Our journey through Alzheimer's is over. The ramifications of the experience will last for years.
Here's one that I'm working through:
Mom became so agitated with the slightest activities around the house that I let a lot of things go in the last 2 years of Mom's illness. We rarely cooked. We did little cleaning besides what was absolutely necessary for health reasons. We didn't decorate for holidays. If something broke, we found a way to make it work with minimal disruption to Mom. Needless to say, the house is a mess.
It was only 6 months ago that I chose to place Mom in a facility that could care for her better than I could. I thought, "Wow! I can do things again. I can finally get the house put back together." Unfortunately, these energetic thoughts were followed with an unbelievable sense of hopelessness and apathy. I just didn't care. I don't know if I believed that she was going to be sent home again (it entered my mind) or whether I just needed the time to lick my wounds and heal a bit.
Whatever the reason, since Mom's passing, I have been filled with a sense of urgency and energy to get things done. I need to get up and move. I need to clean, fix, and purge. I need to work. And I have been. The house is still torn up, it always looks worse before it can look better. But, I am getting there.
As I said, I will be working through the repercussions of this journey for a long time. It feels good to take a first step back to my life.
Monday, October 19, 2015
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
No tears...
It didn't end the way I imagined.
The first call from hospice letting me know that Mom's condition was deteriorating rapidly hit me hard. I think part of my brain actually considered her "outliving us all". Unrealistic, I know. But, it was something that we said, and probably believed, during the stressful times. Physically, she was strong and healthy for a woman in her 80s. The Alzheimer's had progressed slowly. So very slowly. There was no reason to think it wouldn't continue in the same way. I knew that she would be there on my next visit, yelling that she was hungry.
But, she's gone. She's been gone almost two weeks. I am actually happy that she is gone. I am finding that most people are shocked by that. I shed many tears for my mother over the years. I grieved for her each day that I was forced to watch her slow and cruel death. My children and I said our goodbyes to her many years ago. She was spared the final suffering that many Alzheimer's victims are forced to endure.
So, no, I have no tears for my mother's passing. I do have a sense of relief and an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for her final and glorious peace. I know where she is and, more importantly, she does, too. She is whole.
Alzheimer's did not win.
Eternal peace did.
The first call from hospice letting me know that Mom's condition was deteriorating rapidly hit me hard. I think part of my brain actually considered her "outliving us all". Unrealistic, I know. But, it was something that we said, and probably believed, during the stressful times. Physically, she was strong and healthy for a woman in her 80s. The Alzheimer's had progressed slowly. So very slowly. There was no reason to think it wouldn't continue in the same way. I knew that she would be there on my next visit, yelling that she was hungry.
But, she's gone. She's been gone almost two weeks. I am actually happy that she is gone. I am finding that most people are shocked by that. I shed many tears for my mother over the years. I grieved for her each day that I was forced to watch her slow and cruel death. My children and I said our goodbyes to her many years ago. She was spared the final suffering that many Alzheimer's victims are forced to endure.
So, no, I have no tears for my mother's passing. I do have a sense of relief and an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for her final and glorious peace. I know where she is and, more importantly, she does, too. She is whole.
Alzheimer's did not win.
Eternal peace did.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)