kimmie

Earlier it didn’t work for me – now it does! Thanks for the link, interesting study.

With tears in my eyes, I’m saying a prayer for your family right now.

Great website! I have trouble with “don’t avoid me.” We’re approaching 4 months since my sweet mother died, and friends don’t talk to me about her at all. I WANT them to talk about her. Even my husband doesn’t. I know it’s because they don’t want to upset me, but I’d rather talk about her and my memories of her.

I wanted to re-post this poem that someone posted here awhile back. I love it, it really spoke to me.

From a book of blessings called “Benedictus” by John O’Donohue – Irish Poet & Philosopher

When you lose someone you love,
Your life becomes strange,
The ground beneath you becomes fragile,
Your thoughts make your eyes unsure;
And some dead echo drags your voice down
Where words have no confidence
Your heart has grown heavy with loss;
And though this loss has wounded others too,
No one knows what has been taken from you
When the silence of absence deepens.

Flickers of guilt kindle regret
For all that was left unsaid or undone.

There are days when you wake up happy;
Again inside the fullness of life,
Until the moment breaks
And you are thrown back
Onto the black tide of loss.
Days when you have your heart back,
You are able to function well
Until in the middle of work or encounter,
Suddenly with no warning,
You are ambushed by grief.

It becomes hard to trust yourself.
All you can depend on now is that
Sorrow will remain faithful to itself.
More than you, it knows its way
And will find the right time
To pull and pull the rope of grief
Until that coiled hill of tears
Has reduced to its last drop.

Gradually, you will learn acquaintance
With the invisible form of your departed;
And when the work of grief is done,
The wound of loss will heal
And you will have learned
To wean your eyes
From that gap in the air
And be able to enter the hearth
In your soul where your loved one
Has awaited your return
All the time.

I am so sorry. Sadly, so many of us here can relate. I was in your shoes last summer with my own Mom. I’m sure it was a hard day for your family.

If your Mom wants to stay home, hopefully they can set her up on home hospice, that’s what my Mom did. And if your hospice org is anything like ours, you’ll be blown away – they were superb. They told us their purpose was to make sure that Mom was NOT in any pain. Got her all set up at my sister’s house with an awesome hospital bed with a special comfort mattress on top, all the meds she might need, a home health aid assigned twice a week to help with bathing and hair washing, a chaplain that prayed with Mom and did reiki once a week, and a social worker. Everyone involved with hospice are amazing people.

Concentrate on her comfort, and on making memories. If she’s able, get her to tell you stories, memories, and write things down. My Mom had planned to write a letter to each grandchild, but never got the chance. Don’t sweat the small stuff in life right now, just be with her and be there for her. I can tell you, you will be making memories that will stay with you forever.

I am so so sorry to read this news. Please don’t be hard on yourself or have expectations on how you should handle things. This is such a tough time, you have to take one hour at a time. Hang in there and just do the best you can.

I’m truly sorry for your loss. I love what Lainy always says when someone’s mother dies – mothers never really leave their children. I pray for you to find comfort in her memories and in time that you will see evidence that indeed she will never fully leave you.

Yes yes, the rollercoaster. I think being just 6 weeks since diagnosis, it’s probably still like the steepest, tallest and fastest coaster in the world. My mother lived for 16 months after being diagnosed, and I can tell you the rollercoaster is always there, but eventually begins to be more like a kiddie coaster at the carnival. Still ups and downs, twists and turns. But often you can see what’s around the corner and know what to expect. Or you’ve been on the coaster so many times that it just isn’t that scary anymore. You begin to understand the lingo the doctors use. You can read blood work lab reports and actually know what they mean. You begin to recognize symptoms your Mom might be having because you’ve seen them before.

But I know, sometimes you just wish it was the carousel.

I agree with Lainy’s advice – find something that’s a distraction or outlet for you. When my Mom was in the hospital for her resection last summer, it was a 45 minute drive each way, sometimes more than once a day. The new Dave Matthews Band CD had just come out, so I CRANKED it up the whole way home and sang my heart out. Same with this past summer, once she was on home hospice at my sister’s house, it was a 20 minute drive, so again I’d roll my windows down, crank the tunes and sing at the top of my lungs.

Hang in there – you’re obviously a super-duper daughter to your mother!