambulances don't run in 150 mph winds. In fact, nothing runs in that kind of wind storm. 

She also had her driving privileges taken away from her and that hit her hard. In fact, that hit her harder than having cancer. That made her mad, but having cancer didn't! I never understood that one. I was relieved when they took her license because my mother had to be one of the worst driver's on the road. For 25 years before they took her license, I wouldn't ride with her if she was behind the wheel. If we went anywhere, I drove. In all honesty, she really was an accident waiting to happen. It probably was a blessing she didn't learn to drive until she was 30 something years old. 

Then there was decline of my father's health (cardiac and kidneys) which led to his demise. I suppose a person can only take so much before their mind goes into survival mode. That's when the aliens came and rescued my mother leaving behind just an empty pod that looked like her. I took good care of that pod for almost 10 years and then one day, the aliens returned. My mother came home. She started painting again and reading again and doing all the things she used to love to do just like it was only yesterday. She really didn't have any memories of that time period that stood out in her mind when I questioned her about it. 

What was almost 10 years to me and the rest of the family was at most a few days for her. In all that time she never mentioned my father or his dying. In fact, she did little talking about anything unless I really prodded her into it. Trust me, I tried everything....doctors, therapists, drugs, taking trips "home" to Maine, etc, etc. and NOTHING worked. Time was what she needed, so time was what I gave her. She even fell and broke her hip during the EPS. Now, that was a tricky situation to get her through physical therapy and up walking again, but with determination on my side, she did it and returned home from having surgery and then a 6 week stay in rehab. I know I'm luckier than most people. My mother has been around a very long time. She turned 92 on her last birthday in February.  

On October 24th my mother fell and broke her other hip. 

While she was in the hospital, I kept most people updated about her progress via text or on Facebook. It was easier than to having to repeat the same things 50 times in a row. The only people I actually talked to during this time period other than my children and a few friends were my brothers.

My final update about my mother was written and posted on December 3rd:

This afternoon my mother passed away. While I have to admit that I am relieved that her pain and suffering is finally over, my heart is broken. The sorrow that consumed both my daughter and I as we looked down upon my mother was overwhelming and as I finally walked down that long hallway away from Covenant Care Hospice at West Florida Hospital it took every ounce of strength I had to put one foot in front of the other and leave my mother behind forever.

I can't begin to express the sorrow I feel and how my heart is broken in a million pieces after watching my mother develop pneumonia and A-fib, have a pulmonary embolism, get sepsis from an UTI and lose the ability to swallow and have to have a feeding tube surgical placed in her stomach for nutrition. Basically, she went from being a healthy 92 year old on October 24th to being placed in hospice on December 2nd to dying on December 3rd. 

I'm a grown woman, yet I feel like an orphaned child. I walk around my house and feel her presence everywhere, yet she's gone. I'm okay one minute and I'm crying like a baby the next. I don't even know if that's what I'm suppose to do. I keep asking myself, "What am I suppose to do with myself now?"  I never gave this day any thought. I never thought about me in the grand scheme of things. My focus was always on other people...always on my step-father and on my mother. Thinking about myself now feels so foreign. I'm overwhelmed. I'm sad and I just want to feel like I have a purpose. I just want to feel  something other than feeling this horrible sadness.













This photo was taken not long after my mother was first admitted to the hospital. It's nice to see that she was still capable of smiling here.

At this point I think I had accepted my mother's fate...

When she was moved to hospice, I covered her with the afghan her mother had made for her. I wanted her to feel close to her mother. For some reason, I felt that was important. She always kept this afghan folded at the end of her bed. Her mother, my grandmother passed away in 1974. 

Sunday, December 09, 2012

A LIFE INTERRUPTED

The act of dying and how it affects friends and loved ones is difficult at any time of the year, but during the Christmas season it seems to intensify by a hundredfold. Many times in the past month during moments of silent lucidity, I've found myself lost in deep thought and when the realization that most of what happens in life are things meant for people to just accept without question, I struggle desperately with that acceptance especially when it involves the untimely death of a kind, gentle soul.

I know we all live and eventually die. The end unfortunately will come like an unwelcome visitor that we cannot avoid. As the end grows near, the ability to see a clear light at the end of the tunnel no longer exists. A new light emerges within us and we are able to let go of all we have known and loved as the light illuminates the pathway we all must take. That old phrase "and this too shall pass..." has vanished into some dark, abyss and what we are faced with is a journey into the true unknown.

The process of our final decline is a difficult process for all involved. We not only shutdown physically, but often times, we shutdown emotionally as well. At that point, hindsight and foresight become one very narrow view and a social death often times precedes the actually physical death we will experience. For many of us, we enter and exit life the same way...alone! Yet, how uplifting an experience it is to witness a family come together and rally around a loved one to make their transition easier. In the past month, I have seen courage as I have never seen it before. I know I have been in the presence of true love and amazing grace.

Each time throughout my life when death has called, I've asked myself what is death? Is it the end or a beginning somewhere beyond our comprehension? I know religious people can quote many passages from the Bible depicting how the afterlife will be. But can the afterlife really be a state of perfection for such imperfect beings? And how are we imperfect beings supposed to adjust to all that perfection? Won't all the harp playing and singing become deafening and maddening? Won't it make those blissful souls seated in such angelic dwellings wish for something a little more "earthly" or less perfect? A road less traveled, perhaps? I've never been one to go quietly into the night! The norm has always bothered me and as I get older, I find myself asking "why" a lot more often than I did during my defiant youth. For now, I smile knowing that I'll always sing a little off key and forget the lyrics from time to time no matter where I am or who I'm singing with.