By Jose F. Rodriguez
Special to El Rrun-Rrun
(Originally published in the San Benito News under the title "The Last Quarter Mile.")
As a form of self-therapy, I am writing this essay about dealing with the loss of a parent and how I prepared for it or at least tried. After spending the last decade taking care of my Mom, the loneliness of not having her around dug deep into the “core of my soul”.
Last week, my childhood friend lost his mother too and I realized I am not alone in facing what millions of people have faced before me. As painful as it may be, losing a parent or a loved one is a part of life!
When the time came, I thought I would be prepared for Mom’s passing. I told myself I was going to be brave. Men are just not supposed to show emotion. I thought I would grieve for a while and then just move on with my life. I was completely wrong! One minute I am fine but the next minute I am curled up in bed battling sadness and loneliness.
“Numbness and a blur” is the best way to describe the first few days after my Mom passed away. Only time will tell how I deal with the grief and sadness not having her in my life. I do treasure the fact that after spending the last ten years with my Mom and being the first person she saw when she woke up and the last person she saw when she went to bed, I have been rewarded and blessed with some truly special memories.
What do you say to a loved one who is approaching “The End” or to be more succinct; “Dying”?
On December 30, 2017 my Mom, at 91 years old, fell and fractured her right femur or thighbone. During a consultation and prior to the elective surgery an orthopedic surgeon made a very powerful statement that etched in my brain. I guessed it was his attempt at broaching the topic of “death”. He stated that a patient at the age of my Mom and severely underweight would survive only for about three months. Nutrition is a very important element in the healing process after surgery.
As I tended to my Mom at the hospital and later at rehab at a nursing home, I spent the next two weeks reading any book online on the subject of dealing with the possibility of death of a loved one. The notion that I was about to lose my Mom hit me like a ton of bricks.
The notion of saying a “final Good Bye” to my Mom, who I knew was facing a tough recovery, is not something that comes naturally to me or anybody. I kept asking myself “What do I say to her?” and “How and when do I say it?” The only logical answer for me was to become my Mom’s roommate at the nursing home from midnight to noon.
When the time came, I thought I would be prepared for Mom’s passing. I told myself I was going to be brave. Men are just not supposed to show emotion. I thought I would grieve for a while and then just move on with my life. I was completely wrong! One minute I am fine but the next minute I am curled up in bed battling sadness and loneliness.
“Numbness and a blur” is the best way to describe the first few days after my Mom passed away. Only time will tell how I deal with the grief and sadness not having her in my life. I do treasure the fact that after spending the last ten years with my Mom and being the first person she saw when she woke up and the last person she saw when she went to bed, I have been rewarded and blessed with some truly special memories.
What do you say to a loved one who is approaching “The End” or to be more succinct; “Dying”?
On December 30, 2017 my Mom, at 91 years old, fell and fractured her right femur or thighbone. During a consultation and prior to the elective surgery an orthopedic surgeon made a very powerful statement that etched in my brain. I guessed it was his attempt at broaching the topic of “death”. He stated that a patient at the age of my Mom and severely underweight would survive only for about three months. Nutrition is a very important element in the healing process after surgery.
As I tended to my Mom at the hospital and later at rehab at a nursing home, I spent the next two weeks reading any book online on the subject of dealing with the possibility of death of a loved one. The notion that I was about to lose my Mom hit me like a ton of bricks.
The notion of saying a “final Good Bye” to my Mom, who I knew was facing a tough recovery, is not something that comes naturally to me or anybody. I kept asking myself “What do I say to her?” and “How and when do I say it?” The only logical answer for me was to become my Mom’s roommate at the nursing home from midnight to noon.
Without being admitted as a resident, I was allowed to stay with my Mom as long as I wanted to. I was hoping and praying that my constant presence would act as a catalyst for a speedy recovery. It would be the perfect time for us to continue having our after midnight nightly “cafesito and tamales” conversations as we have had them for the past ten years. As the family would attest, we were both “night owls”.
Lesson one learned was “Don’t wait until the last minute or the final hour!” to have a meaningful conversation about what is happening or about to happen. Don’t depend on the doctor or staff to alert you when the final hour is approaching. That final breath can happen at any time. The author of “Final Journeys: A Practical Guide for Bringing Care and Comfort at the End of Life” says “Dying people have the uncanny ability to choose the moment of death, and it’s not uncommon for them to spare those they love the most or feel protective by waiting until those people leave the room”.
I balanced my time with my Mom at the hospital and nursing home between making sure she was comfortable, reassuring her I would never abandon her and that she would not die alone, and finally, telling her how much I loved her and what she meant to me and the rest of the family.
According to palliative-care physician Ira Byock, author of “The Four Things That Matter Most:” dying people want to hear four very specific messages from their loved ones. “Please forgive me.” “I forgive you.” Thank You.” and “I Love You.” I made sure I covered all four of them about three times per every hour especially the “Thank you and I Love you”.
