Diary of an end of life journey Sept 19, 2026

 September 19, 2026

Watching someone you love as much as life itself slowly lose their life is a painful process.  It is like seeing pieces of the person you love slowly peel away and drift off, like bark peeling off a branch in the water.  The person is there, present, real, substantially the same, but somehow the essence of who they are is slowly being lost.

Of course, the process started a long time ago.  The vital, active woman who was my bestie hasn't been the same for some years.  She has slowly diminished in capacity and ability over a period of years in ways both small and medium.  She moves more slowly, thinks more slowly, has more trouble with things like her remote control on her television (phone calls to come out and fix that at least three or four times a week!) and her cell phone (another three to four times a week visit,) decision making became more challenging, and even just moving around and getting things done was harder than it used to be.  But my essential mom was still there, I could still talk to her, vent to her, soak up her love and attention when I needed it, and count on her to be the mom she has always been.  It just took longer.

But now, for the first time, my mom forgot my birthday.  I don't really care about my birthday.  I am old enough that it doesn't matter all that much to me and is pretty much just another day in the life.  And, of course, its not really about the birthday, anyway.  But she has always made it special. by starting the day with a birthday wish and song, and this is the first time that I had to remind her.  And that hit harder than I expected, even though I knew it was coming.

It was one more reminder of what I am losing as I slowly lose her.  The person who truly puts me first.  Who thinks of me when she wakes up, and when she goes to bed, and a lot of hours in between.  Who wishes she could help me when I'm underwater on something.  Who still, even a few days ago, said she wished she could help me in my work because I am behind, and she doesn't want me to struggle.  Still trying to ease my path.  Just wanting to spend time with me.  Who has spent more time with me than anyone over the last years, and somehow, never got tired of me, and still wished she could see me more.

When you are young, life stretches out endlessly before you, and it seems like you have forever with the people you love.  You take for granted they will be there, until they aren't.  Because I lost my dad so young, I haven't really had the luxury of taking her fully for granted.  I know how quickly life can turn on you.  But I have been awfully comfortable that she was strong and healthy and still had a lot of years left.  As those days dwindle, I count them as more precious than ever, cherishing the time with her, thankful that of all the people who might have been chosen to be my mom, she was the one that was chosen for me.  I am indeed a fortunate daughter, and so proud to call her my mom.

Diary of an end of life journey

September 16, 2026

If you know me well, you probably know I process most of my feelings through writing.  It is a way for me, a somewhat emotionally uncomfortable person, to step outside myself and let me work through things without having to deal with the emotion of it all immediately.  So it stands to reason that, in one of the most emotional situations of my life, I would need to write and journal my feelings about my mom's end of life journey.

I have debated sharing these thoughts and feelings with the world, but in the end, I decided to do it sometimes, not because I thought it would help me, necessarily, but for the reasons I always share my blog posts - I hope that it helps someone else who might find themselves similarly situated.  In a world that feels increasingly isolated and lonely, sometimes it is nice to know that someone else out there is going through the same thing, feeling the same way at the same time, and you are not alone.  So over the coming days and weeks, I will share my thoughts on the process, and you can read or not read, whatever you choose, but I will do what I always do - put it out there and bring my authentic self to the table, as honestly as I can.

Two months ago, my life was what I considered normal.  My aging mother, 99 years old, was certainly struggling somewhat and required a lot of time and attention, but was still living on her own with daily assistance and healthy and happy in her own home.  Her congestive heart failure had not really progressed beyond the early stage, but I noticed she had suddenly lost a lot of weight.  That was the first sign that things were deteriorating.  I started bringing her meals daily, started spending a couple hours a night with her, I started paying more attention, and the check in calls and texts became many times a day, rather than just the usual five or six that it had been for years.

Then the cascade began.  Her breathing got rougher.  Her memory got sketchier.  The weird dreams got weirder, and her night time visits from dead relatives got more frequent.  Her ability to do things got more limited.  It all came to a crashing conclusion after she awoke in the middle of a television documentary and thought it was real time, and was unable to understand it wasn't.  When you can't make sense of reality, you are in trouble.  We were in trouble.

