Just... if you got people in your life you care about, do what you can to say whatever it is you need to say to them. Even if it's "fuck off you asshole".

Mom's sibling visited the morning she died, so that was good. Perfect timing.

Anyway. We'll be OK. I'll be OK. Sibling will be OK. It'll all be OK.

I mean... none of us are getting out of this alive, right?

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.

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.

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.

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.

@Notokay Peace, and long life. <3

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".

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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

It sucks tho'.

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.