My mother died this past weekend.

She had Parkinson's dementia. She was doing mostly OK a year ago last May. We had to move her to memory care in September because she started wandering off.

A little over a week ago she fell, twice in 2 days. We didn't recognize it at the time, but it was probably terminal agitation. She wouldn't stop moving.

3rd day, she was unresponsive & apneic. Memory care called 911 & sent her to the local ED. She never really left.

Sometime after her fall she was given Valium to help calm her agitation. It worked - but she probably aspirated at some point. And then it was all over. She started actively dying from that point.

Dad & I were with her when she died.

If you've never seen anyone actively dying, it's rough.

Fwiw I'm seeing folks' condolences - I don't know that I'll be able to respond to everyone, just know that I see you & appreciate it so very much. Thank you. <3 <3 <3

If I hadn't started following this gal I wouldn't have known what I was seeing & what mom was going through: https://www.youtube.com/@hospicenursejulie

I had a really conflicted relationship with my mom. A lot of grieving right now has to do with all the missed chances there were. & why she wasn't a better mom, & whether or not we could've done better than we did.

I was supposed to work this week. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH yeah of COURSE I thought I could work, I push myself all the time with shit like this.

It's part of the legacy mom left me: push through it, don't feel, get back to work or else you'll be fired, nobody cares about your feelings or your bullshit.

Like, y'know, your mom dying.

Fortunately, my wiser head prevailed. I requested bereavement leave & I'm off unitl at least partway thru next week.

It sucks tho'.

I don't have much else to say right now. Mom had a good end: it was relatively quick, she was on a lot of morphine, she passed quickly & quietly, with me and dad there with her.

I played her favorite opera & classical music at her bedside. She was listening to Beethoven's 6th when she died.

I told her everything I needed to tell her. I told her I loved her, which I do. I hate her too, but I didn't tell her that.

I told her that it was OK, she could go, she didn't have to hang on.

I told her there were people who loved her, & for all her mistakes & fuckups, which were big, she did OK too. I told her I understood how come she treated me the way she did: I told her I could see her pain & I understood it.

I told her I knew she did what she knew how to do. I told her I knew she loved me. I told her we'd miss her & we'd all be OK. I told her me & sibling would take care of dad for her.

I told her that if Grandpa J. or Auntie S. came for her, she could go with them. She actually saw her dad a lot in the past couple of weeks - she was getting ready to leave us & we didn't even know it.

I also told her that if *grandma* came for her, don't go with grandma, she's bad news - wait for grandpa or Auntie S.

She was uncomfortable on her last day so dad & I asked for them to suction out some fluid at the back of her throat & please increase her morphine dosage.

It wasn't a big dose to begin with. But she was so fragile, the increase probably was too much.

She literally took 5 breaths after the last dose of morphine, & was gone. Everything just... stopped.

No fuss, no agitation, no pain, nothing. She died quietly & peacefully.

I'm so fucking glad she isn't suffering anymore. She was so broken, what was good in her struggled so hard to be out in the world.

I wish I'd been able to know her at her ideal best. Like, if in some other universe she was a healthy person who worked on her shit & got a ton of therapy, that kind of "best".

She wasn't a good mother. She knew it at the end. In fact, when the Parkinson's took the awful parts of her, it uncovered some of the good parts. She was more kind & loving the last 6 months of her life than she had been since I was a very small child.

2 days before she died I had the hospital call in a priest. Mom was Catholic. We're not, but it was something that we knew would've brought her comfort. He was a lovely young man - did an Anointing of the Sick & a Viaticum for her.

So as far as God is concerned, she was ready to go. All wrapped up, neat as a pin.

I'm a wreck. I guess that's normal.

I'm worried about my dad. They were married for something like 57 years. He's off getting a haircut today - doing the mundane things keeps him grounded, I think.