Skip to main content

No Regrets


The few days before my mom passed, she asked me if there was anything I needed to tell her or share with her as her time was nearing an end. It didn't take me long to say, "No, Mom. I know that you know just how much I love you." We were fortunate to have been in an open, loving relationship where we have always been honest. When I say fortunate I mean I'm happy that we have always been deliberate in expressing our feelings, especially the warm fuzzy ones. I feel gracious to not have to be reconciling or apologizing for long lost grudges or arguments during those last days. That wasn't our style. We wrote cards to each other that took up the entire blank side with an outpouring of our deepest emotions not just on holidays but year-round. I didn't anticipate what a relief that would be in this moment. No regrets. No sadness about our past, just love. Deep, raw, mother-daughter "me and you against the world" kind of bond that will not end now but continue on in different ways.

I will keep that bond alive by embracing the sisterhood that she so strongly fostered between me and my sisters. We are all a little bit of her and I will hold tight to their mom-like qualities. I am going to follow one of her last pieces of advice. She said, "no matter your differences you can still create strong bonds with others. You can look past them and find true friendships like I have." Relationships are a labor of love and require purposeful attention and an abundance of compassion. By the outpouring of condolences from all paths she crossed, we know how well she lived this truth.

The moments of advice amidst her delirium offered some silver lining for what I would endure being a caretaker in the days ahead. I will say I that I feel like my little sisters are bigger to me than they ever have been. We supported each doing things we didn't know we could do. We learned to give injections, administer medications, and provide medical and emotional support in ways we had never done before. I know that Mom wanted us to be there with her at the end, but I'm fairly certain she had no idea what it would be like. We are forever changed because of those experiences. I hope we are forever closer because that is the most positive thing I can think of for us to leave with after experiencing such heartbreak.

I don't regret being one of her caregivers.  I don't regret the time and energy spent making sure she was comfortable. I know that it will even feel good, in time, that I was there through the suffering and pain. Right now, looking back that person I was taking care of was someone other than my mom. I have to separate the things I witnessed from the person who brought me into this world. She was not the mother I knew who exuded light, beauty and such warmth at the time. Someone whose touch made it all better and whose words were the all I needed to get through. Instead, I was that person who embodied those things to her. It was my words that comforted her and my touch that made her feel like it was ok to let go...





Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Tribute to my Mom(This was my speech for her service)

My mom loved to celebrate. She celebrated life full of sports, music, our military, and especially her kids. She would always say "Children should be celebrated." The funny thing about quoting her is that she would always she was someone of few words. Her words made an impact and so did her actions. As we reminisced old stories and looking through even older photographs, she is clearly celebrating in them all! I'd love to share some stories and things that I hold fast to during this difficult time. I'm not going to say I lost my mom, because I didn't. I know where she is and I know she is celebrating up there with some long lost loved ones who she's been missing dearly. The day she passed we were recounting the stories of when she was little girl. Having four older brothers played a big role in these stories as you could imagine. One of my favorites was when her brothers told her that she could be Queen for the day if she sat on the throne-shaped ca

My Papa

Wednesday 1/19 He's gone. My dad is gone. I cannot believe it still. I kept clutching my heart between sobs after finding out yesterday. I contined to do so all day, behind a mask at the airport, trying to get to him. I was too late. Thank God, my stepmom was there with him. I'm glad I did not learn of his passing alone in an airport. Instead I fell to my knees, with my hand over my heart and folded myself up into the fetal position with John's arms wrapped around me. In all my experiences of loss my cousin Jeff, my mom and now this I have always reverted to this position upon tragic news. It's such an instrinsic response. Not allowing your body to be vulnerable and exposed but protected by your own limbs and sometimes those of others. My dad's throat cancer had come back even after the laryngectomy and chemo/rad treatments in November. The absess in his neck led to him losing too much blood. From what I know, he was not in pain. He actually stood up with indign