You don't know until you know - 2025 04 08

 

September 27, 2024 and October 23, 2024

Mom was with us until she was gone. We knew the end was coming, but we did not know when. For three years I cared for Mom. There were several moments when I didn't know if she was drawing her last breath. I didn't know if I should send out an urgent call to my siblings that they might want to come and say goodbye. 

When Mom was discharged from the Day Program I didn't know if she would eventually regain enough strength to rejoin the program. When Mom was put on Emergency Long Term Care I didn't know if the new 24 hour caregiving staff was permanent or we would go back to our family team.

When Mom signed the Hospice documents I didn't know if she was going to be moved or if she was still going to gather her energy and stay with us a little longer.

Even when I came downstairs after my nap on October 4 and I realized Mom was having trouble breathing, I didn't know that these were her last breaths. After her body relaxed, and she was no longer struggling for air, I didn't know that she would never take another breath.

We didn't know she was gone until she was gone. Then it sank in that she would not open her eyes, smile and say, "Hello Darling. We are such brave girls."