Replies to This Discussion

Permalink Reply by Brett Bowman on March 7, 2018 at 11:59am

DeeDee, I understand, especially the part about wanting her back. There is a finality to all of this that is overwhelming and gut wrenching. I lost my mom on Christmas Eve, 2015. As much as I loved/love my mother, I never realized that she was the key to so many aspects of my daily life.

It's not waking up and going to work that bothers me. It's waking up and remembering that she has passed. It's a reality that we cannot get away from.

All I can tell you is to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Take baby steps if you have to. Live your life in such a way that honors your mom. Remember that she is literally a part of you. She goes on through you.

God Bless You.

Permalink Reply by Douglas on April 7, 2018 at 5:59am

I totally get it. My late, great Mom has been gone now for 7 years, 10 months and 4 days. I knew she would not be there forever and I tried to prepare for that emotionally and personally with her for several years. I apologized to her for ANYTHING that I may have done, thanked her for EVERYTHING she and my Dad did for me and I constantly told her how much I love her. I knew that someday she would be gone. But I had not idea it would be as early as it was and as sudden as it was.

I keep dreaming about her and my late, great Dad. I miss them SO much and my life has never been the same since they have left. When my Dad passed away, my Mom and I greatly supported each other and honored his memory. When my Mom passed away, there was great discord amongst me and my siblings. They are all married and I am the only one who has never been married and has no children. I could not buy them out of the family house and I had to move out and the house got sold. They have no idea what I have been through emotionally. They could NEVER understand. Thank God for my (and my Mom's) beautiful female Black Labrador Retriever. She loved my Mom and my Mom loved her too.

God bless you all.

I agree with Brett 100%.

Permalink Reply by Brett Bowman on April 7, 2018 at 12:32pm

Douglas, it's like we have the same story. And no matter how hard I tried to prepare myself, there was no way of avoiding the pain of my mom's death. I couldn't even provide myself with an easier transition. My mom just left too big of a hole to fill.

And there isn't a day that I do not look at her little dog and remember how much mom loved her, and how she used to baby talk her. That little dog has been such a blessing to me.

God Bless you, too.

Permalink Reply by DeeDee on April 9, 2018 at 7:11am

Good morning Douglas,

I am so sorry for your loss. God bless all of US who have lost someone. It is such a hard reality to deal with. I know they say that time helps, and I am sure that it does in time, but right now, since it is so recent. I struggle with it. I try hard to keep busy. I am sending out hugs to you and to Brett and everyone else who has lost a beloved loved one! God bless you all.

Permalink Reply by Douglas on May 7, 2018 at 5:01am

Good morning Deedee,

Thank you SO much for your heartfelt and understanding reply. Lately with so much going on in my life, I feel so isolated from my family and I feel so lonely. I find myself watching television news shows to keep me company and I almost feel as though those I am watching are friends; although I know they are not. 

My female Black Labrador Retriever, who was also my Mom's dog is really my best friend. She knows everything that happened and knows exactly how I feel. I thank God for her everyday and I take the best care of her. 

It will be 8 years in June that we lost my Mom. It just doesn't seem that long ago. Losing a parent is not just something that you "learn to live with." That loss is there forever. It is like the longer your parents are gone, the more that you realize exactly who and what you had. And still do have because they are actually always with us.

Permalink Reply by Brett Bowman on May 7, 2018 at 12:11pm

Douglass, while I can't say that I ever took my mom for granted, especially in those last couple of years, I still just dream about pulling into our driveway and seeing her car there, going inside the house and there would be mom watching tv, surrounded by two little dogs. I just wish I could go back in time to one of those days. Just to hug my mom and tell her that I love her. She would look at me like I was crazy. I think it's more for me than for her. I would tell my mom that I loved her so much in those last days. Sometimes she would get frustrated and say, "Brett, I know!!" She did know. She still knows. I just wish that I could keep on telling her face to face.

Douglass, it's not easy for me to give advice because I am not exactly healed myself, but I always tell myself to take baby steps until I can walk again. Exercise, volunteer. Find something that you feel passionate about. That's easy for me to say. It's not so easy to do, because there will be times when we will be alone, and all of this will come back, but I just feel that we somehow have to find a way to keep moving forwards. I pray that we can.

Permalink Reply by Douglas on May 7, 2018 at 4:54am

Thank you Brett. I am with you man. So beautiful that you are taking care of your Mom's dog and that you love that little dog and know that she has been a blessing to you. Your Mom is extremely proud of you and thankful to you! God bless you!

Permalink Reply by Anthony on July 25, 2018 at 10:07am

I am feeling the same way....LOST.  My Mom passed a week after her birthday.  Cancer.  I feel empty.

