Erased

Things happen fast. Especially bad things. In the blink of an eye it’s gone, never to return.

The other day Tony was saying how fast his parents have deteriorated. I said to him “Babe, they are in their 80’s! It’s to be expected.” And he said “just a month ago she was driving. Now I’m taking them to Walmart and the post office.” I answered “I could say that a week ago my Dad was having a conversation with me. Then he died. Four years ago my Mom was standing in this very living room, helping me hang ornaments on the tree. Four years ago doesn’t seem to be a very long time. Especially when it feels like yesterday.” He acknowledged this with a heavy sigh. He knew it was coming – to be helping his parents to this extent. But he didn’t get to ease into it. One bad infection later and here we are.

I am finally at peace with what happened to my Dad. I know he is at peace, and that is all I need. I think that, even though it seemed to happen so quickly, it really was a long time coming in his opinion. I remember him remarking that he thought he only had a short time left, and he wanted to hire his caregiver back to make his life easier. So of course we did it. I never wanted to hear him talk that way, though, so I didn’t pay any attention. I should have. I was in complete denial the entire last couple years of his life. I wanted him to live. I needed him to live.

But I needed him to be at peace more. Now he is.

It’s not quite the same thing with my Mom, but the end result will be. I need her to be at peace. I want her to be at peace. And happy again. Smiling, dancing with Dad, seeing her own parents, waiting for me. Knowing that I will finally be ok without her.

Four years ago. Four years and a lifetime ago, but yet yesterday. She was in my living room. Standing, talking, laughing, smiling, patting my hand when I cried over a broken ornament. Baby Girl only four years old. Only four. Oh if only the hands of time could have waited a little longer. Slowly, steadily, my Mom as I knew her has been erased. It started with no longer being able to write a check or follow a recipe. Maybe it was when she stopped reading at night. Could have been when she no longer played games on her phone. Then the ability to know the time and weather. Gone. The ability to dress herself appropriately. Vanished. Knowing where the trash can was. Her bedroom, her bathroom, the toilet. Silently disappeared.

Finally the acknowledgement that I just couldn’t do it. The best thing for her was a care home. Choosing the wrong one at first combined with Covid-19 …. losing nine months of aptitude with my Mom. Overriding guilt and depression. Hospital stays for her, all alone, where she couldn’t communicate. Me being on the phone endlessly with nurses trying to explain and worried sick because I wasn’t allowed to be there. Watching the tears roll down her cheeks when I could be there, knowing there were many more when I wasn’t. Seeing the bruises and swelling from her falls. Her teeth getting knocked out, or falling out and nothing I can do. Trying the dentist with complete failure because Mom was terrified.

Hoping I was doing everything I could for her and feeling like a failure. Her ability to cope, her ability to use the bathroom, walk in a straight line without help, communicate appropriately. All slowly, slowly slipping away. Just slipping away.

And then all of a sudden here we are four years later. Mom no longer communicates at all. She sits. Or lies in her recliner or her bed. Still and silent. No more tears. No more pain. No more unhappiness. No more awareness. She doesn’t recognize me. She sleeps continuously. I go to see her and I hold her hand but that is all I can do now. As far as I can tell she doesn’t know if I am there or not. The silence kills me. Talk to me Mom. I miss you.

Erased.