September 29, 2020

My mom died yesterday. Despite the long journey of dementia, the end came fast. Looking back over the last few days of many calls with the skilled nursing facility, I suppose I should have been more aware of death's imminency. I guess because we did the death watch for a couple days with my dad, I expected the same with my mom. Still, during this past month while she was in the SNF, I was always told she was stable. It wasn't until the last couple days that they started to use the word declining. And it wasn't until yesterday morning that they finally said we could visit her in person. I got that call on my way into work. And of course it was a crazy day because it was the first day the kids were returning to school. I called my brother right away and we decided that we'd get together in the early afternoon and go visit mom, and say our goodbyes in case we didn't get another opportunity to do so. My brother lives and hour and a half away so he can't show up as quickly as I can, and I didn't get the impression we had to hurry just yet. I asked them to call me though, that I could get there pretty quickly if necessary. We were both driving to meet up so we could go see our mom together, and then I got yet another call from the SNF, this time telling me Mom had just passed minutes ago. So we ended up going to see her after the deed was done, and had to say our goodbyes that way. Because Mom was in a covid ward, we had to wear masks, face shields, gloves and gowns. But her room was at the end of the hall, right next to a side door, so we were able to slip in that side door, put on all the PPE, and walk into her room without passing anyone else. It's been a month since Mom tested positive for covid, so according to CDC guidelines I'm told she wouldn't really have been infectious anyway. And fortunately that means we don't have to quarantine. Today's jobs are to move her furniture out of her memory care room before we have to pay the net month's fees, and also to meet at the mortuary to make cremation arrangements. We will bury her ashes with my dad in Grand Junction at the military cemetary there. Those are the plans my dad set in place a few years ago, so at least we don't have to figure that mess out. But of course that means we have a trip to Colorado to make. It's an end to a beautiful era, and a beautiful life. Mom was strong, sweet, thoughtful, and had an easy laugh. She was easy going, but knew her mind and stated her opinions. She always put her family first and loved spending time with her grandkids. Dementia robs people of their essence, and it's horrible to watch it steal the core of who they are. While I'll miss her terribly, I'm very relieved her battle is done. I'm sad that I wasn't able to be with her these last 6 months because of covid. I never thought I'd miss out on the last 6 months of her life, although I bet she'd say she was glad I did. She told me once that if it came to that point in her life, to know that I wanted her to invest my time in my family, not her when her mind was gone. I appreciate it that she made her wishes known. It helped us know how to navigate the dark days. In these past 2 years since my dad died, I've always pictured him in heaven with a glass of amazing wine in his hand. After all, changing water into wine was Jesus' first miracle, so I'd like to think it tells us a bit about heaven. Anyway, yesterday I imagine my dad greeting my mom in heaven with a huge hug, a kiss, and a perfect glass of wine. They loved each other thoroughly, so I'm certain it was a beautiful reunion.