In this month of love I am reblogging this post about one of the last sweet visits I had with my mom.
It was a January visit and I came down because she had a brief hospital stay. When she came back to the nursing facility, she had to be an isolation because Covid protocols were still being practiced.
I am so thankful I had these few days with her, even though visits were limited to one hour because of Covid.
After this visit, I came home and did not return until Mother’s Day in May. When I saw her, she had declined dramatically.
We had no conversations, and she was in so much pain and agony. It was hard to see her suffer.
This one day in January was a beautiful final chapter of the era of dementia. It was a healing day for me and it helped me walk with my mother through her final days.
I have written about my mother many times here. Mostly about our lives in her later years as we both dealt with her declining health and dementia. I’ve been thinking a lot about her the past few weeks with Mother’s Day this Sunday and her 3rd heavenly anniversary on May 23rd.
My mother and I had a close relationship yet it was intermixed with differences that led to frustrations with one another. One of the last birthday cards I got from her had a colorful bug on the front. Inside it said something like.. “mothers and daughters sometimes they bug each other, that’s just what they do.” That was the best and truest card I ever got!
However, in remembering my mother these past few weeks my memories have gone further back than the last few years of her life to things I remember from my childhood. For most of that period in time my mother suffered from depression. As a young child, I remember many occasions where I would see her sobbing, crying tears of of great sorrow as she sat alone. Sometimes she would share her pain with a friend through her tears. At those times I probably overheard more than I should about her heartaches and the abuse that she suffered.
Even while dealing with depression she managed to try and look on the better side of life. She was resourceful and talented in a variety of ways. She was an extremely good cook, she made the best fried chicken, not battered – only floured but it was crispy and juicy beyond belief. Other savory favorites she made were fried potato wedges that she tossed in flour before frying which made them come out so crunchy; yellow squash casserole cheesy yummy, it was like a vegetable version of mac and cheese… she made scrumptious mac and cheese too.
In the sweet department she would make peanut brittle that was always perfect. One of her specialties was fried raisin pies. I know it sounds weird but they were delicious. I tried making them once and they were OK but it was a bit of a fiddle and I am more the make-it-quick kind of cook. (I attached a picture of my attempt that was 2011 and I’ve not made them since).
My mother worked off and on as a waitress and she also took in ironing to earn extra cash. In addition, we lived in the country and she always had a big garden; she canned her vegetables and made special relishes (chow-chow as they call it in Texas). I remember summers in Texas pulling weeds in those big gardens, it was hot and those rows seemed like they were a mile long.
Mother was also an excellent seamstress. She made most of my clothes and her own clothes. She always said she had wanted to be a designer and she would draw her own patterns for ideas she had. She would make the most elaborated western shirts for my step-father. Many people admired the swirled and elaborate yokes and matching pocket flaps she created. She bought fancy pearly snaps from the Tandy Company and attach them to the shirts with a special die and a hammer.
I never remember her taking even a sip of alcohol but she loved her Pepsi Cola in a big mayonnaise jar with a paper towel wrapped around it held in place with a rubber band. Speaking of mayonnaise, she loved mayonnaise and peanut butter sandwiches; just thinking about watching her eat them still makes me cringe.
She was a woman that always had a heart for God. We attended the Baptist church and one of my earliest memories in church was sitting beside her holding her hand. She was a woman that sought God, she was faithful even though she had many struggles in life. She always did the best she could with what she had and she relied on God as her strength and her shield.
Mother’s Day 2021 was the last Mother’s Day I spent with my mother and just 5 days later, I was called back to Texas to say goodbye. She died on Sunday, May 23rd, Pentecostal Sunday, I played the hymn “Softly and Tenderly” and sang along with the music softly in her ear.
“Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling, Calling for you and for me. See on the portals He’s waiting and watching, Watching for you and for me…Come home, come home, Ye who are weary come home…”
This Mother’s Day my mother is home. She has no more pain, no more sorrow, and she is singing praises to her Lord and Savior.
Sunday is Mother’s Day, nearly a year since my mother passed and a final of firsts for me, my first Mother’s Day without my mother and the final event of the past year of marking each first without her.
Last Mother’s Day, I flew to Texas to see my mom and I realized it would be our last together. Since her surgery the prior October, her health had dramatically declined. Over the years I tried to travel to see her on Mother’s Day and her birthday. They were special occasions for her, ones that if missed, she would feel slighted and perhaps unloved.
Those set apart occasions that the greeting card and florist benefit from are not so important to me. I appreciate the love and attention I receive year-round, sometimes it is just a simple text to say “Hi” or “I am thinking of you.” Expressions that are sent without any expectation because of designated day are cherished in my heart.
