*hugs* Next January it will be five years since my mother passed, and in December this year it will be 21 years since we began the slow inexorable process of losing her to the Alzheimers. Even now, after so long, I feel the raw grief for the loss of who she was, especially at times like my children's marriages and births of her great grandchildren. Thankfully the loss for her passing is gentler for I would never call her back to such an existence.
Yes, that. Because I remember gultily offering up a thought, or a prayer, or whtever it was or to whomever addressed,during my father's final difficult weeks when the cancer was taking greatchunks of his mind and his body and his sooul - "please, no more of this than necessary.". Which amounted to asking for my father to die, really. But watching him suffer... was not something I could do with any degree of equanimity, and the alternative was not, could noever again be, that he would get better, that he would get well. So with that bargain off the table it became a much starker deal. Let him drag on the pain and the agony of prolonged failure of blood and bone and sinew, or let him go, quietly, so he could find peace again. It tore me up, but I could only choose to ask what I asked, in the end. Because watching someone you love dying the death of a thousand cuts is unconscionable.
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