Mourning in stages

Those of us who have watched witnessed held vigil over a loved one dying. Are too familiar with the concept of mourning in stages. Chasing down symptoms. Settling on a prognosis. Doing anything everything you can to look for options alternatives to the eventuality of death.

There are stages of anger denial acceptance. There are phases of pleading channeling our inner negotiator attempting to alter change the terms of any all upcoming transactions. No one can bargain make a deal with death.

In the past I have been fortunate to keep a bedside vigil. Say my goodbyes. Look into their eyes and hold their hands as they take their last breaths. While so very difficult. I consider it an honor sign of respect privilege to share these final moments.

Of everything and everyone. To not share these with my mother. Is something too painful to consider bear acknowledge. Except for the deep of night. Tucked into J.P.’s arms. Allowing some release reprieve of pain with sobs. No ability capacity to truly speak all that I feel.

This pandemic has touched altered damaged some things in immeasurable ways.

(But some lessons emerging growing are lovely fantastic such as spending more time together as a family. No doubt there will be many positives found in surviving thriving through this experience)

The staff who care for my mom send pictures. I know these are meant to provide comfort and contact for us during this time.

But I can’t help but notice see how my mother continues to change shift into the next stages of darkness.

I received this picture yesterday. I actually decided that I would not could not share with anyone. I find it so very incredibly heart-wrenchingly disturbing achingly sad.

There was a picture sent on Friday that I shared. My mom’s best friend did not respond. I knew felt believed she would look at the picture and feel the same way I did.

Yesterday I came back from a run knowing that I needed to call reach out to my mom’s bestie Sondra. While chugging some water I checked my email. And this popped up. On my laptop. Full screen.

I closed it and called Sondra. In the back of my mind I was a little worried concerned she was ok. But I thought she probably was. I think I needed to have contact with her. Share my mom with her.

She had seen the photo I posted on Friday. Mom with a chocolate milkshake. She noticed the sallowing of mom’s cheeks. I remarked on the length of her nails. To which she confirmed a similar shared reaction. We discussed shared commiserated on the decline devastation that dementia brings. I told her I had just received a photo even worse but I would not share it with her. She was grateful.

It feels a bit like being on the sidelines. And not sure how to cheer anyone. There is no cheer. Just the fact of being sidelined. Unable to participate be a part of engage.

Unable to look into her eyes. Wipe the crumbs from her mouth. Feed her another bite. She is slowly fading.

I reserve quiet times. Very quick bursts. To allow myself to feel sorrow loss. But I cannot dwell in this place. Of horror.

I have a family to care for. Dogs to walk. Projects to do. I am grateful to have so many distractions.

There are and will be so many hidden stories of loss and triumph when we come out of this pandemic. For me. This moment. Is about loss. I will only allow it a brief time. But I will feel the pain of not holding her hand. Not sitting with her. Unsure if she feels comfort with me but feeling better thinking. Perhaps.