Understand, my mother got many many expressions of my love throughout the year but those days were especially important to her, perhaps an old traditional way of thinking that this was a day set aside for Mothers, and because of that, she expected recognition and honor and I honored her.
In 2001, my mother came to visit me at Mother’s Day. We attended a Ladies Luncheon to honor mothers. The women in the group each wrote a short portrayal of their mother and shared it. Here is what I wrote May 12, 2001.
My mother was named Helen Patricia but she prefers to be called Patsy.One thing I admire about my mother is that she is able to get up in front of people and speak. Something I didn’t inherit from her. However, I really wanted to share something about her today. She lives in Texas; she writes poetry; she teaches and speaks to Women’s Groups at other Churches; she has been involved in the leadership of Girl Scouts. I grew up in a home with a believing, prayerful, faithful mother in the South at a time when prejudices and hatred surrounded us. But I grew up knowing no prejudice. My mother loved people; all people, she taught and had respect for everyone and she would do all she could to help others.For several years my mother was a single mom with three young children and although we did not have a lot, my mother always had something to share with others who had less. Whether it was a place to stay; a few dollars; a meal or just watching someone’s children so they could work. She always shared whatever she hadwith a grateful heart. My mother has also always had a love for elderly ladies. Today she teaches the senior ladies’ Sunday school class at her church and she has for the past twenty years. So many times people are too busy for the elderly, but my mother loves each one of her ladies as if they were her own mother or grandmother. She takes the time to be with them, look after them, minister to them.She would tell you that she has learned so much from these ladies and receives immeasurable blessings from knowing them. Over the years my mother has seen most all of her class go home to be with the Lord. At one time she had twenty ladies in her class now she has only four. The oldest is Mae; she is 104. Mae never had any children. Every week, my mother goes to her house, washes her dishes, answers her mail, brings her lunch and sits and eats lunch with her.When I go to visit my mother, I go around and visit with her ladies too. They tell me how sweet my mother is and I’d have to agree.
Now, Mother’s Day is a day with no plane trips, no cards, no flowers, no brunch but years’ worth of Mother’s Day memories. I pray where ever her spirit is today she knows that I tried to show her that I loved her. After this “final first” celebration without my mother, I wonder if I will begin to let go and not remind myself on each special day that she is gone or how many months have passed since she left? Will special occasions just be that or will they always be one without my mother?
Happy Mother’s Day, Mother. I did all I could to show my love, I hope you felt it.
It has been a long week sitting at Mother’s bedside. She is still with us and she has not had food or drink in 3 days. We are not eager to let her go but want her suffering to end.
On Wednesday night the nurse said that she felt Mother is waiting on someone. I told the only one who has not said goodbye (of her children) is my brother who is an alcoholic. They had not spoken in ten years. I told her that I cannot call him as the last calls I had with him were abusive.
I told my mother on Tuesday that if she was waiting to hear from Howard, it was ok to go because God was going to handle it and he’d explain it all once she was in heaven.
Yesterday, Thursday, we talked to the social worker about calling him. The social worker did call my brother and he agreed to speak to Mother. Miracles of miracles, he was decent and told her he loved her and it was ok to go. Actually he said more than I ever hoped for or expected. He tried to bring up their past relationship issues and the social worker told him “That is in the past, this is now, and your Mother needs to know you’ll be ok when she leaves.”
I could have never had that conversation with him, it would have ended in an abusive tiraid.
When the night nurse came in, she told us that after we left on Wednesday night a young aid came on duty who had a good relationship with Mother. After she went down to check on Mother, she came back and asked “Has Mrs Patsy been verbal at all?” The nurse told her she had not been for days. The the aid said, “She just told me ‘I am waiting for somebody’ “
We told the night nurse about the call to my brother. She called the aid at home on her day off and brought the phone to us so she could tell us exactly what happened.
I pray that ‘someone’ was my brother and she can now be released from the cares and worries of this world and move onto glory.
Ten minutes after the call to the aid she showed up to see us. She was so young and sweet. She told us she would dance down the halls with Mother on the way to the showers and how Mother want to be sure she didn’t lose any of her big bobby-pins. Oh my, we all knew about those wave holding bobby-pins and we all laughed. I know if Mother could still hear she was laughing with us. It was a sweet, sweet moment.
Today is Friday, May 21. Say a prayer that God will call her home.
One of DrB’s favorite sayings goes like this, “The rear view mirror is small and the windshield is big because you are suppose to focus on what is ahead of you while being reminded and learn from what you left behind.”