Permalink Reply by DeeDee on July 26, 2018 at 9:42am

Hi Anthony, 

I am so very sorry for your loss. The longer is goes by the harder it gets for me. Not having her here kills me. I miss her more and more everyday. It is so hard to get up and move on.............. 

Please know that you are NOT ALONE!! I am praying for all of US who have lost beloved ones! 

Hang in there. Your friend Dee-Dee 

Permalink Reply by Joe von Anjou on July 22, 2020 at 2:36pm

I understand you and everyone who commented.

My mother died last April from vascular dementia. I buried her only last Friday because of the pandemic.

It hurts more now than it did in April.

When my mother was diagnosed two years ago and change, the medical literature said she had six to nine more years of a life expectancy. I knew that her prognosis was unidirectional. But I expected four to seven more years.

Last November, my mother had a fall while "getting ready to go to work." (She had not worked outside the house in decades.) I called 911, got her to the ER, who sent her to orthopedics (she had steel prostheses inside her left arm from the accident that killed her better son.) The orthopedists said the prostheses had moved, but they were unwilling to operate. They sent her back to the ER. ER doctor asked me if I was comfortable with discharge home. I said I was not, not after my mother had injured herself "while getting ready to go to work."

My mother spent her last months in a hospital, then in a care home. Her physical and mental condition worsened. She stopped eating anything but Ensure. She often repeated the same thing for hours on end to no one in particular. She was still in the hospital on Christmas. She refused to eat the chocolate and cheese I brought, and instead, just shook the guardrail of her bed and repeated the same thing over and over.

When my mother died in April, it was a nurse from the care home who called me. The nurse was kind, but she told me that, because of the pandemic, they could not keep my mother's remains longer than the following day. I knew there was a funeral home near by. I looked up their number and got back to the nurse. Then, I called my mother's family.

I was shocked, but functional until a month after my mother died. By then, her remains had been cremated (funeral home was taking no chances because of the pandemic) and I was waiting for funerals and burials to be permitted once more. A nurse from the care home called me to tell me that I could pick up my mother's belongings. Then, that poor nurse broke down. I tried to be as professional as I could, telling the nurse that it was better for her to cry than to go through vicarious/secondary traumatisation, a major risk for health care workers.

I had, by that time, long felt that I was the reason my mother died, that if I had detected that there was something wrong with her sooner, there could have been a medical intervention that would have helped her. I also have education (and failures) in a couple of health care fields. This means, that, when my mother was diagnosed, I acted out of my professional prejudices and biases, which means preserve life above all else. Because of these professional prejudices and biases, my mother's last two years were devoid of quality of life, because I had little to no people skills.

People from my family tell me that they were happy I was there for my mother that my mother was "lucky" to have me. They say this because they want to be kind. But what they say is untrue. I failed my mother. If what they said was true, my mother would still be alive.

For years, every time I was in between deep sleep and waking up, I saw my brother's face. Now, when I am between deep sleep and waking up, I see the horror in my mother's eyes during the last two years and change, the horror of knowing something was wrong but not being able to speak it. It is like a kick to the stomach.

It is like a kick to the stomach. It is also karma and justice. It is the price I have to pay for failing my mother and my brother.

I keep saying, over and over again, "I love you Mom. I will always love you. As long as my memory is intact, I will always love you. I am so sorry that I failed you."

Permalink Reply by Brett Bowman on July 22, 2020 at 4:56pm

Joe, I gave my mom the best care that I possibly could. But I still failed her in so many ways. Man, I can remember when my mom would only drink Ensure. It was hard to see because I knew that she was shutting down little by little. I could detail all of the ways that I believe I had failed her, but there is no use. Mom is gone, and I know that guilt is the hardest part of grief.

My mom suffered longer than she should have because I wanted her to live longer, but there were also times when I wasn't as attentive as I should have been. She would tell me in a roundabout way that she wasn't doing well, and I would just whistle past the graveyard. Being a caretaker is so hard because there are times when fight or flight kicks in and we do not make the best decisions because we just want everything to go back to the way it was.

All stories are different but the guilt is prevalent in each story. I wish that you would forgive yourself, but I know that is something that you will have to deal with in your own time.

I'm pulling for you my friend. I know what it feels like. I was there.

Permalink Reply by Joe von Anjou on July 23, 2020 at 2:43pm

Thank you, Brett.

I wanted to preserve my mother's life as long as I could. The medical literature said her life expectancy was six to nine years post diagnosis. I tried what I could. I studied and failed out of a couple of health-related fields, so my professional bias was to put her life first, as opposed to tending to her quality of life.

Thank you for the kind words.

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