Life after Death
My life after (and shortly before) my Mom's death, that is.
My Mom died last Monday morning.
It wasn't unexpected; she died of the same lung disease (interstitial fibrosis) that took her own mother, but a slower-progressing version, which she was first diagnosed with several years ago. (I think I remember writing some about it here at the time.)
I had just been over to see her the day before (Sunday), though that turned out to be the one and only day that she didn't get out of bed (or wake up, really) at all. The only thing she managed to say clearly that day was "I love you", to my Dad, in the evening. Dad was sure she knew I was there, at least. Cern and Stormy and I left between 5 and 6 that evening, to be home for dinner. That night, she reached a point where she didn't seem like she'd need more pain meds for a while, so my Dad figured he'd get a little sleep. He told her she could go, and he dozed off beside her.
He woke about 4:30 a.m., and for a moment, he thought she was breathing a lot more quietly. Then he realized she wasn't breathing at all. She was still warm, and it was probably the change / cessation in her breathing that woke him. So he figures she went around 4 a.m.
My Mom's brother and his partner were also there. They live on a boat, and had been docked nearby for a few days, spending the days at the house. That night, they decided to sleep over. So my Dad wasn't alone in the house, after. Several of the family went over that day, and the rest (including me) the following day. We've been back a few times since, just keeping my Dad company and helping with the arrangements and decisions that need to be made. I was glad I got to go along to the church and the funeral home, and take notes on all the questions that needed answering (who will speak at the memorial Mass, who will carry things to the altar, what foods do we want at the reception, which papers do we want an obituary in, which urn... etc. etc. etc.).
I always wondered how I would feel when my Mom died, since... well, we weren't close. I can't say I'll "miss" her, exactly. What's affecting me most is concern (and sadness) for my Dad. He's all alone, now. Or he will be, once all the visitors taper off. (I know that for the first week, at least, he hardly had a chance to be alone at all.) We're going to try to visit him often, from now on.
Otherwise, it's made for a very busy time -- I've been alternating between going over to Port Orchard (Dad's house) one day and crashing into sleep and pain the next day or two. This weekend we also went clothes shopping, Saturday just Cern and I to the Supermall (he mainly wanted some pants other than jeans or kilts, to wear to the funeral, and I picked up a couple shirts as well) and Sunday we all went to Value Village to take advantage of the Labor Day sale (came home with many many bags of clothes, between the 5 of us, and a fuzzy sheet for the bed, too). I think I'm DONE for a few days now. Hurty and sleepy, so so much. Hurty with apple bruises to the point where if you brush a finger lightly over my skin, I will wince and yelp. Beaten-with-a-sledgehammer hurt. I got out of bed and to the couch, but will only be awake here for a few minutes here and there through the day today, and probably the next couple days as well.
My Mom died last Monday morning.
It wasn't unexpected; she died of the same lung disease (interstitial fibrosis) that took her own mother, but a slower-progressing version, which she was first diagnosed with several years ago. (I think I remember writing some about it here at the time.)
I had just been over to see her the day before (Sunday), though that turned out to be the one and only day that she didn't get out of bed (or wake up, really) at all. The only thing she managed to say clearly that day was "I love you", to my Dad, in the evening. Dad was sure she knew I was there, at least. Cern and Stormy and I left between 5 and 6 that evening, to be home for dinner. That night, she reached a point where she didn't seem like she'd need more pain meds for a while, so my Dad figured he'd get a little sleep. He told her she could go, and he dozed off beside her.
He woke about 4:30 a.m., and for a moment, he thought she was breathing a lot more quietly. Then he realized she wasn't breathing at all. She was still warm, and it was probably the change / cessation in her breathing that woke him. So he figures she went around 4 a.m.
My Mom's brother and his partner were also there. They live on a boat, and had been docked nearby for a few days, spending the days at the house. That night, they decided to sleep over. So my Dad wasn't alone in the house, after. Several of the family went over that day, and the rest (including me) the following day. We've been back a few times since, just keeping my Dad company and helping with the arrangements and decisions that need to be made. I was glad I got to go along to the church and the funeral home, and take notes on all the questions that needed answering (who will speak at the memorial Mass, who will carry things to the altar, what foods do we want at the reception, which papers do we want an obituary in, which urn... etc. etc. etc.).
I always wondered how I would feel when my Mom died, since... well, we weren't close. I can't say I'll "miss" her, exactly. What's affecting me most is concern (and sadness) for my Dad. He's all alone, now. Or he will be, once all the visitors taper off. (I know that for the first week, at least, he hardly had a chance to be alone at all.) We're going to try to visit him often, from now on.
Otherwise, it's made for a very busy time -- I've been alternating between going over to Port Orchard (Dad's house) one day and crashing into sleep and pain the next day or two. This weekend we also went clothes shopping, Saturday just Cern and I to the Supermall (he mainly wanted some pants other than jeans or kilts, to wear to the funeral, and I picked up a couple shirts as well) and Sunday we all went to Value Village to take advantage of the Labor Day sale (came home with many many bags of clothes, between the 5 of us, and a fuzzy sheet for the bed, too). I think I'm DONE for a few days now. Hurty and sleepy, so so much. Hurty with apple bruises to the point where if you brush a finger lightly over my skin, I will wince and yelp. Beaten-with-a-sledgehammer hurt. I got out of bed and to the couch, but will only be awake here for a few minutes here and there through the day today, and probably the next couple days as well.