For the most part I can see the logic in that, however I see a reversal in the perspective. Recent events have led me to believe that the window to what lies ahead is very small. It is really like looking through the peephole and trying to determine what lies outside. Looking back through the rearview mirror you see how decisions you make were not always the best for all concerned.
My mother had been living in a nursing home for the past several years, her days were filled with greeting people in the lobby and spreading joy among the staff. In all reality her health was better than it had been in years. She spent time around other people, she got more exercise because she walked the halls and she definitely ate healthier. Her short-term memory was shot, but she knew us all and she was still a bit of a flirt and had that impish sense of humor.
A few months ago my mother had a clogged artery in her leg. The doctor called me with this grim news and indicated considering her age there was likely nothing that could be done. When he described to me how she would pass I nearly lost it. As a small glimmer of hope he indicated that he had placed a call to a specialist and as soon as he heard something he would call. That was 10AM, I heard nothing until midnight when a surgeon in the neighboring town called to give me his assessment. He would do the surgery, there could be many roadblocks along the way, she might not get blood flow restored to her lower leg and she might not survive the surgery. I felt like I was looking through that peephole in the door but I wanted to give her a chance. I believed she had so much still to give.
The procedure was a complete success, blood flow was restored all the way to her foot. Within a few days after the surgery she was her mischievous self, flirting with the male nurses, and eating well. Physical therapy had been in and stood her on her feet. I was hopeful for her full recovery. That was October, this is April. Six months later I am looking into the rearview mirror and questioning my decision.
My mother has not walked since the surgery. In addition her memory short and long term have declined, she cannot recall words and struggles to get her thoughts out. She will mimic and repeat what I say but struggles to find her own words. She recently became a Great-great-grandmother but she doesn’t comprehend that amazing fact. She will ask “Who?” and I tell her but she doesn’t really remember her great-granddaughter visiting, she doesn’t even remember her grandson.
It breaks my heart to see her in the convalescent recliners wheeled out into the common area in front of everyone. I know she would not want this! She would not want to present herself to the world (albeit her small world) like this. She never wanted people to know she could not manage and take care of herself, pride maybe, but she was always a very private person keeping her failings to herself was a form of maintaining her dignity.
Was this a false hope on my part? Should have let her go? The day after the surgery she asked my sister, “Why didn’t you let me die?” I ask myself that now. When I see her now, my heart breaks. She would not have wanted this to be the way she lived her final days. She would not want to live like this, I would not want to live like this.
If I could only have seen then, what I see now, looking into the rearview mirror. I was looking through a peephole, it would have been nice to have a full view through the windshield but that is not the way life works. Decisions are based on your best hopes for a positive outcome and looking behind does often give you an opportunity to learn.
This post came up in my Facebook memories from 10 years ago.
“Abba Father, thank You for walking with me in every season of life. Today, I cast all of my cares on You.”
Today I am still casting my cares on Him.
Last Tuesday I got a call that my mother was at the hospital. She had a blockage in her left peripheral artery and there was no blood flow to her leg. There was some discussion about her age, 87, and whether we should move ahead with surgery or say goodbye. The decision to do surgery would depend on the vascular surgeons assessment.
The surgeon called me at midnight Tuesday and told me he thought he could help her, but there were many risks and pitfalls along the way. She might not survive the procedure, they may not be able to restore blood flow below her knee which would bring a new set of problems and a host of other issues.
The decision was not hard for me, although she has dementia, she had still been moving around the nursing home being a wisecracker and spreading joy. I wanted to give her a fighting chance.
I arrived on Wednesday and she was in the ICU – it appeared that the blood flow was completely restored all the way to her toes but the first couple of days it waivered a few times and her heart was in Afib.
Today, they are moving her back to rehab. She cannot move her leg or toes and she has no sensation but pain and cold even though her foot is warm.
The doctor who saw her Tuesday night said he is amazed at how well her leg is doing. Best outcome for blood flow return he has ever seen. As far as no feeling in that leg (except for the pain) and inability to move it that will take time and physical therapy for that to return.
My sister and I are going to follow the ambulance back to the nursing and rehab facility and give her lots of love and kisses before she goes back inside. She will be in quarantine for 14 days.
I know the day will come when I will say my last goodbye, but it wasn’t this time and it’s not today.
This picture was the day after surgery and she had let me braid her hair. I took a picture today and she stuck her tongue out so you know that sass is back!
❤️ A multitude of thanks to the vascular surgeon Dr Helmer and his kindness. As well as all the staff at Ascension Providence Hospital in Waco.
Life is trying these days. So much adjusting. Adjusting to a virus that has us second guessing each move. A virus that takes its greatest toll on the elderly — in loss of life and in loss of emotional support.
