Saturday, February 9, 2019

{still waiting}

My mom continues to be under hospice care at the hospital. My husband met me up there on Thursday, and I said my goodbyes. Whispered in her ear. He did the same.

Yesterday I spent the day in bed. Healing.

Fourth son visited her yesterday and called after work to update me. I'd been doing well until he called. Her wrists and ankles are swollen now and her tired body continues to gradually and oh-so-slowly give out. Her breathing is getting shallow. But she's always been the strong one. A fighter with stubborn ways.

The relationships in my extended family are so very broken. My brothers withhold information relating to her care after death and only inform me if I ask. It's sort of ridiculous. Let it go...

I always imagined when my mom was dying that I'd hold a vigil. That I would stay for hours, holding her hand, being a witness. Turns out I physically can't do that. I'm crumbly. Tears come on me at the strangest times. I feel brittle. Anxiety makes my speech awkward at times. Headache and racing heart.

No matter the relationship, losing a mother is different, at least for me, than when my dad died. The connection is more complicated. The loss already is more painful.

Waiting is so hard.

I asked my husband if he thought that family members in Heaven were aware, ahead of time, of when someone was on their way. Preparing a home-coming. Regardless of my, often times, hard past with her, I'll miss her. I mean, she's my mom. Head-butting aside.

It's been such a long, complicated journey with her strokes and health issues of the past 5+ years. I can't say I've always taken the high road, but won't blast myself either. When it's all said and done, with the Lord's help, we're just trying to do the best we can.

Not always very impressive to the onlookers, though.

My struggle this very minute is holding up our children. And, sadly, their experience with her living here was unhealthy. Can't change what was, but can try to accentuate the positive, for what it's worth.

Honor my mother. Lean on the Lord for the rough spots during the wait. That about covers it.