Writing this post has been hell. I never thought I would need to do this, but here I am. As I have come to know all too well, life can change quickly. 

In early January, my mom started hospice while in a private living home that provided care. I knew that the time would eventually come when I would bring her home to spend her final days. On Thursday, February 11th my mom came to live with me. This would allow her to be surrounded by family and close friends. Once again, my living room turned into a makeshift hospital. This brought back memories of the 24-hour care and the constant worry that I was making her comfortable. 

Before I knew it, I was completely reliving the past. History was now repeating itself. Here I was, clinging to a little thread of sanity. I was in survival mode. Others claim to understand what it is like, but they can not unless they go through it themselves. 

I hit rock bottom. In what seemed like an instant, all the hard work spent rebuilding my mental health vanished. It was replaced with the trauma that came from caring for my husband when he was on hospice. With every nurse’s visit, I was all too familiar with their terms. I also knew what was coming next. I watched as my mom’s body started to shut down. Eleven days after coming home, she passed away. She was surrounded by my daughters, her sister, niece, and myself. As she took her last breath, I held her hand. 

I could not have gone through those eleven days without my daughters by my side. I feel pride in having raised such great kids who willingly poured their hearts into caring for their grandmother. I also understand that they are going through their trauma once again and I tried to be respectful to their feelings. 

I know that some people may disagree with how I handled some of the situations. There will always be some who do not agree with how I run my household. Yet, looking back, I understand that I was dealing with things the best way that I knew how. I took care of things in the way that worked well for me when under extreme stress. People have not walked in my shoes or had the same experiences as I have. While everyone has experienced some kind of loss, I see this as MY story.

One of the requests I made was for nobody to take a picture of my mom once she became unresponsive. I wanted the memories of her to be before her bright light began to dim. I knew that was not how she wanted to be remembered, and that’s not how I wanted to remember her, either. People do not have to agree, but I do believe that they should respect my decision.

My love for my mom blossomed into something that I can never truly explain. That love made me protect her to the fullest. I made the oftentimes painful decision to not allow any negativity to enter the home while she was with me. I could not jeopardize my moral principles for the desires of others. I found that my circle was getting smaller, and that gave me clarity in regards to who truly had my family’s best interests at heart.

In hindsight, I realized that I felt regret on the day that my husband passed away. I wish that I had done things differently. I need to live with that. I was terrified that I did not enjoy his final moments the way that I had played them out in my head. Therefore, I made a different choice when my mother passed away. 

During that difficult moment, I did not lose focus. I worked hard to keep things as peaceful as possible. The peace vanished the moment when others felt that I should not have restrictions in place. Now, my heart hurts. This has given me something else to worry about during my time of grief. Looking back, I would not change a thing. I know that it makes my mom proud.

I miss my mom more than I ever thought I would. My heart aches. It feels like a crumpled piece of paper that can never go back to being smooth. There is so much that will never be the same.