Today, I rolled the trash out to the end of my Mom’s driveway. It was a good excuse to step outside on this beautiful November day. The Liquid Amber tree in the front yard is so lovely, its leaves red and yellow and gold.
The Hallmark Channel has switched to 24/7 Christmas movies. It did this right before Halloween, actually. I am missing the detective shows. I didn’t know how much I appreciated Monk and Diagnosis Murder until they disappeared, replaced by an endless stream of beautiful, sad heroines in cozy sweaters and tall boots who somehow find romance and an end to all their problems just in time for Christmas Day.
My Mom recently had her three month hospice re-evaluation. She will continue to receive services; that means she is still dying, I guess. Her condition has worsened this last week. We now need two people to be with her around the clock, to help her to the chair next to her bed, to the bedside commode, back into bed again. Who know that we were doing well when she could walk by herself with her walker to the bathroom? That was ten days ago. Hospice sent over a hospital bed with a special air mattress that helps prevent bed sores. She is sleeping more now and seems so sad. She cries and calls out for her sister, who passed away several years ago.
“Margie?” she cries. “Margie?”
This is breaking my heart.
There is nothing to be done for that. It’s normal, and normal can’t be fixed.
So how do I walk through these beautiful Autumn days, days that drag on with the constant drone of the television, but that I will surely long for after this season has passed? I am just doing the best I can. I know that these hours aren’t wasted, even though I am outwardly not accomplishing much. I am scribbling a few words here, but I am not building a platform or crafting a stronger social media presence or adding likes to my Facebook page or reaching my true blogging potential. I am just sitting. I am sitting in the room with my Mom, who is dying and sleeping and sad.
Here is what I need to remember: the voices that tell me I’m not doing enough are from my false self, the one that seeks its value in power and being admired by strangers. This extended time with my Mom is showing me how cruel those voices are. She is mostly powerless now: powerless to move her body, to speak her mind. That doesn’t diminish her worth. She is loved and loved and loved and always has been, from her first breath to her last, regardless of anything she has accomplished or failed to do.
Today, I will make a salad for myself and tempt my Mom with sweets, because she will sometimes eat those, even though she’s not wanting to eat much else now. I will pet my dog and be grateful that my husband takes the time to drop him off here in the morning on his way to work. I will hug my son when I see him for a moment, and FaceTime my daughter tonight and try to catch up with her. I haven’t seen her since Saturday. I miss her. I will continue to watch the Hallmark Channel, and the news, and sit with my Mom. I will breathe in and breathe out. That will be enough.
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