As I sit here today contemplating tomorrow I feel a unique peace and hope. One of the enduring truths brought home to me from these experiences is that a life that includes joy will also include hard work of the physical, emotional AND spiritual kind. When Brenda passed I said goodbye to a constant in my life that I had taken for granted. The experience lit a fire under me to examine how I spend my time and whether my limited time and energy are being spent in a way that brought me the joy promised in 2 Nephi 2:25 which reads "Adam fell that men might be and men are that they might know joy" I found myself going to work thinking "it is actually possible I could die today or next week or a year from now. Is this the way I want to spend the rest of my life?" The answer was no and the solution was a painful one but SO worth the journey. In short (too late) the loss made me well aware of my own mortality and I examine the things I do with my time more carefully now. I still fill my time as completely as I did before but I fill it with things that add to my "bucket" (See Have You Filled a Bucket Today? By Carol McCloud). I erased all but one of the games on my phone and replaced them with photo collection and family history apps. "Downtime" is spent going through photos and collecting family stories. I can't seem to shake the feeling that the task set for me is to focus on the stories that are disappearing rather than on the work that has not been done yet for those who have passed. I hereby gratefully thank those who are focused on doing the work for the dead that I have not made the priority at this point. The day after my sister's funeral I attended the sealing of my son and his wife and our 2 grandchildren with one on the way. What an incredible message of renewal and permanence my Savior sent me for the day after a painful ending.
My mother's health, physically and emotionally, tanked after my sister's death. She was not well enough to attend the wedding when my sister's youngest daughter married in August, and was barely able to attend her own sister's funeral later that month. When she entered the hospital in February with a case of pneumonia we were all preparing to lose her then. She surprised us all, as usual, and recovered and went home. She came away from that experience with a renewed sense of hope and zest for life. We had several wonderful conversations on the phone that eased my heavy heart and I had the great blessing of being able to spend my spring break with her. We talked and laughed and watched British comedies. We looked at pictures, shared stories both funny and poignant and generally enjoyed each other's company. On my last day there she began to decline. Less than a week later she fell and was rushed to the hospital again. My brother and his wife and I talked with mom and her doctors and decided to have mom enter hospice care. For us this meant taking mom off all medications except those that made her comfortable and letting nature take its course. This was a life changing decision process for all of us. My brother has been her caregiver for about a decade and the concept of not rescuing her when she began to fail was so very foreign to him. He agreed with his logical mind but his breaking heart just could not step away. I went to Tahoe to try to be whatever support I could both for Mom and for Bill and Tina.
Before we left the hospital we had a group conference call. Fifty two people were invited to join. I'm not sure how many actually joined but it was an amazing family reunion on the phone. Everyone had a chance to talk to mom. We received a family prayer from Pastor Paul. The next two days were very hard but the hospice nurse, Heather, came to help. She walked us through what the process would look like and sound like. She helped us with the physical as well as the emotional and respected and supported the spiritual. She helped us see that this process is just another kind of birth. Birth isn't always pretty or dignified but it is essential and powerful and wonderful.
By Easter Sunday Mom was awake and eating, asking for her favorite things and cracking wise. She was rallying once again. We spoke of important things, we cleared up old resentments, and we expressed our love and appreciation for each other. And we said goodbye. I went home to Minnesota.
My brother and his wife took a much deserved trip to Hawaii that had been given to them by a friend and my daughter, Brenda, came to be with Mom. Mom enjoyed her week with her grandchild and then spent the final day of her life speaking with those who had pre deceased her. I believe, like every starlet, she knew when the best time for her to exit the stage was. She knew my brother and I would grieve and that my sweet Brenda is one of the toughest women (with the gentlest heart) who ever walked and she chose her time.
I have learned so very much from this experience. All of my adult life I have been afraid that my mother would die a painful, lonely death. The process is as beautiful and natural as the process of birth. The brief opportunities I had to provide her with care and support toward the process are not undignified they are precious and intimate. I thank God with all my heart that she died knowing she is loved and appreciated by her family and that she is a precious daughter of God.
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