Suddenly, the strong, independent woman was gone and a version of her that I didn't recognize was left in her place, one which needed immediate and constant attention for her own health and safety, and which left us in a big conundrum.

It was a rough introduction to the limitations of just how badly elder care is lacking in this country, especially for families that are scattered around the country, as so many are.  Resources are not readily available, you have to work to get at what there is, and you have to make appointments and have time available to take them places, all while they may not yet be willing to admit they are in declining health to begin with.  It is a difficult situation for everyone, especially when you have to work, or you have small families or only one child, or possibly no child, on hand to deal with it, or a multitude of other complications that can arise.  And everything takes so much time while their health is declining by the day.

For me personally, I was unprepared.  It sounds ridiculous, I suppose, to think that you are unprepared for your 99 year old mother to suddenly be in poor health.  But she has always been so healthy, so to go from good health to bad health in what seemed (to me) an instant was just unexpected, and I was, indeed, unprepared.  I had a very difficult time wrapping my mind around the reality of it all; the immediacy of the need, moving at warp speed was just too much, and coming on top of some other huge life changes I had a hard time not just shutting down, which is my preferred response to these intense situations, so I can take a breather and get a handle on things.

So, for this first post, I guess my takeaway would be, if you feel overwhelmed by a parent's sudden serious decline, you are not alone.  The one person you are used to being your rock is suddenly the one you have to anchor, and its a tough pivot to make.  Give yourself some grace, its hard, but you will get there.  Your goal is for them to feel loved and comfortable and cared for, and you will manage, but you also need to care for yourself in the process, or you will burn yourself out, and then you will not do anyone any good.  That is why hospice is so valuable - they care for the whole family.  More about that later.

Take care.

Mother's Day thoughts

I have somehow stumbled into a very weird algorythym on my FB page recently featuring estranged parents and estranged adult children (and in-laws) discussing their various issues.  I have fed the beast, unfortunately, by clicking on these stories, because the problems piqued my curiosity, so then the algorythym gives me even more of them, and of course, the more you click, the weirder the situations get.  It has become obvious that I live a very sheltered life, if some of these stories are true.  But reading all this has caused me to think a bit about the generational waves of parents and children through the decades, especially mothers and daughters, what with Mother's Day upcoming, and I have thoughts about it, of course.

My mom is from what has been dubbed the Silent Generation, a moniker which certainly does fit her, in particular.  My mother has shared with me that her upbringing was spare.  She was born in 1926, into a big family with a small bank balance, and everything was tight, including emotions.

Time flies

 Eleven years ago, I was looking forward to the imminent start of one of life's exciting transitions - becoming a grandparent.  Of course, at the time, I didn't really understand what that meant for my life, because I had never been one, and like most life changes, you don't really understand it until you go through it.

I didn't have grandparents.  They all died when I was very young or before I was born, so I never had the grandparent experience myself.  So I didn't know what it was like to have a grandparent.  I did know from some of my cousins that I missed out on something special.  But I wasn't really clear on what, exactly, that experience was.  Because I didn't really see myself in the role that they described their grandmother filling - a woman always in the kitchen cooking and baking and making treats and loving her family by feeding everyone.  That just isn't my style.  So what was my style of grandmother going to be?

Lets just say I spiraled from there.  What kind of grandmother doesn't bake?  Was I going to be any kind of grandmother?  What do I know about grandmothering, anyway?  I barely know about kids, I'm not great with kids.... Spiral, spiral....  (I'm just gonna be honest here.  I don't handle change all that well.  Even good change.  It takes me a hot minute to get with the program, but I do eventually get there.)

And justice for all

We are watching the Epstein cover up continue to dribble on in slow motion, and we can only hope we are a long ways from the conclusion of this case, because if we aren't, there is going to be yet another cover up, and that is just not acceptable, or it shouldn't be to anyone calling themselves a morally upright person.  I just read a meme that really hit for me.  It said something along the lines of how pathetic it is that a 15 minute halftime show at a football game has garnered more national attention than the Epstein case.  While not exactly true, I think every single woman who has ever been the victim of a sexual assault feels that to her very soul.