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MoodyBlues' Mother

Speed Daemon

Speed Daemon

Android Expert
Our friend MoodyBlues lost her mother this morning at 9AM Pacific Time. She passed after a brief illness, under excellent medical care and with her loved ones by her side.

Needless to say, MoodyBlues is broken-hearted and completely occupied by the things that must be done when a loved one departs from this earthly realm. Although she hasn't asked for anything, I'm sure that those of us who have gotten to know MoodyBlues would like to write a few words of condolences and support. I know that even those who haven't had the pleasure of meeting MoodyBlues here will also want to be supportive.

My heart goes out to MoodyBlues and her family, friends and other loved ones at this difficult time. I know firsthand how this is, having lost my father in my youth, and facing the impending loss of my mother right now. Words cannot express the overwhelming gravity of the situation.

Peace be with us all, and hope for a return to joy and contentment.
 
Compassion and comforting thoughts and feelings go out to all grieving the loss of their mom and dad. May you come through it with strength and clarity of their contributions in your lives and the lives of all touched by them.
 
Thanks so much for the kind thoughts here and via PM. And thanks to my buddy Speed Daemon for posting this thread for me.

Yesterday was surreal on so many levels. Finding my mom dead yesterday morning was both shocking and NOT shocking. I'd actually envisioned it, exactly the way it happened, many times. Somehow I always knew that she would die in her sleep and that I'd enter her room in the morning and find her already dead.

Her face was cold when I found her, but I put my hand behind her head, where it was on the pillow, and it was still warm. I held her and stroked her face and hair, and told her I loved her.

The folder from hospice was near the phone, and I called. I had barely gotten a few words out--my name, and that my mom was dead--when I totally lost it and started crying hysterically. Just then my mom's aide, who has become *SO* much more than just a paid aide (a close friend, a confidant, a shoulder, an ally, my honorary daughter), came in and knew from my wailing what had happened. She took the phone and took over arranging things with hospice.

Throughout the morning I/we made phone calls to let our closest people know. Each time I thought I could talk without sobbing uncontrollably, I found out I had overestimated myself, and our aide would take the phone and finish the conversation.

A hospice nurse arrived to clean Mom up and get her ready for transport. She verified that Mom was dead. :( The mortuary guys arrived and did their thing. I'm thankful that Mom had long ago prearranged everything, so I don't have to try to make decisions now. She'll be cremated, no service, no funeral, no burial; in the summer, when I can get everybody here at the same time we'll scatter her ashes at our favorite spot in Malibu.

When I was ready the mortuary guys took her out of the house and put her into the back of a white van. Seeing Mom leave her house of 40 years for the last time, like that, was very difficult.

My daughter arrived from out of state last Wednesday. At that time Mom was alert, aware, conversational, eating, drinking, etc. My husband arrived the following morning, early. Again, Mom was alert and communicating throughout the day Thursday. Everything turned on Friday morning, where she slipped into an almost catatonic state. From that point forward there were some brief moments when she'd open her eyes, but for the most part she was shutting down--not eating, not drinking, not communicating. My husband and daughter both left Sunday...and I KNEW that Mom was going to die after they left. I was right. :( My daughter's flying back in today; she'll be here early this afternoon.

Sunday night I knew I was seeing Mom for the last time alive. I used an eyedropper to put some freshly squeezed tangerine juice [from our backyard] in her mouth, and before I left her room I put the classical music station on [on the TV]. Classical music was very important in her lifetime, and I wanted that to be the last thing she heard.

As I type this I'm in Mom's room. It's been my 'post' for weeks now, with everything in here--my laptop, my phones, my crocheting, my camera, etc.--and this just feels like where I should be. I'm not going to have her hospital bed and wheelchair picked up for...a while. When I'm ready, I'll do it. I just don't think I could stand the total EMPTINESS in here if they're gone, too.
 
Reminds me of when my grandmother passed. The last day she was alert, more alert than she had been in weeks. I took my son to see her and she held him weakly in her lap for a few minutes. She couldn't speak, but you could tell from her eyes she was saying goodbye. I'm sad for you, but happy that is was peaceful.
 
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My daughter got in this afternoon. It's so weird...she was just here day before yesterday...and Mom was here then, too. But not now. :(

I've learned a lot throughout the journey that Mom and I were on in the recent past, and it turns out the lessons aren't done yet. I realized yesterday that as much as I dreaded my daughter and husband leaving Sunday (because I'd be alone when Mom died), that's how it needed to be. As I've mentioned before, we had a contentious, sometimes estranged relationship my whole life, and only during the last year really became close, and resolved decades-old issues. The only way to finish the healing in our relationship was for it to come down to just the two of us, Mom and me, when she drew her last breath. I selfishly wanted my husband and/or daughter to stay Sunday, but now, in retrospect, I see that this is the way it should have been...needed to be.

Other than sitting outside for a while, my daughter and I spent all day in Mom's room. It seems natural, comfortable. It doesn't make the sadness worse as some might expect it to. Quite the contrary, it's actually comforting. We feel Mom's presence there.

