Waiting
2019-04-08
If you come over to my house to say your good-byes you might see any kind of waiting.
We are a large houseful of people. The kids have been taking turns with fever so even in the middle of a school day there may be any number of children up to six plus visitors and plenty of adults including aunties, great aunties, cousins, grandmas and friends. We are going on day seven of having Mom at home so there has been plenty of time for good-byes. Mom is a rock in a stream of people flowing around her, kissing her, watching her, speaking kind words to her. Relatives and friends from far off have called or Facetimed their last words. House guests have come and gone and those here can only stay so long.
From the first day home until now we have been watching movies. All of which someone remembered Mom enjoying. It’s mostly been one musical after another. Some movies might have been a stretch, but we figure Mom enjoys our sitting next to her enjoying the movie and each other. Mom also has had times throughout the day of someone reading psalms over her and praying. We have a playlist of sacred music created by Esther for contemplative listening.
Friday night when Ellen arrived, Mom revived and opened her eyes for a good five minutes. Esther played music by Frank Sinatra and my sisters and I had a dance party at the foot of Mom’s bed.
Saturday during the day when we began giving Mom medications to ease her breathing and itching was a solemn day. I expected that time was short. Three chairs were put around her bed and we took turns holding her hand and crying. We prayed and listened to sacred music all day. Then the day wore on and we got used to Mom’s new normal. Periods of strained breathing. Times of restless hands. Brief smiles. Her color remained good. Her strength did not abate. By the evening we were back to celebrating life once again. More friends stopped by and we had a house party. The children played Headbands in the living room near mom and filled the house with laughter. People talked in the sitting room next to the beautiful cedar coffin or in the music room near the piano. Some drank sherry. Some toasted Mom with wine. Some stood around the island enjoying the food people had brought or that thoughtful gift card had paid for. The nurse was impressed that Mom was handling it so well but assured us that Mom looked good and that we were doing everything right.
Sunday, we resumed our musical marathon with mustard pretzels, ginger beer and lots of chocolate. The school week loomed large, so much of my day was spent in the laundry room with uniforms and bedding. The kids were in the process of being sent to bed when the nurse showed up. She approved of the near quiet punctuated by bitter complaints of tomorrow being Monday from the younger children. Mom might like hearing the noises of a busy household or she may become disturbed by chaos as she loses her sense of where she is and what’s going on around her.
It’s our task to be vigilant, to interpret the turns of her head, the rising of her chest and the patterns of her hands.
My mom is a strong woman and we are waiting.
2019-04-08
If you come over to my house to say your good-byes you might see any kind of waiting.
We are a large houseful of people. The kids have been taking turns with fever so even in the middle of a school day there may be any number of children up to six plus visitors and plenty of adults including aunties, great aunties, cousins, grandmas and friends. We are going on day seven of having Mom at home so there has been plenty of time for good-byes. Mom is a rock in a stream of people flowing around her, kissing her, watching her, speaking kind words to her. Relatives and friends from far off have called or Facetimed their last words. House guests have come and gone and those here can only stay so long.
From the first day home until now we have been watching movies. All of which someone remembered Mom enjoying. It’s mostly been one musical after another. Some movies might have been a stretch, but we figure Mom enjoys our sitting next to her enjoying the movie and each other. Mom also has had times throughout the day of someone reading psalms over her and praying. We have a playlist of sacred music created by Esther for contemplative listening.
Friday night when Ellen arrived, Mom revived and opened her eyes for a good five minutes. Esther played music by Frank Sinatra and my sisters and I had a dance party at the foot of Mom’s bed.
Saturday during the day when we began giving Mom medications to ease her breathing and itching was a solemn day. I expected that time was short. Three chairs were put around her bed and we took turns holding her hand and crying. We prayed and listened to sacred music all day. Then the day wore on and we got used to Mom’s new normal. Periods of strained breathing. Times of restless hands. Brief smiles. Her color remained good. Her strength did not abate. By the evening we were back to celebrating life once again. More friends stopped by and we had a house party. The children played Headbands in the living room near mom and filled the house with laughter. People talked in the sitting room next to the beautiful cedar coffin or in the music room near the piano. Some drank sherry. Some toasted Mom with wine. Some stood around the island enjoying the food people had brought or that thoughtful gift card had paid for. The nurse was impressed that Mom was handling it so well but assured us that Mom looked good and that we were doing everything right.
Sunday, we resumed our musical marathon with mustard pretzels, ginger beer and lots of chocolate. The school week loomed large, so much of my day was spent in the laundry room with uniforms and bedding. The kids were in the process of being sent to bed when the nurse showed up. She approved of the near quiet punctuated by bitter complaints of tomorrow being Monday from the younger children. Mom might like hearing the noises of a busy household or she may become disturbed by chaos as she loses her sense of where she is and what’s going on around her.
It’s our task to be vigilant, to interpret the turns of her head, the rising of her chest and the patterns of her hands.
My mom is a strong woman and we are waiting.