From November to the beginning of January... that's no time at all. We had a fully functioning, grab-life-and-live-it Mother and so quickly Mom slowed down. At first, as far as I noticed, it was more difficult for her to do things she wanted to do because of the mini-stroke/tumor pushing on her brain. She was tired more easily as we went on outings and we helped more around her home. She had a shorter patience span, she was easily emotional and she would go upstairs to rest soon after Sunday dinner. All of these things contributed to her frustration with the situation. Eventually, Mom was more and more frightened that her declining health wouldn't improve and that's when the gradual and then more obvious depression set in. You can only feed yourself positive thoughts for so long ... before you can't.
Now when I visit Mom, she lays on the recliner, still trying to keep herself busy as she knits winter caps for her grandchildren on a big circle loom. As I sat talking with her, she looped yarn around each knob. Often, six or seven loops would twirl backwards undone before she could stop the undoing. You could see that each movement was slow and deliberate. These hats are filled with determination and love.
Adam and I helped take down their Christmas tree. Mom had decided that she wanted a real tree this year. Maybe because we had never had a real tree in our family, and this was another way of experiencing a new aspect of life. We removed each white angel ornament from the tree. Mom loves angels. Then we swept off the years-old tinsel that hung on each branch. From the time I remember Christmas, I remember tinsel on the tree. Pine needles scattered the carpet and from her armchair, Mom was directing the show, letting us know what to do next and how to clean up.
Mom has lost so much weight because it's all she can do to sip a cup of tea each day. One day as I rested my hand on her knee to lean in for a kiss, I was shockedly surprised to feel how thin andy bony her leg had become under her loose clothing. Dad's taken her several times to the ER to be hydrated with IVs. She feels too nauseous from smells and food to eat.
Dad is amazing as always. He is so devoted to Mom. He cares for Mom and makes sure she gets out of bed. He takes her to her medical appointments up at Huntsman Cancer Institute and races her into the ER for hydration. It must be so emotionally difficult to watch your sweetheart die. Dad always has told Mom how much he loves her and calls her "Beautiful". Mom let us children know that she wants us to be accepting of Dad remarrying and that she wants that for him so he's not alone.
I am grateful that they moved here two years ago so we could spend time together and so Dad has support from us now too. Adam decided to move home for a few months to be with family and attend school. It's been helpful to have Adam in their home... helping and distracting Mom from her daily situation.
Mom says that "If this is what it's going to be like, then I just want to die." It's hard to watch her feel such sorrow and pain. Dad and I just purchased plots at the new cemetary the first day they went on sale and we feel blessed to have such a close place to visit her grave. I always thought I'd be so much older when Mom and Dad died. This whole process scares me as I watched Teresa, Mom's sister, die from metastasized ovarian cancer and go through a lot of the same process. They said that at the end of her life, Teresa reached up and said "Let's go". I am frightened that my BRCA2 will put my husband and children through this difficult re-run. I am more and more grateful for my Savior and his deep love for all of us, that he would be crucified and overcome death. The Resurrection is a beautiful gift and I look forward to my mother being able to embrace and enjoy a resurrected and perfected body. How can our Heavenly Father be so wise, caring and loving of each of us? He has prepared such a beautiful life for us on earth and after if we just follow His Plan.
I hesitate to know how these next few weeks will play out. Dr. Ward said she probably has only a week or so more to live. How will our lives be measured? How will each of us be remembered? Mom and I had a conversation a few weeks ago as I taped some of her memories. I told her my greatest desire right now is to be a more patient wife and mother. I feel the urgency of nurturing a loving atmosphere at home and appreciating little gifts of love we share as a family. Creating memories together. This is how I want to be remembered.
Perhaps my last "best" memory of my Mother will be when I visited her while she was hooked up to hydration IVs last week. I brought her two gifts, wrapped in paper with beautiful white ribbon bows. The first book was a photobook of our family photos we took recently. There were beautiful photos of Mom and Dad together... and all of us. Then, I read the second book to Mom while she listened. It was about the Candy Bomber in WWII, Mercedes and the Chocolate Pilot. I had recently been able to get last minute tickets for her to attend the Tabernacle Christmas Concert. She had reminded all of us to sign up for the tickets in hopes one of us would get them. The Candy Bomber made a surprise appearance amidst hundreds of tiny parachutes raining down chocolate on the audience! It was such a spectacular moment for Mom and Dad. It was fun to read the book to Mom, Dad and Adam and laugh at each funny part and tear-up at the touching words. That's a beautiful memory I'll cherish.
No comments:
Post a Comment