The mortuary called today to get assorted info and confirm various things. They e-mailed me a PDF containing forms I need to sign...and it's so weird seeing your mother's name on documents referring to her as 'the deceased,' and 'date of death,' and all this other stuff that makes it REAL.
 
I'm sorry you're going through this. I know it wasn't entirely unexpected, but it's still no fun to go through.
 
MoodyBlues said:
I've learned a lot throughout the journey that Mom and I were on in the recent past, and it turns out the lessons aren't done yet. I realized yesterday that as much as I dreaded my daughter and husband leaving Sunday (because I'd be alone when Mom died), that's how it needed to be. As I've mentioned before, we had a contentious, sometimes estranged relationship my whole life, and only during the last year really became close, and resolved decades-old issues. The only way to finish the healing in our relationship was for it to come down to just the two of us, Mom and me, when she drew her last breath. I selfishly wanted my husband and/or daughter to stay Sunday, but now, in retrospect, I see that this is the way it should have been...needed to be.
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The last time I talked with my mom, just before she rang off she said "I'm so happy that we have the relationship that we have today!" Me too. And I'm happy for you that you got there as well! Keep on truckin'.
 
A bit of an update. I'm starting a new era of my life today--I now own the house my mom had lived in for 40 years. It's too long and complicated a story to explain, but the short version is that--very unexpectedly--yesterday everything happened really fast, and we had to be at the estate attorney's office for the reading of the will, signing of papers, etc. Nothing felt different, though, when I got up this morning and walked into Mom's room... :(

My daughter left early this morning. She was amazing, getting so much done that I wouldn't have been able to do. I'd made a list of people to contact, plus notes next to them--like "Mom's oldest, dearest friend"--but I couldn't have made the phone calls. I've been a total basket case, and I can only imagine making call after call, repeating the words "I want to let you know that my mother died..." IMPOSSIBLE without crying uncontrollably. I'm grateful my daughter did it for me.

I'm trying so hard to focus on Mom's peace now, and not on my pain at losing her.

On Wednesday, Mom's hospice-provided oxygen equipment and nebulizer were picked up, leaving an empty gap in her room.

The cats are spending a lot of time on Mom's bed. We've left two of her [worn, not yet laundered] shirts on the bed for them. They miss her.

Today I'm going to have Mom's aide clean out the refrigerator of things I'd gotten specifically for Mom--things I don't like and would never eat! First among those: cottage cheese. *ugh* As much as I'd like to hold onto everything for sentimental purposes, somehow I don't think cottage cheese a few months down the road would be very pleasant to have around. :eek: It already looks like vomit to me anyway.

Finally, I really want to thank everyone for the kind words and thoughts. I know we all lose loved ones and I'm not the first to do so, but it's the first, and only, time for ME losing my mother. The journey leading up to her death was so hard, so draining...and now that she's gone it's both a relief and a great sadness. I appreciate the support so much. You're a great bunch of folks. :)
 
Every day brings new feelings, new experiences, new emotions. Making coffee in the morning now is a sad thing. Mom LOVED her morning coffee! I don't think I've already written about this, but on Sunday our aide did something for Mom that was really thoughtful. We had been using sponge swabs to moisten Mom's mouth and lips with water in the 3 days before she died. Sunday morning, knowing how much Mom loved coffee, our aide made some for her and swabbed that into her mouth instead of water. We want to believe that Mom was aware of that and enjoyed it.

I finally moved most of my stuff out of Mom's room yesterday after my daughter left. I promised my daughter I would. It hadn't gotten unhealthy--yet--but we saw potential for it to get that way. I left my crocheting stuff in there, but everything else is out. I figured I could sit in there for 30 or so minutes a day crocheting, reflecting, remembering, grieving, but that's it. Mom wouldn't WANT me to be consumed by grief and sadness.

On Monday, when the hospice nurse came to clean Mom up before the mortuary people arrived, something kind of funny happened. I asked our aide to get me the scissors, and she immediately knew why--I wanted to clip a little of Mom's hair to keep. The nurse--who was a replacement for our usual nurse and we'd never met before--was like, HUH?! She asked us what we were going to do. We said "clip a little of her hair." She looked at us like we were from Mars! :laugh: She asked why..."is it some kind of religious thing?" After I left the room our aide asked her "HOW long have you been doing this?!" (Eight years.) We just couldn't believe that she'd never seen anyone do this before. Question: IS IT REALLY THAT WEIRD?
 
Getting a piece of your moms hair is not weird at all. Going after other body parts then one begins to wonder. :eek:

I'm glad you decided to share the picking up of your pieces with us. Glad we can be there for you in not only your sorrow but your joy as well. May you continue to progress toward the healthy you. God Bless
 
Clipping hair and putting it in lockets was very common in Victorian times. Hair was also incorporated into jewelry - there's a category for mourning jewelry.
 
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