I would say “I Love you Mom” and she would reply “I love you mi mijo.” On very special occasions she would add the word “guapo” at the end of “I love you mi mijo.” At times when she thought I was not listening, she would include the word “chiflado” at the end.
Lesson two learned was that “It’s OK and even comforting to let on that you know the end is nearing”. I reassured my Mom that I understood and accepted “God’s Plan” for my Mom and was somewhat emotionally prepared. It was my way of granting her permission to set aside her worries of what would happen to the family after she was gone. I constantly reassured her that we would all be OK.
The last words I said to my Mom while holding her hand were “I Love you Momma”, “Thank You for everything”, and “Vaya con Dios”. Touching and holding her hand as tears rolled down my face was my way of letting her know that “I am here and YOU are not alone!” and “as God as my Witness” I swear she sensed my presence and heard my voice and every word I said to her.
Lesson one learned was “Don’t wait until the last minute or the final hour!” to have a meaningful conversation about what is happening or about to happen. Don’t depend on the doctor or staff to alert you when the final hour is approaching. That final breath can happen at any time. The author of “Final Journeys: A Practical Guide for Bringing Care and Comfort at the End of Life” says “Dying people have the uncanny ability to choose the moment of death, and it’s not uncommon for them to spare those they love the most or feel protective by waiting until those people leave the room”.
I balanced my time with my Mom at the hospital and nursing home between making sure she was comfortable, reassuring her I would never abandon her and that she would not die alone, and finally, telling her how much I loved her and what she meant to me and the rest of the family.
According to palliative-care physician Ira Byock, author of “The Four Things That Matter Most:” dying people want to hear four very specific messages from their loved ones. “Please forgive me.” “I forgive you.” Thank You.” and “I Love You.” I made sure I covered all four of them about three times per every hour especially the “Thank you and I Love you”.
I would say “I Love you Mom” and she would reply “I love you mi mijo.” On very special occasions she would add the word “guapo” at the end of “I love you mi mijo.” At times when she thought I was not listening, she would include the word “chiflado” at the end.
Lesson two learned was that “It’s OK and even comforting to let on that you know the end is nearing”. I reassured my Mom that I understood and accepted “God’s Plan” for my Mom and was somewhat emotionally prepared. It was my way of granting her permission to set aside her worries of what would happen to the family after she was gone. I constantly reassured her that we would all be OK.
The last words I said to my Mom while holding her hand were “I Love you Momma”, “Thank You for everything”, and “Vaya con Dios”. Touching and holding her hand as tears rolled down my face was my way of letting her know that “I am here and YOU are not alone!” and “as God as my Witness” I swear she sensed my presence and heard my voice and every word I said to her.
Just like she watched me take my first breath when I was born, I watched her murmur something as she took her final breath. I knew she was “at peace” as she entered the “Kingdom of God” where she was welcomed with open arms.
Those who knew my Mom knew that one of her passions was “walking”. On any cool late afternoon, you could find us walking a “quarter mile” at the southern end of the Heaven Resaca Trail. I would like to publicly thank all those people who would approach us to ask permission for a hug from my Mom (reminded them of their Grandma) and to thank her for inspiring them to get up and walk. Her response to the question “What is your secret to a long life?” was always “You have to keep moving because once you stop moving, it is all over”.
Those who knew my Mom knew that one of her passions was “walking”. On any cool late afternoon, you could find us walking a “quarter mile” at the southern end of the Heaven Resaca Trail. I would like to publicly thank all those people who would approach us to ask permission for a hug from my Mom (reminded them of their Grandma) and to thank her for inspiring them to get up and walk. Her response to the question “What is your secret to a long life?” was always “You have to keep moving because once you stop moving, it is all over”.
As our family friend Rogelio Nunez profoundly said "She lived a long and healthy life!”.
I Love you Mom as you walk the heavenly clouds. My heart aches but it is softened with the knowledge that we will “walk together again”!!
I remain “Your mijo guapo, chiflado”. May God Bless all Moms and Dads who without them we would not be here!
I Love you Mom as you walk the heavenly clouds. My heart aches but it is softened with the knowledge that we will “walk together again”!!
I remain “Your mijo guapo, chiflado”. May God Bless all Moms and Dads who without them we would not be here!
2 comments:
Very relevant story for those of us who have lost our Moms since Mother's Day will be lonely without them. I lost mine 27 years ago and I still find myself talking to her as if she were right by me. I, too, visited her at the nursing home, where I eat breakfast and supper with her everyday. For those who have gone through a similar situation, may I suggest you sit down and write just like this gentleman did, to keep those memories alive for the grandchildren and great grandchildren. What is it about Mothers that in their time of poverty and problems, were able to raise so many of us without ever complaining. If we learn that lesson from her, this world would be so
much better. Happy Mother's Day in Heaven, my Mom, my sister, my friend.
God bless you for being such a wonderful son. May your mom rest in peace. I too have lost my mom and dad and I miss them every single day.
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