My Mother Is Dying

I got a call today, telling me my mother is dying. Her legs are swollen too much, her circulation is bad, and her oxygen levels are well below normal.

She recently suffered a heart attack and has congestive heart failure. She is supposed to use oxygen but fights it saying “I am fine.”

The doctor says she has about six months left and that it is time to bring in hospice to make her final months comfortable. It is hard to face this since she’s always been in pretty good health. She has had a good life.

She met my father after he’d fought in a war. She said he had trouble making decisions so I’m not sure who proposed. I know they got married and at one point she went to work full time so that my father could finish his degree and become a teacher. He struggled to make a living otherwise.

When I was in high school, she went back to school and received her Associates Degree the same weekend I graduated from high school. I remember having to help her through math so she could do it. She continued on for another year or two but never got that degree she wanted. She’d been working to become a Special Education Teacher.

She’s lived through so many changes. seen so many technological developments yet never let them worry her. She was proud she could use a computer to send e-mail, scan pictures, and even use it to keep track of spending and such. On the other hand, my father believed the only good computer was a dead computer.

I remember her struggling to feed a family of six on a limited budget. We ate lots of rice and macaroni and cheese. One time she sent off for a month’s worth of recipes so she wouldn’t run out of ideas. The thing about all of this was that she couldn’t smell so she couldn’t taste. She ended up following recipes exactly, otherwise she didn’t think they would turn out right.

I took over cooking when I was 12 or so because I loved making things from scratch and played with spicing. To my mother it all tasted the same. Once everyone left home, she’d make sure to have left overs for my father to take to work and when dad retired, he took over cooking because she really didn’t like to. She’d rather clean up.

I don’t live near her, so when I finally got to visit her about two weeks ago, I was surprised. She wasn’t as perky as she’d been and it was the first time I realized she was getting older, she was slowing down so much. I never thought about her getting old. I pictured her in my life forever.

Now I know she won’t be. The only thing I can do, is schedule as many visits as I can and hope I can be there when she passes. I expect she will quietly fade into the night and be gone. I don’t know how my father will take it. I have to prepare my self for her death but I don’t think I’ll be ready for it and will still grieve hard.

It also makes me realize that I am mortal.