I moved back home to care for my mom as she died of cancer in our home when I was 19, one year after having left home. She was a beautiful, bright and bold 54-year-old woman. Witnessing her health and life unwind before my eyes, at an age when I was already investigating what the heck this life is all about, deeply influenced my life’s path.
She died in my arms. Her final breath changed me forever. I was overwhelmed by a powerful presence and spirit of love that has continued to touch my life. It has continued to ‘ring’ especially during each death I’ve been blessed to companion.
Anger In the Midst of Sadness
The anger and rage that erupted when I learned my mom had cancer was something I didn’t know lived in me. It turned into depression as she grew sicker. I remember tears streaming down my face in the supermarket line as everyone seemed to be going about their usual lives when all the while my mom was at home fading away.
I watched the person who brought me into the world and who was supposed to be there during all my significant moments in life, begin to leave. I started seeing a therapist, and it was this psychologist who turned to me, very directly one day to tell me, “Your mom is dying and it’s time to call hospice.” At the time, I barely held back punching her in the face. Now, I consider it one of the most compassionate and significant gifts anyone has ever given me.
A Precious Crux Moment
I’ve written a lot about this moment. There’s this period of time before dying when someone is sick, but it’s not a done deal – in fact, it doesn’t even feel close. All the momentum has been on preventing an illness from progressing. There’s a chance he or she could get better even though they’re very sick. And at this delicate time, this precious, sacred time – bringing up the possibility of not getting better can feel like giving up and like ripping out the tiny thread that has signified everyone’s sanity up to this point.
Merely the thought of mentioning the chance that this illness could be what takes the person’s life, seems like the ultimate threat to any sliver of a possibility that it may not.
When Our Hospice Nurse Became My Hero
However, when hospice came into our family’s home, a huge weight was lifted as we could finally talk with people who had more of an idea about what my mom was going through, how to be the one to take care of her and how to comfort her. Our hospice nurse became my hero.
The book that influenced me greatly and helped me care for her, given to me by our hospice nurse, was “Coming Home” by Deborah Duda. And after my mom’s death it was “Motherless Daughters” by Hope Edelman that helped with my grief.
When Things Fall Apart
It was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. I wrote in my journal about feeling exhausted and like I’d already run a few marathons. Lifting her, bathing her, tending to pain and any discomfort. Not knowing how long it will go on is a big part of what makes caring for a dying person rough along with not having people to talk to about it.
In the end, as challenging as it was, it all came together in this beautiful finish. As crazy as it may sound and despite the chaotic feelings of overwhelm and emotional turmoil – it felt completely orchestrated. There was something sacred and powerful. I started reading and writing a lot about spirituality.
Life Changing
When I returned to college after taking a semester off, my learning turned towards intimacy, love relationships, massage therapy, dance, the breathtaking complexities of the body & anatomy, communication – both verbal and non-verbal, and travel.
With my life altered by such a significant loss, it was as if all my time developing my mind now needed to be unraveled to be able to be present and live with and connect with others. Sometimes I’d sneak away between classes to sit in a cemetery – strange but true. I found comfort in the quiet there and I remember experiencing some peace while reading Pema Chodron’s “When Things Fall Apart.”
Travel Back to Mom’s Roots
A year after my mom’s death, I traveled through Europe, leaving the U.S. for the first time to study abroad in Spain. I was inspired by other cultures and amazed at the myriad of ways to live life. My mom was of Spanish descent and would speak Spanish when she connected with her parents, but never with us kids or my dad. My decision to go to Spain to get better at Spanish, was much more an attempt to connect with a mom who had left early.