I'm in MN for my mother's funeral
She passed in the early hours of December 5th, she was 94 years old.
It was a rocky end after a long misery of dementia and increasing incapacity. On Oct. 7th she fell and fractured her hip, and that was the beginning of the end. The hospitalization, the surgery, the pain, the strangers all around her, the unfamiliar place. My sister spent as much time with her as she could, but Mom's dementia was such that as soon as someone she still knew left her, it was as though they'd never been there at all. and she was again alone among strangers. And in pain. Unable to remember why or what happened, aware only of the pain and scariness of being in a strange place with only strangers around her.
The surgery was "successful" - according to the surgeon, an excellent repair and if she had been able to cooperate with the rehab program Mom could have regained almost all of the mobility she had before the fall. But Mom wasn't having any. She'd been wanting to check out for several years and I guess this was her chance. She had a rough recovery, was in the hospital almost two weeks after the surgery, and then in a skilled nursing facility for another 2-3 weeks. Then 'home' to her apartment in the memory care unit where she had been living, to be evaluated by hospice.
Hospice had turned her down earlier this year when my sister had asked if she qualified. Hospice is the best assurance of quality of life for very elderly people with considerable impairments, even if they are not very close to dying; my sister had hoped to establish a less miserable life for her. But she was too robust in general health, then - the Medicaid restrictions on hospice meant she didn't qualify. When she came back from the hospital, she qualified. In fact, the hospice nurse who did the assessment said she would be surprised if Mom lasted longer than 3-4 weeks.
So I made arrangements to get to the Twin Cities, hoping to at least say good-bye, but she slipped away almost immediately, before I could get here. Instead, we scheduled her funeral for my visit.
I don't know what all I am feeling... happy for her, on one level - she was SO weary of what she was experiencing. A tangled up mess of loss and sorrow, guilt for not making it in time to say good-bye, guilt for not having been able to do something, anything, to make her last few years less miserable, numbness from the strain of travel and the funeral and trying to help my sister with the various chores like doing thank-you notes and sorting memorabilia and moving things.
More than anything, I guess I want to be able to stop time for a while, and sit in some void-like state without a schedule or agenda or people around me offering the kindest and most well-intentioned of consolations. A total stoppage that will let me take time to think and process and cry a little and come to terms and craft some kind and appreciative responses to all the well-meant condolences.
Mom had a small family remaining, just her three older daughters and a few nephews and nieces. Her youngest daughter, parents, and siblings had all gone before, along with both of her husbands, the love of her life, her lifelong best friend, and almost all her other friends.
Except that there was her OTHER family - the Twelve Step fellowships she spent more than 50 years among, working to help others to recovery. Her sponsees showed up, members of her home group, younger colleagues she'd trained and mentored. It is good to know that her legacy reached so broadly and her memory will be held green in so many hearts.
But I have so many unfinished conversations that will never be taken up again, so many hugs undelivered. I feel as though someone reached down and cut my deepest root from me, yanking it out of the ground and leaving me swaying precariously in cold winds.
I am trying not to be angry about the many political, economic and social factors that shaped and contributed to her pain. That's hardly going to do any good now.
But I feel like a motherless child...
and I am.
Thanks for being here, my DU community. I know you'll 'get it'. And I can rant a bit, and snorgle a bit, and even ugly-cry a bit, and I'm not alone.
sadly,
Bright
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My deepest condolences. May your mother finally know peace. And I wish the same for you!
Now, I just lost a very dear friend (it's nothing like losing a mom) a week ago, and these words you wrote really resonated with me:
But I have so many unfinished conversations that will never be taken up again, so many hugs undelivered. I feel as though someone reached down and cut my deepest root from me, yanking it out of the ground and leaving me swaying precariously in cold winds.
I get where you are.
Be kind to yourself!
I can relate as that is a similar story for my mom's passing. I never intended to be there but it also happened during the early days of covid which made things much worse.
Your idea of taking a respite, if you can take a day, a weekend and just go have your solitude, do it, you're on the right track. You won't get all your answers during that time but you will find threads to follow that will lead you to the resolve you need to carry on with a sense of purpose.
I came to some resolve after a few weeks as I was ready for her to go, she was ready to go and it happened. Her life doesn't suck anymore. My sisters can have their lives back, they cared for her for over ten years and it cost them dearly in countless ways. But mostly, she is no longer suffering and we are not in distress over it anymore. When someone of such advanced age passes, it's usually for the better for all involved in one way or another and that's how life works.
Take your time to mourn, you deserve it. It's a necessary part of the process. Your DU family is here for you so please don't feel too detached.
family and all who knew and loved your Mom. May your memories and stories you’ll tell comfort you 
.
Mine passed when she was only 62 and I was in my late 20's. Still miss her. Your Mom will always be with you in your heart and thoughts.
I wish you well .... and strength ....sorry about your mom...
Losing your mom is so hard - my mother passed away exactly 19 years ago and I still think about her this time of year especially when Christmas shopping. I'll see something and briefly think, "Oh, Mom would love that!" and then remember she's not around.... No matter how old you are, you need your mom.
Thank you for writing about it so lucidly.
My heartfelt condolences for your most difficult experience.
💜💜💜
but so in awe of your eulogy for your mom, that you've shared with us here. I have a whole host of alcoholics/addicts in my family, and the ones who have been brought back to a fuller, more sane-looking life by the Twelve Steps would love what you shared here. It just makes my heart feel full of love, and I feel grateful for your mom's work, and for your family.
Moms and dads aren't like real people: They carry some sort of primal, supernatural power in our lives, whether for good or for bad, but almost always more powerful than they would probably wish for. Losing them is just going to be a lonely kind of difficult, because so much of our parents are imprinted on our entire view of the world, and our view of ourselves. And for that reason, I sympathize with your loss.
Your grief is your own special gift to the relationship with your mom, and it honors the sincerity of the love you still feel for her. I'm sending you a big hug, my friend.
I hope you get what you need to make it through.
There are no rules for grief, and just do what you need to do to be ok.
Just seeing this tender, expressive post now and deeply touched by what you’re feeling. I hope you’ve been able to have some of the time you need to process it all, so much to process and find peace with, on multiple levels. The macro level is certainly personal in its impact, we could be doing so much better with our elder care structure in the US. Wishing you comfort as you re-find your strength.
Want to remember it and put it to use. My mom is elderly and perspective is, and will continue to be, important. I’ve been working on that quite a bit, both broadening and focusing in. The concept of optical device changing will be interesting to work with.
Peace, peace and comfort to you… 
Almost 20 years later I still want to ask my mom about things that we experienced years ago. When walking through a gift shop I find myself looking at something and thinking for just an instant, "Mom would love that," until I remember. Same after Dad went six years later. It doesn't go away but you adjust and cope.
We had a similar experience with my husband's mother who died at 95 last year. So many losses along the way, coupled with happy times.
RIP Mama TygrBright!