My mom is dying

 Dark, I know. Life is sometimes dark and sad. And while there is this heartbreak, my son is excited to be on a soccer team for the first time. And my daughter is deep into her second-to-last high school year and is thrilled and nervous with all that comes with that. And as their mom, I am so very happy for them. And as a daughter, I'm beginning to mourn.

There is this realization that my mom has been in hospice for nearly three months. And recently, she has discontinued her dialysis, giving her days or weeks to live. She is the last person in my life who I have loved my whole life - since before I could remember. My mom, dad and sister were my entire world as a baby and child. I loved them before I could even identify the feeling. And now the last one of this small group is leaving. Well, she's been leaving bit by bit because of dementia. Yet there are small blessings - she hasn't forgotten me or my family this entire time and she somehow had a sweeter demeanor. But the things that made up my mom, good and bad, have slowly left her. What remains is a tiny, diminished version of my small yet intimidating mom. The 4'9" mom who could lift couches so she could vacuum underneath (yes, this was in the 80s so it's been quite some time) no longer walks, can't leave her bed without full assistance and uses disposable undergarments. The fiercely independent woman I called my mom would've hated how her body and mind have betrayed her. I have a little bit of comfort knowing that she most likely isn't aware of any of this. But if she is aware - I hope she can give herself some grace. Because we all - well, my sister and dad if they were still here - know that this is the opposite of the life my mom loved. She loved to travel. She loved being financially stable and treating her loved ones to delicious meals. She loved going to church and having brunch with her friends afterwards. She loved the life she provided for herself and her kids because she and my dad did it all on their own. They worked hard for their American dream. She loved that both her girls were college graduates. I think there was a part of her that was proud to call one of her daughters a doctor (not the right kind, but good enough!) She loved the house she lived in, the lush garden it had, and the cars she was able to buy. She wasn't materialistic but she was proud of being self-made. Well, she was definitely a consumer/shopper but she wasn't trying to keep up with the Joneses. She simply loved that if she wanted something, she had the means to get it. 

Our relationship was good, especially when I grew up. We weren't best friends but I had deep admiration for all she accomplished, respected the way she ran our household growing up (the financial aspect, not the housekeeping - she told my sister that she wasn't a housekeeper), and have so much love and gratitude for how she loved me and my kids. As a child, I never doubted my mom loved me and prioritized me. And that is something I try hard to instill in my kids. They both are extremely confident in how much I love them and I give my parents credit for that. I had a good example. 

Our relationship these past few years has been complicated. While the love will always be there, there were many times I was at my wit's end with her and I felt like I was spiraling. I sought out therapy and anxiety medication, though, to be fair, it wasn't just because of her. But our relationship certainly played a big part of it. Her having dementia made things make more sense because, for a time, I didn't understand the decisions my mom made. They seemed reckless, selfish, and sometimes dangerous. I thought she was just in denial of what she was (no longer) capable of. But maybe she just didn't realize. She was forgetful, she wasn't self-aware - she was falling all the time and getting hurt but didn't want that to stop traveling. She was forgetting to take her medicine which caused her to black out or lose her balance. She was missing appointments, standing people up and not caring. I didn't understand who this apathetic person was. The woman who raised me was always 45 minutes early to church so that she wasn't rushing and could get good parking. The mom I grew up with loved talking on the phone and making plans with friends. The woman I knew now never answered her phone anymore. 

My mom is dying. And yes, her quality of life has been deteriorating for at least a couple of years. But we adapted and tried to work around it the best way we could. But now that she has chosen to no longer go to  dialysis, she is in kidney failure. She hasn't been able to carry on a conversation for a few weeks but now she can hardly give one word answers. She now has a hard time keeping her eyes open. It's only a matter of time for when she leaves us completely. And she will be the last person in the small group of people I've loved since I was born to leave this earth.