2/26/2016 (Day 57) Remembering My Mother's Hand in Mine

7 years ago this night, I sat at my mother's bedside as she lay dying in the hospital. I'd been there every night since she was brought in, a week prior and we knew it was, at long last, the end for her. She had fought an epic, decade long, battle...trapped in a failing body, each and every day, losing more of herself to the pain, hopelessness, and utter loss of dignity she'd endured for those 10 long years. We had both prayed, many times, for her to be freed from the prison her body had become, and so, while this was a very difficult thing to go through, it was also a profoundly beautiful and incredibly liberating experience as well. 

All but comfort measures had been stopped a few days prior and Mom was there in body only...we had all accepted the inevitable and were, quite frankly, just waiting for her body to stop functioning and die. I relished those last few nights, knowing that soon my precious mother would be gone forever. With the nighttime quiet of the hospital, closing in around us, after everyone else had left, it was just my mother and I, in the semi-darkness of her room, at the quiet end of the hall where I listened to her labored breathing, wondering if each breath might be her last. I sat in the reclining chair at her side and simply held her hand. By this time, there was little else to do, as she was mostly gone...lost to her internal process of allowing her body to stop functioning so she could take the final step into the Great Beyond. As I sat there, I held her hand in mine and I sought to memorize the feeling of it there, how the curves and valleys of our palms fit together, the weight and warmth of it...I studied it for hours as I passed in and out of slumber. When I close my eyes, I can go back to those moments and feel the warmth of my mother's hand in mine. I can feel the life coursing through her and hear her breathing, and this brings me great comfort. I am glad that I had the opportunity and time to cherish those final moments of my mother's life and to memorize the feel of her sweet hand in mine so as to have it to carry though the rest of my life without her. 

Recently, I came across something I wrote in January of 2007, near the end of my 7 years of taking care of my parents (I moved out in May of that year), my mother was, at the time, doing one of several stints of rehab she did over the course of that 7 years. She had somehow, through a series of medical incidents that resulted in her being hospitalized in Northampton, then discharged to an acute care facility in Springfield, ended up in a nursing home in Agawam (almost 50 miles away), where I visited her every week for...I can't remember how long she was stuck there, but it was much longer than we had hoped: 

My mother has been sick, and I have been caring for her for so long now, that somewhere along the way, I found it necessary to close myself off from the sadness that I feel in order to avoid being consumed by it. I manage to do this in many ways, not all of which, will I pretend, are healthy...but we do what we have to to get by. Every once in a while though, there is a crack in the armor that I have built around myself, and in a split second, all of the sadness, held so carefully at bay, comes pouring forth in a tidal wave that threatens to consume me with despair.

It was like that today, looking at my mother, who was once so strong...strong, just like me, and seeing her so sad and so defeated, so weary and so alone...oh, so very all alone. I was deeply saddened by the fact that I just don't have anymore to give to her...that no matter how much I love her and how badly I feel, I just don't have enough of myself left. And there is no one else, except my sister, who is just as weary as I, and often seems to take more from my mother than she gives. My heart breaks to see this woman, who spent her entire life doing for others, so utterly alone in her suffering. And even I, her eldest daughter, have let her down.

Leaving her alone there tonight broke my heart. As I walked to my car, the reality of it all seeped deeply into the cracks in my armor, and a flood so strong rushed forth that I was instantly swept away on a river of my tears...

Taking care of my parents (as well as my dying grandmother and a troubled teen), quite literally, cost me my sanity, health and well being. It was the most difficult 7 years of my life. But, what I have come to realize is, that no matter how difficult it was and how much it cost me, it taught me many invaluable lessons, most especially having to do with humility that I could not have learned any other way. It shaped me into a far more understanding and compassionate person than I was prior, showed me just how strong I really am, even when utterly broken, and enabled me to travel to the very depths of sadness and despair, proving to my Self that I could make it out the other side, and rebuild myself into a different, far better, person than I was prior to my journey through that darkness. 

I also learned, from my experience, that putting your own health and well being last, does you, and everyone else around you, a great disservice. It took coming to a place of complete and utter exhaustion and illness for me to finally claim my right to put my own health first and take care of me and my well being before worrying about everyone else's. It took me coming to a place of nearly complete and utter physical, mental and emotional breakdown to finally claim that right for myself. Walking away from taking care of my parents was one of the most difficult decisions I had ever had to make. Fortunately, my Gram, who had passed in 2003, came to me in Spirit and infomed me, in no uncertain terms, that I needed to take the opportunity to get my butt out of there and not feel one bit guilty about leaving and taking care of me. And, even in the afterlife, I don't have the courage to argue with my grandmother, so I did what she told me and left to begin my own process of healing. 

The point of writing this blog entry isn't to rehash the difficulties that were a part of that time or to garner pity for what we went through, but, to honor that time for what it was and to recall the poignantly painful beauty of what we faced. To share the memory of the feel of my mother's hand in mine, on this night, 7 years ago, and to feel the pulse of her life, as it was connected to mine. To give thanks to her, for ALL of the invaluable lessons she taught and continues to teach me in this lifetime. To give thanks for all that she enabled me to experience as a result of bringing me forth into this physical dimension of existence in which I am exploring myriad interesting and amazing experiences that are only possible for a Soul to experience here, in this physical realm. My Eternal Being is so grateful to this woman who brought me forth. This is an exciting time to be incarnate on the face of Gaia, and I am thankful to my dear mother, Kathleen, for enabling me to be here, now, as the person I have become. Thank you Mommy, I love you!