Family relationships have always been important to me. So, I was over the moon when I developed closer relationships with three people; my beloved Uncles and mother. It was, as it turned out, close to the end of all their lives that I would get to know them in deeper and more emotionally intimate ways.
Facing mortality does that: opens the window for vulnerability and intimacy to enter the space that held boundaries out of old habits, loyalties, unforgiven hurts, role playing, old alliances, and just being a bumbling human. But I knew better. Or, I should have known better. I’ve sat at the deathbed of countless patients and friends, counting their breaths, waiting for the inevitable last exhale.
We all think we have more time, lots more laughs, coffee dates, lunches, dinner parties, birthday and holiday meals…until we don’t.
So I felt robbed when my Uncles died, after finally developing routines of lunches, phone calls, and then, accompanying them to their doctor’s appointments, overseeing their health care, and helping them stay safe and comfortable as they transitioned into hospice care.
And then my mom. She was a tough cookie. It was often hard to find a soft spot to curl up in a conversation without dodging caustic comments—until she was informed she had Cancer. And everything changed. Her harsh words turned soft. Her vulnerability peeped out from under that crusty hard shell, and I was there, waiting to meet her half way. I entered the space that Cancer made and we became the fast friends that I had created in my imagination, never thinking we would get there. But we did. Facing mortality made the impossible possible. I swam in the warm river of our embraces, raucous laughter, and we took turns bursting into fits of ugly cries. And then she died.
I felt robbed, and then grateful, and now I help other families bridge gaps between doctors, disease, healthcare, family snafus, and along the way offer ways to feel safe, heard, and loved. This is a picture of little mom. I dressed her up, applied her makeup, did her hair and snapped this pic, one week before she took her last breath.
They say there is always a lesson in adversity. My lessons were plenty. Live in each moment, make love the guiding post, don’t put things off like conversations, experiences, phone calls, and always end each conversation with “I love you”.
And loss changes us. Grief is not a journey towards returning to normal, rather, grief is an opportunity to grow into the new you that pain has carved. It is because of losing so many loved ones in a short three years, that I started Age At Home Service, an agency to help other seniors transition through health issues, disease processes, advocate for them, become the communication liaison between doctor, senior, family, and specialists. And most of all, meet the wishes of the senior and their family to have safe, pain free, loving transitions into the next phase of their lives.