If she were here today, I’d ask her to join me in a cup of coffee, no froth on our cups either, we loved to drink it black. We’d sit together and laugh, and catch up, and share what was new in our lives. Mom had an opinion to share, a quirk to chuckle about, or a snarky comment to remind me of her strength. I miss those talks.
Today marks the 6-year anniversary of my mom’s death. The day I held her hands for the last time hasn’t faded from my memory.
Thinking back over the years since her passing, I’ve grown stronger and more resilient to change. Hah, I chuckle to myself as if that is really possible?
Maybe I’m plain old used to how the world we live in is temporary. Nothing is permanent, (for lack of a better word) except death? When I think back to the time leading up to Mom’s death, I remain thankful for the caregivers she had and the compassionate way they loved her like she was their mom, too. Those moments made it easier to reconcile making the choice for her to live remaining years in a home different from the one she remembered.
I have never met a person whose greatest need was anything other than real, unconditional love. You can find it in a simple act of kindness toward someone who needs help. There is no mistaking love…it is the common fiber of life, the flame that heats our soul, energizes our spirit and supplies passion to our lives. – Elisabeth Kubler-Ross
Our journey with dementia leading up to her death was long and hard, but it was our unconditional love for each other that kept us tied together to the end. While the moment of death is overwhelmingly sad, the freedom from a disease isn’t sad, it is a relief.
The day she passed, it was warm and sunny. I sat in the wheelchair next to her bed, held her hand and described the tulips popping up in the garden outside of her room. I told her how I remembered how much she loved spring, especially the iris and daffodils.
She adored daisies, too. I looked out the window and paused to remember the last flowers she gave me. I wish I hadn’t been in such a rush to get to work that day, I would’ve taken more time to notice she wasn’t feeling well. The daisies were in a golden cup, and she smiled as she gave them to me, they were sitting next to her on the table as she ate her favorite breakfast – a bowl of Cheerios.
The year she passed away I started my spring memory garden. It contains perennials Mom loved, and which I’m anxious to see once again, once the snow melts. I look forward to adding daisies to the mix this year so I can make my own bouquet.
I smile every year as the first buds on the bleeding hearts and irises bloom in my garden.
Where flowers bloom so does hope. – Lady Bird Johnson
Each flower is a soul opening out to nature. – Gerald De Nerval
Flowers are love’s truest language. – Park Benjamin
There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. – Anais Nin
The earth laughs in flowers. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
Every time I go outside to check on my garden, I’m reminded of how my mom loved to watch Copper run freely around the yard. I know in my heart, Mom is happier no longer a prisoner of the confusion and frustration of dementia. The day she passed, she was at peace and free of what held her back the last years of her life.
Our last moments together remain a beautiful and comforting memory to me. The lessons I learned during the journey have blessed my life and have energized my passion to help others going through the journey. I can’t help but think she’d be smiling and proud of how I’ve let the experience continue to grow in me.
If you’re going through a difficult time with your aging parents or a loved one, here’s a poem I’ve kept it as a treasure – I hope you find the wisdom of aging lives as you read it. Mom re-wrote it in her beautiful handwriting and tucked it away in a file for me to find someday. Every time I read it I can’t help but wonder if she knew long before the disease was visible to me that she was worried about what was happening to her? She didn’t make it to 75, the disease took her at 70. But the poem hits the highlights of what she went through and also felt.
Wishing you happy moments with loved ones while they are still alive – may you treasure the memories when they are gone, too.
I am still a Person
My steps are much slower and unsteady now.
My eyesight gets dimmer each day.
The terrifying blanks in my mind keep growing
As memories and dreams fade away.
Smile, or look.
Please, notice me.
Let me hold your hand.
Will you stay and talk awhile?
Please try to understand.
All my days now stretch before me,
Full of loneliness and fear.
My youth and vigor have slipped away,
Replaced by the wrinkles I see in my mirror.
The doctor gives me medicine,
My Pastor says his little prayer.
But there’s still an emptiness inside
I need to know YOU care.
I can live with my aging body,
After all, I’m seventy-five.
But there’s one thing that I do ask
Don’t forget me while I’m still alive.
By – C J M
Post inspiration: #1linerWeds – Who are you?
This is such a lovely post and one I totally identify with. It’s hard to lose a parent no matter how old you are. That bond is so strong. My mom and I were very close and we also only drank black coffee 🙂 My mom did not have dementia – she died very suddenly – but I have had other relatives who’ve suffered this awful illness. It’s not easy to deal with. I love that you have a memory garden. May it continue to bloom and give you joyful memories of your mom.
Aw, thank you, I appreciate your kind words and how you relate to the feelings expressed in my post. I’m toasting a cup of black coffee to you today, may you, too, remember fondly special memories of your mom :-). xx
Tears and hugs, Shelley! What a wonderful poem and a fabulous idea to plant the flowers she loved most!
Thank you, I appreciate your kind words. 🙂
Lovely flowers, Shelley! I can feel you. I lost a father and I know the pain. I love the poem 🙂
Thank you, Winnie, sorry for your loss of your father. So nice to hear from you! 🙂
You’re welcome, Shelley! It’s almost six years ago but I still miss him.
I don’t know that we ever stop missing someone who passes away, I also don’t know if I’d ever want to. Hugs to you, Winnie!
True! I often dream of him too. That’s why I try to be with my mom always and be extra patient with her. Hugs to you too, Shelley!
You’re such a wonderful daughter, treasure every moment, and give lots of hugs!
I am trying to be, Shelley. All the good things that happened in my life, I owed it to my parents especially my mom. Yes. Thank you for the reminders. God bless you, Shelley!
Your mom is so lucky to have you in her life! Bless you, too, Winnie :-)!
Thank you, Shelley! 😊
Don’t forget me while I’m still alive.
Don’t forget me after I’ve passed.
How could we ever forget you?
You are our mother.
Hugs for you, Shelley. You know I understand what you went through with your mom, as I continue the journey with my own mom. The most important thing I’ve learned is that I simply need to be with her when I visit. Conversation is not always required. Loving her by being there and holding her hand can be enough.
I love your memory garden! You mom would be thrilled that you are doing this in her memory.
Thank you, Mary. Yes, I know, I’m always touched to read your posts about visits with your mom. She’s so fortunate to have you understand the importance of being in the moment with her. There were many times mom and I sat in silence together. Hugs to you, two, too!
Powerful and thought provoking … I lost both my parents in the early eighties. My mother was my dearest friend and co-conspirator in this life. She nurtured in me the desire to write, and create. In May of each year my thoughts and memories of her cascade wonderfully. She died on my birthday and I hold it dear as our day. Awesome post!
Thank you, G. Aw, sorry to hear of your loss of both parents. What beautiful memories you have of your mother’s encouragement. So nice that you find comfort in sharing the day in a special way with her every May. She did a wonderful job encouraging you and your writing skills!
Your garden is a loving and living tribute to you mother. May it continue to bloom, giving you good memories and peace. <3
This is so beautiful…. lovely photos and post.
Thank you, Gail, I appreciate your kind words.