Losing Mother

The past few months have been difficult for our family.  On May 2^nd we lost Phil’s brother Terry.  He turned 64 years old on Tuesday and two days later he was gone.  A mere seventeen days later, while still reeling from that loss, mom fell and broke her hip.  When they verified the break in the ER in Brevard, they asked me the all familiar question:  which hospital would you like her transferred to?  I chose UNC-Pardee because mother had finished cancer treatment there less than three weeks earlier, her ortho group was now based there and her only trusted surgeon was there.  That decision was easy.  The difficult decisions came later but we held fast to God’s presence.  He was there in so many ways.  Dr. Eric Byrd admitted her and was the first to tell her that after her hip was repaired, she would have to return to a rehab unit.  I’d never met Dr. Byrd, but felt as if I knew him. He cared for my former attorney boss for many years. It was funny thinking about how many times I had spoken to his office but never seen him.  Next was the news that they couldn’t immediately do surgery because her blood was too thin (again, our regular routine); then her heart began to misbehave but, no worries, because the cardiologist who watches over my sister and I was right there to help.  Life really began to change for the worse just before her surgery when the anesthesiologist had me come to pre-op and told me that he wasn’t convinced she would survive the surgery.  He wanted to be sure that we understood the risks and had there was an opportunity to say I love you.  Those were some gut-wrenching moments.  She did survive the surgery but when she awoke it wasn’t good.  She wasn’t good.  She was tired; she was very tired. One more surgery behind her but this fall and that repair were just too much.  By the next afternoon, she told us that she didn’t have the strength to go forward and she requested hospice care. Had she not fallen she would still be with us.

It was that afternoon, at that moment, that I knew I was going to lose her.  She was headed to a reunion of people that we had lost and I would be left behind. 

Oh, I realize that I’m not the only one that would be left behind. I have siblings, this would be devastating for Bobby.  We have a son that would be losing his Gran.  Our sweet Colton who has experienced a lot of great-grandparent loss.  Losing mom was different for him and my heart is happy that I was intentional about them having some adventures together – even when it made my days with him shorter.  My husband was one of her favorites (she made that clear to me at every opportunity)!  My sisters, her stepdaughters, would feel another loss after just losing their precious mom a couple of years before.  She left siblings and many nieces and nephews.  Her sweet Aunt Glenese that she wanted to make one last trip to see.

I remember clearly sitting at the Elizabeth House and listening to Dr. Albers talk about hospice care, their commitment to finding a pain free place for her, and the reassurance that mother was a candidate to be there.  I found that fact very weird – she always bounced back – always.  I also remember feeling like the only job that I had left was making sure that her wishes were respected.  That she didn’t hurt – the hip pain was terrible even after surgery. She lost her dignity.  It took all her energy just to be with us.  Mom just didn’t have the ability to bounce back.  It wasn’t okay with me.  It still isn’t.

If you haven’t been in that same spot let me assure you that you will have no idea what to do, while also knowing exactly what you must do.  I truly did not care that people wanted to stand over her and talk to her. To tell her that it wasn’t her time and that they needed her.  It was no longer about any needs but her own.  I limited visits and we sat outside her room because the presence of people in her space was agitating to her.  My husband and sister were with me each day. Our son, my brother and our sweet Cyndi, and my sister Glenda checked in daily (sometimes, hourly), reminding me to practice self-care. There were my friends of many years checking in. We each have our own way of coping and I didn’t want anyone else to have to sit through the hospice experience if it wasn’t necessary. We met a sweet family across the hall who were also losing their beloved mother. There were also people who questioned my care of her. Yes, that happened.  It is so sad that people feel like they have a right to question but, again, I felt God’s presence when I received feedback from my family and friends that were supportive of the journey we were on. The ones that took time to reassure me that these were now my decisions to make.

What I truly cared about in the week that we spent at the Elizabeth House was finding space to be grateful for the very hard and difficult relationship that my mother and I had for almost 58 years of my life.  I do care that I did my absolute best for her.  I do care that when my father told me it would be my job to care for her (mind you that daddy died in 1995), I took that responsibility on my shoulders and I carried it until she took her last breath.  There were times that she was so mad at me it was amazing.  There were also times that she loved me fiercely and in the only way that she knew how.  I was difficult for her because I reminded her so much of my father.  That was unfair in so many ways, but it was our reality.  What was also real as hell is that if she hadn’t loved our daddy so deeply, and walked away from him so easily, her life would have been different.  Her relationship with her kids would have been different.  There are no do-overs and we must live with what we are handed.

Mom died after the sunrise on a Sunday morning.  I knew she wouldn’t die during the night because she hated the dark.  She always hated the dark.  Her service was in a old rock church in Pisgah Forest – The English Chapel. It was perfect. We buried her in the plot with our father, her wishes.

My hope and faith in Jesus Christ allow me to know that she is now living where it is light.  She doesn’t hurt and she is whole.  Those facts and my faith make it okay most of the time.  I am so grateful to my family for their support.  I am thankful to those who traveled to be with us and say their goodbyes.  I am thankful to those who reached out and supported us, even if they couldn’t be with us. I was humbled by the people that came to offer condolences.  I am super grateful for the people who continue to reach out, knowing that this is a difficult time for us.  We are living our lives, but it doesn’t mean that we aren’t grieving.  It doesn’t mean that we don’t all miss her. It doesn’t mean that each day, at some point, I don’t think I should be checking in.

We continue our journey here on earth, living and loving each other.  We continue to enjoy our family gatherings, our trips to the beach, our late summer evenings, our Sunday afternoons, playing together, worshiping together and praising God.  Our God. The One that gives and the One that takes away. Thanks be to God for the life and love of Bonnie Fordham Pruitt Phillips Hollingsworth.

Blessings and Love to All.