Every Anniversary is A Step to Healing

Four years, four years ago today my mom passed from this world to her forever home. I think of her often.

I analyze and reanalyze every significant event from my childhood until the day she passed.

As the years pass, I see more clearly that our relationship was like many other mother/daughter relationships… always evolving, with ups and downs, give and take, frustrations and acceptance.

In the end, I was by her side. I held her hand, I sang hymns to her and I prayed for God to take her home and end her suffering. God answered that prayer on Pentecostal Sunday. The day God sent his Holy Spirit as a comfort to us, he took her home.

I knew her passing was inevitable and I thought was prepared. I thought I had already grieved over the prior few weeks but the moment she passed, I was overwhelmed with unexpected emotions. Our journey was over.

Below is a blog post from several months before she past. I had visited her but because of Covid we had limited visits. In that time, however, we made our peace.

January 2021

No Fight Left … Only Love

I saw my mother yesterday. She was a little confused and in quarantine because of her latest hospital visit. 

Over the years my mother and I have had our shared joy and trials, times when we saw eye-to-eye and many times that we clashed. There were times I felt suffocated and pulled away and times she clung tighter.

The last few years because of her decline into dementia it seemed the clashes were more frequent and heated. I was not-so-affectionately called the “bossyone” In reality, I was trying to enable the very thing she wanted, to remain independent in her home, by making sound decisions and managing her finances. 

An unfortunate fall in 2018 lead her to rehab where she could no longer hide her advancing dementia.

We have been through a process the past three years. Just as infant grows and advances at a rapid pace between birth and four years. It seems dementia takes a turn and in three short years my mothers abilities have declined at a rapid pace.

She had surgery in October and the decline has been even more sharp since then. When I saw her this week she was so frail and helpless, she stared off into space as a newborn does when it is seeing the strange new world for the first time. She found comfort in being held, holding my hand and was soothed by the sound of music – the old hymns she would play for hours. The words to those she has not forgotten.

We have gone from my birth and total dependence, to growing, changing, challenging, disagreements, coming together, growing apart, to facing the honest truth of our relationship. Then it reversed: growing apart, coming together, disagreements, challenging, changing (especially in my views about her illness and motives), to her growing old and total dependence on others.

Now she just wants to be loved, be safe and protected. We have come full circle from the newborn daughter a mother held in her arms 65 years ago to yesterday as a daughter held her innocent elderly mother in her arms.

I braided her hair and put the pearl necklace on her that my auntie sent. Girls should always wear their pearls.

There is no fight left, what is left is only pure love.

Revisiting – No Fight Left ~ Only Love

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.

https://emyloomwordswovenwithinmyheart.com/2021/01/10/no-fight-left-only-love/

Memories of My Mother

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.

Mother and me 1986

My attempt at fried raisin pies.

Casting Cares

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.

The Last Time

I wish I could remember
The last time I touched or saw you,
As I departed was it with a joke and smile,
Or were you sad or blue?

I wish I could remember
What the words were we said,
And as we said our goodbyes
If any tears were shed.

I wish I had only known
That touch would be our last,
And that we’d be kept apart
By a quarantine that came along so fast.

I’m certain that we always
Left with an embrace and a kiss,
But little did we know
About the time we’d miss.

I wish I had only known
That visit would be the last
And with this awful illness
You’d be gone so fast.

I wish I could remember
If I held you extra tight
Or if you stood to watch
As I disappeared from sight.

I wish I could remember
That day so long ago
A day that was like any other
Except for what we didn’t know.

I wish I could remember
As it held our last earthly embrace
But we’ll embrace again
When we see the Father’s face.

Trish ©️

If it were Possible Not to Forget

What do you do when your mother forgets you?

Christmas 2016, I surprised my mother with a visit. As I stood at her door she greeted me with a simple “hello” and told me to come inside before her cat got out. Once inside, she looked at me and said, “Do I know you?” I replied…”I don’t know, do you know me?” Then she realized who I was and the tears began to flow. That was three years ago and I chalked it up to the fact that she had recently fallen, hence the reason for my surprise visit.

After this visit there were several more and one that included visiting her doctor with her. He had been telling my step-sister (who will will call my sister here on out because she is closer to me than biological siblings I have and I love her with every ounce of my being) and me that the time was coming she should not be living on her own. She was fighting for her autonomy with every bit of fight she had left. She avoided going out, she told white lies, she pleaded with her friend to not tell us about her memory lapses or drives in the night thinking it was daytime…she knew she was losing a battle with her failing memories and ability to know what was going on around her, to manage her finances and take her medications.

My sister and I visited several assisted living facilities and nursing facilities. We encouraged (begged and pleaded) with Mother to come with us but she would have none of it. She wanted to stay in her house until she died.

Fast forward 18 months, on a July morning she walked outside her house, tripped and fell. As a result of the fall she had fractured her pelvis and was placed in a nursing facility to recuperate. When it came time to make a decision to go home she was insistent that she was going home. I was torn because after her few months in the nursing home she seemed more cognitive of what was going on and seemed to be moving better as well. All this was a result of better diet, attention and care, consistent medications, lack of worries or stress from being in survival mode. Although it was difficult, with her doctors help, we did tell her she would no longer be able to live on her own.

note I live 2000 miles away and although I don’t she her every week, over the past year and a half I have been to see her eight times. The last several times, when I walk in with my sister she looks a me for a moment but pretty quickly realizes who I am. Last week, I traveled down and with my sister went to tell her that her step son had passed away. She had claimed Albert as her own when he was ten years old, the youngest of all of us he past away suddenly and unexpectedly at 59. When we walked in she said to my sister who sees her every other week, “Who is that woman with you?” My sister replies you don’t know who this is? It’s your daughter. Sister quickly reassures me that the reason she did recognize me was due to the fact my hair was up in a bun.  She says that Mother sometimes doesn’t recognize her at first if her hair is in a ponytail.

We held Mother’s hand and told her the sad news about Albert and his passing.  All in all she took it well,  but repeated the same questions over and over about how, where, funeral etc. We took her to dinner and when we left she was a little weepy but accepting. The next day we came back and took her to lunch with her friend. We had a good lunch, then went back to her room and put up valentine decorations and gave her some new sweaters and blouses we had gotten her. She was in good spirits although she still keep repeating the same questions, not fully grasping or remembering the answers. When we left she walked us to the door and we said our goodbyes.

Today, one week later, I called her to see how she was doing. It was my second call this week. The first thing she said to me today was, “Did you hear Albert died?’ I said, “Yes I heard. Remember Paulette and I came to tell you last week?” No, she didn’t remember me coming, she remembers my sister but not me. She asks again about Albert’s funeral, and then switches the subject  tells me she got new shoes but she doesn’t know where she got them or what they look like. Then she asks me, “When are you coming to see me?”

It is a little stab in the heart, she doesn’t know me but she does; she wants me to visit but she doesn’t remember. I dread the day she doesn’t know me when I come or doesn’t ask when I am coming back. Sadly,  I know one day my mother will forget me.

 

The Book of Mother: My Story

 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. 

  1. 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. 
  2. 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. 
  3. 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.  
  4. 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!  
  5. 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. “
  6. 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 was  being 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.

A6FDC883-28CE-4B78-B09F-D79719C2E575.jpeg