teapot1

teapot1

Monday, August 27, 2012


Peace

 

This week’s GBE2 prompt seems to have been chosen for me. So, though I haven’t posted in a while, I need to do this one now.

 

When I received the phone call last week from my mother’s assisted living telling me she had passed away, after the initial shock my first feeling was a sense of peace. A release, and relief that it was finally over for her—and for me. Seconds later the grief broke in and I cried in my husband’s arms, but when we went to see her in her bed, where she had passed quietly in her sleep, the only word, the only feeling, was peace.

 
 
 
 

Over the following week, with the sharpness of grief perhaps blunted by a nasty flu virus (a form of self-protection, maybe), my underlying sense of peace held me up through the planning, the wake and funeral, the consoling conversations and meals with family and friends.

 



This blessed sense of peace marked the end of a five-year ordeal that began with my brother’s death in 2008 and spiraled downward thereafter, that took us along the path of watching my mother disintegrate under dementia and doing everything we possibly could to care for her and try to make her content and her life as peaceful as possible in her final years. I feel blessed that we were able to do this, and that, when it finally became impossible for my husband and me to continue to care for her at home, we were able to find a wonderful facility to move her to, a place where they cared for her and loved her for the unique person she was.

 

I believe she was content there. She had finally gotten past the agony of knowing how her memory was deteriorating, past the pain of wondering where my brother was, the constant asking about her late siblings. She had finally come to place of peace in her mind and life, living within her own moment.

 

Though she was never a person to get involved in activities, the staff told me she enjoyed watching others play games or do crafts. They sent me a photo of her wearing silly glasses and making a face. They would take her to sit in the garden and enjoy the feeling of the sun on her face. And always, always they treated her with love: stopping to give her a hug or a kiss, to listen to her and try to get her what she wanted, celebrating her one hundredth birthday with her exactly a week to the day before she passed. They loved her spirit and sense of humor. And knowing all of that allowed me to recover some sense of peace in my own life.  

 

I don’t yet know what the upcoming days and weeks will bring, whether this loss will suddenly hit me hard with a belated blow. As I told my friends and family, I feel as though I’ve been mourning her loss for the past few years, as the mother I knew gradually slipped away from me. By the time she was taken, there was very little left of her and really nothing for her to live for. Knowing this may make it a little easier for me than if I had lost her while she was still active and aware. I’ve been able to rebuild my life essentially without her while she was still living, yet she was always there, and she is so wound into me and everything I think and do that I know she will always be here…and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I hope that what she gave me will live on in me.

 

I will never stop hating the disease that devastated her brain, and I hope I’ll be able to remain firmly committed to working in the cause of curing Alzheimer’s and other dementias. But I accept this sense of peace as a gift from God, hoping it means he’s saying to me: well done. The burden has been lifted from both of us. The day-to-day worrying about her is over. I can breathe freely again. And she—and I—have our longed-for peace.



14 comments:

  1. What a lovely tribute to your mum.

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  2. Elaine: I am sorry for your loss, and happy for the peace that it's brought you. You believe it's a blessing from God, and maybe you believe that you'll be reunited with your mom again too. Maybe not like it was in this world, and those who really understand don't want it that way anyway, but in a new and better way.

    May your faith continue to give you freedom. The pain gets easier to bear with each passing day.
    Sandi

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  3. Beautiful, Elaine.

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  4. wow..this teared me up ((hugs)) how touching, loved the pics and the one of the rose..WOW...

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  5. very nice cuz. 100 years is a lot of years i can't imagine she could have wanted more. your mom was fortunate to have you and tim, your devoted care. there just comes a time to ease out of life's burdens. you too are fortunate that you should have no regrets about taking care of her. as the days of sadness come and go, getting easier with the acceptance of how our lives are, it will be a great consolation to know you could have done no more than you did. this will keep you in peace, as acceptance comes upon you. all my love, and best wishes, that you find this peace quickly, and enjoy your life in satisfaction knowing your duty was well done.

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  6. I recognize that feeling of peace at her passing as I felt that with my mother's. You had a very unique and loving relationship and I am glad that you have the love and memories to draw on both in the pre and post alzheimer's time. Your words, shared with us over the past few years have been a remarkable tribute to her and the love you shared. Yes, the grief will ebb and flow in various levels over the next few months/years. However, the peace will always be there to temper the sharpness.

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  7. I once told someone after my dad passed, that I was not grieving because that would mean I wanted him back and I would not have wished him more pain or discomfort. Instead, I was just missing my dad. That was in 1978 and I am still missing him tonight. No one can change that or take that away. I will always miss having him in my life, but I am at complete peace with his passing because he is Home and he is with love such as he has never known. I am grateful for that, his peace and mine.

    I am so sorry for your loss and so grateful for your well deserved peace of heart. You loved her as she loved you and now, you will be separated for some time. She will greet you with open arms when you enter the kingdom. She is sending you love and peace every day.

    ♥ This is beautifully and lovingly written. *standing ovation~through my tears*

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  8. "But I accept this sense of peace as a gift from God, hoping it means he’s saying to me: well done."
    I'm sure He is saying just that.
    Lovely.

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  9. You will always miss her and she will always be apart of you. She will always be in your heart and never truly leave you. I can identify with the peace you feel and certainly and relief she must have felt to finally go on and not suffer anymore. This is such a wonderful tribute to your mother, and to your dedication as her daughter.

    (HUGS)
    Kathy
    http://gigglingtruckerswife.blogspot.com

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  10. So sorry for your loss! Your mother is a beautiful person and was very lucky to have you looking after her and a nice place to live. So glad she got to enjoy her 100th birthday! {{hugs}}

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  11. This brought tears to my eyes. So poignantly beautiful. I am sorry for your loss. She is a lovely woman. "Is" because she lives in the hearts of those who love her. hugs.

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  12. Elaine, seeing you go through all this, I do believe that you will also find some peace and your memories of the closeness with your mom will always be with you. All my love always, Pam.

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  13. I can sense your deep love for your Mom. You have articulated so beautifully her life and all she meant to you. Letting go of someone you love while they're still alive is so hard, but I do believe you did the right thing for her and for you. She looks so much at peace with that crown on her head! I'm sorry for your loss and hope that in the days ahead you will feel your Mum's presence around you.

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  14. One of the most heartwarming tributes to a parent that I have read. My condolences

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