As I have written before my mother is in a nursing home facility in Texas. A facility that’s 2000 miles from me. I was visiting once every couple of months but once this virus hit I have been unable to visit. The facility was locked down on March 12.
Since that time I noticed a decline in my mother’s health, her mental health and physical. Every phone call she ask when I’m coming to see her. Every phone call I tell her no one can visit because of the virus. Every phone call I tell her the virus is everywhere.
She began asking about different family members and saying she was worried about them. She would say things like, “I wonder if they’re dead. Are they dead?”
One person she asked about often was her cousin Gladys, they were as close as sisters. A few months ago I was talking to my mother on an early Sunday morning and she asked those questions about Gladys.
Gladys lives in North Carolina. Only six months younger than my mother she has no dementia and lives a full life. So that morning I called Gladys then called my mom back and set up a three-way call. They talked for 45 minutes laughed and giggled just like schoolgirls. It was so sweet and Gladys was so patient with my mother as she repeated the same questions over again. The questions were mostly about the present because the past my mother remembered fully.
Sadly yesterday, I learned that Gladys had passed away, a casualty of the COVID-19 virus. Such a great loss to her family. She full of energy, so loving and giving to all around her. I loved to hear her speak, her southern accent so much like my grandmother’s in the way she called me darling drawn out into a melodic – “Daah-lynn’.”
Now I am faced with a choice as to whether I should tell my mother. One side of me leans toward not telling her. Her mental decline has been so noticeably great since this lock down. The other side of me faces the same old question can I/should I lie when she ask about her?
After am e-mail exchange with the social worker, Christy, (she is an angel on earth) I decide I will not tell her. Christy tells me my mother has days when she will have a moment of clarity and remember the loss of her step-son earlier this year. She mourns all over again and it takes days for her to recover. Just deflect the question or tell her Gladys is fine. I have decided on the latter.
After all, Gladys is fine, she is more than fine. She is in the Heavenly realms with her maker and the lover of her soul. They will meet again one day.
I am up at 2AM perusing Ebay for kitty cat pins. My mom, Patsy, is/was a Texas cat lady extraordinaire. She always had a cat on her lap, in addition she had shelves full of figurines, teapots, cookie jars, bookends and every sort of ceramic cat thing ever made. Mostly all gifts from her friends, kids and grandkids that knew she would “just love them.”
Last year I shared about my mom’s dementia and fall which lead to her being unable to live on her own. I shared about the difficulties of clearing her house. Trying to treat her treasures with respect and knowing I could not keep everything. I took a few cats figurines, my sister took a few, I gave some “Patsy Cats” to her friends, I brought some back to Washington and gave to my friends who had met my mom.“Patsy Cats” were re-homed around the country yet many remained that in the end we donated to charity. It was heartbreaking to dismantle my mother’s possessions and treasures but it had to be done.
When the doctor told her she would not be able to live on her own, my sister and I went out to her house and picked up a few treasures to decorate her room. A book shelf, pictures and several cats to put on the shelves. In addition to all the cats mentioned above, my mom also had a large collection of kitty cat brooches. She had them on her sweaters and blouses and never left the house without being adorned with a golden cat pin. When we were at her house, I found a small metal box, when I opened it I found full of all her brooches.There were at least 20 in there plus all the ones we found still pinned on her sweaters she probably had 40 or more. I took them to her at the home, at least she could have all of these.
Now comes the sad and tragic bit. My mom has been in the nursing home a little over year now and all the pins are gone.A few months ago my sister was going to put one on her sweater as she was taking her to lunch and she couldn’t find the box. She told the staff that her box was missing and they did a search. They found the it in a ladies room next door but only one pin inside. You cannot get angry because like my mom, this lady doesn’t comprehend what is going on.Matter of fact, she insisted that the box was hers.The pins? They could not be found. Are they hidden around the care facility somewhere? Did she give them away? We do not know.
So here I am at 2AM searching Ebay for kitty cat brooches. I thought these things weren’t so much valuable as they were treasures, but apparently not. They are anywhere from 5-30 dollars or more. So I bought five, a couple were similar to ones she owned.I am going to bring them to her when I go down to Texas next month. Whether she realizes she has lost so many is hard to say, but when she sees these she will “just love them!”
Last summer looking for some guidance, advise, help and yes, probably sympathy I joined a group called Caring for Elderly Parents. I was trying to make decisions regarding my mother’s care.I found all of the above there and after a few weeks I realized I was only one of many who were facing these challenging decisions.
I have found there are no “one solution fits all all” answers. Also, rules vary state-to-state but I feel I have moved past the crucial decisions and accepted I did the best I could for my mother. I did it without the help of my biological siblings but with overwhelming love and support from my step-brother and sister who have shown their love and devotion to my mother in tangible ways.
