This isn’t the type of post you have come to expect from me but it’s the only thing I can bring myself to write.

My mother, the absolute center of my life, is dying. I am her caregiver.

Her congestive heart failure has finally reached the final stage and she is not going to get better. In fact it feels like she is sinking a little further every day.

A week ago the swelling in her legs and feet became so severe that she collapsed on the back steps when we tried to leave the house to go for a drive.  I ran from neighbor to neighbor and was ready to call the police when a neighbor finally came running to help.

Since then she has been forced to use her wheelchair to get from place to place.  We don’t have a ramp yet so that means she’s stuck in the house – not a pleasant thing when you’re a woman who prizes independence above all.

When they told me she was dying I thought, “well you just don’t know my mom.  She isn’t going to die now – she’ll be 93 in August and we’re all planning on her getting to one hundred.”

My mom did what she always does.  She opened her mouth and spoke her truth – she told them all to just shut up.  She wasn’t interested in talking about dying, she wanted to talk about living.  If they wanted to talk about living they could stay, otherwise she wished they would just leave.  It was a definite room clearer.

Yesterday mom told me that she sees her mother and has been seeing her for several days.  My grandmother doesn’t say anything, she’s just there.  Mom thinks she sees other people too but the go so quickly she can’t identify anyone.

I guess it’s not surprising that my grandmother would want to watch over her daughter and to comfort her.  I hope she’s loving me too and that she’s pleased with the care I’m giving her baby.