It's Friday and Mom's Passing Comes To Mind ... Again

Called the funeral parlor yesterday. Life got in the way and I'd not called back to re-request Mom's death certificate. Or was it having that final piece of paper in hand meant the passing of both my husband and my mother were factual. No denial. No setting aside. No pausing and thinking: "Have to go to the hospital" for him and "Have to go to the Nursing Home" for her.


Reality has set in. It's not something I dwell on. But as anyone who's lost a loved one will tell you, it's not a simple matter of "here today, gone tomorrow" acceptance and moving on almost as though nothing really happened.


It's a major life event and in my eyes and mind having gone through the death of one absent parent, my father, due to divorce and not seeing him for a long time, I believe the closer the relationship is, the harder the adjustment (if we call it that) is and the more it affects everything we do.


I'm strong, I tell myself. I'm a fighter. True. I've survived a great deal in life and am still in survival mode. But that was usually with one or both of these people in my life and even if I was upset with them, angry about something, disappointed or in any way feeling that relationship wasn't what I wanted or needed at the time, there was still a chance, THE chance, to go back, reconsider, restart, rewind -- with one or both of them. No more.


Mom passed on a Friday afternoon. I'm not sure I remember exactly what time. We'd stayed with her, in her room at "the facility", for two nights and were believing we faced the third and then saw great changes and a definite progression that meant Mom would soon be leaving this life.


The staff had finally moved her roommate, who was sleeping most of the time but still "present" and when awake often verbally and physically active and sometimes very negative and somewhat abusive to attendants. We made do with sleeping, daughter on a makeshift pallet on the floor and myself folding into the permanently reclining lift chair that had decided to quit working about a week before Mom passed.


Grateful not to be living through that time, again.


Looking back, thankful it was in January and not in March; Mom loved the Spring and looking forward to the flowers we had in the yard that would start blooming now and then climax in July with the bursting forth of the dozens of varied day lily plants of all sizes, shapes and colors we'd planted decades ago.


When she went into the facility, I made it a point to take her blooming plants when none were blooming outside and cuttings from the flowers we had blooming in the yard.


Even when she passed through the Lewy Body Dementia "stages" of not recognizing me or others, she still responded positively to the sight and smell of flowers. Now taking them to her is a major trip as her final wish was to be buried in a small cemetery in a town where she spent much of her childhood and close to the actual town where she was born. But I remember both Mom and my husband when the flowers bloom, when the snow comes and when so many other life joys return to remind me of past love and family.


Memories hurt. Memories heal. Time hurts and it heals. It's approaching three months for Mom and it's been a little over three years for my husband.  Mom said when he passed, "It should have been me." She was so much more aware then even though she was deep into the progression of Lewy Body Dementia. That roller coaster ride was in the beginning stages although as we discovered, the LBD was not in the early stages.


Each stage for Mom was very lengthy and the really visual and continual and non ability to return "on course" characteristic of what we did see and know as LBD and remember pre LBD hit a relatively quick and fast decline -- about two weeks for the real physical/mental total downhill journey without any return to a previous level.


Sometimes I feel those who discover LBD earlier are more fortunate and sometimes I feel they suffer even more knowing what lies ahead.


Would I want to know if I had LBD?  If it could be diagnosed when I was truly competent, I think I would. I'm far away from the time we think Mom started her actual battle with the disease but each day does move me closer in that direction. Lewy Body Dementia causes so much mistrust on the part of the person with the disease. That alone is frightening when thinking about the "self" and the possibility of having LBD. 


Trust is a basis of my life with my daughter; it was my Mom's basis of life as well. Will I follow in Mom's shoes or will I succumb to something else?  Is there ever a "good way" to pass through this life?  My husband thought his father was blessed; Dad died in his sleep. But what do we really know about the end......