Some of the things I learned and my thoughts are listed below in the hopes some points may help others on their journey.
Family. Even though you have siblings, you may be the only one willing to make decisions. I was lucky because even though mine did not participate, they were quite happy to relinquish any say in decisions I made.I did not even waste my breath telling them how useless they were. They know it. They can live with their decisions, I can live with mine.
Guilt!It is awful, over-powering but do not let it defeat you.My mother had fallen and broken her hip but for the 18 months prior to that her doctor had told me because of her dementia, the time was coming that she should not live alone. I live 2200 miles away and had been making 3-4 trips a year to try and help her stay independent. When the time came after recovering from the fall, she was walking and discussions were started about whether she could go home. At that point she ramped up the pressure.“I want to go home! I want to go home! I don’t care if I go home and drop dead. I’m going home”. It was a tortuous couple of weeks.I, myself, vacillated day to day about the right decision. Accepting the fact your parent is aging and can no longer care for themselves is hard to believe and navigating that role reversal takes an emotional toll.Don’t let anyone tell you what “you should” be doing. If only others could see the battle going on within your heart they would keep their opinions to themselves.That also goes to companies that are trying to sell you something. There is one commercial that says…”because we promised Dad we’d keep mom at home.”That commercial makes my blood boil. How dare they take advantage of the guilt burden we are already carrying.Trust yourself, grieve, pray, rest when you can and don’t let anyone rush you. When it is right you will know.
Debts.One thing you may find is that your parents were good at hiding problems from you, a problem many experience. Before my mother fell I had taken over paying her bills because she had lost the ability to track and manage funds as a result checks were bouncing in our joint account. Only after she fell, I found my mother had several credit cards with high balances that she was behind in the payments and she had never told me about. I called and tried to explain the situation.I told them I could make very minimum payments for her which I did out of her funds.When it was decided she would not go home, I called and told them she could no longer make these payments as the state would be taking all of her funds for her care. They tried to pressure me to pay her debt. Don’t do it. Any funds you have you may need to buy personal supplies for your parent. My mom is left with only $60 a month to buy toiletries, medical supplies, or snacks. Use your money to care for your parent. The credit card company agreed to take the risk of extending credit, I did not. If they want to sue an 85 year old for a debt, although large for her it is small potatoes for them, well let them try.I learned that in TX where my mother lives there are protections for Social Security funds. So sorry Capital One but we are done.
Trust. Trust but verify. After my mother fell the lady handling her Medicaid application at the nursing facility kept assuring me they had filed an application. After months of checking in with her, I called one day and found she had been dismissed… no application had ever been filed. I finally processed the application myself. It took many calls to the state and oftentimes just calling back and getting another person is worth the trouble.If you find someone that actually knows what they are talking about,see if you can get their direct line!
Document. Trying to keep all the details of this period taxed my sixty-something brain.I got a spiral notebook and started documenting everything. Calls to the nursing facility, calls to her utilities and other bills, passwords for her accounts on state agencies and even calls to my mother. Often day-to-day it was interesting to see what she remembered one day that was gone the next. It has been a valuable tool and also serves as a journal to remind you how far you have come and reassure you that you will make through to tomorrow, to next week or month.I call my book, “The Book of Mother. “
Forgive. Finally but not least, forgive yourself, forgive your parent and try to forgive others. Through my own journey, I went through a multitude of emotions and feelings about my mother.Love, sadness, anger, frustration and sorrow. The hardest to deal with was anger… I was angry that my mother hid things from me, angry because I felt she wasbeing manipulative and then I was angry at myself for feeling angry. It happens.I have someone I can voice these feelings of anger to without feeling judged and that helps, because I think more than anything it was an anger that I didn’t want to accept the fact that my mother was getting old.Many of these things, although she may have done them in the past,she was not doing them purposefully now.Now I try to direct my anger at the disease that takes away your mind and independence.Forgive others… that is difficult. I won’t go into depth here but just know, the evil in man’s heart knows no bounds and it shocks me to know what people will do and how they will take advantage of the elderly.Thankfully there are fewer of these people and more of the loving and giving types.
I am running low on thoughts for now. It has been 5 months since my mother’s doctor told her she could not go back to her home of 45 years.I am now in the process of dismantling my mother’s life and possessions even though she is still here, that has it’s own challenges. My mother told me the other day that she didn’t want to go home anymore. ❤️ I think the past few years she was battling to survive physically and mentally, but now is cared for and loved.She feels safe and can rest for the rest of her retirement years.
Emyloom ~ Words Woven Within My Heart 