On the dresser in my mother's room, sitting upright on a small stand, is a photo plate of my parents standing beside each other, his arm around her, both of them with big staged grins. They are colorful tourists and my father the hat-wearer had chosen a black and red beret for that particular day. Along the rim of the plate, beneath their photo are the words, Hong Kong in black. They had travelled there on business and the photo and plate were a gesture from their hosts. It is such a touristy thing, so unusual for them to pose for a photo like that, that I have become very fond of this gimmicky thing they succumbed to in their travels together, since they both would have gladly suffered before refusing their host the gesture.
My father kept the plate on his nightstand, beside the alarm clock and the books.
In September, I packed it for mom when we moved her into the assisted living center.
Yesterday I packed it again when we moved her to the Skilled Nursing Floor and arranged for Hospice care there. I put it near the empty vase.
Last night, I made a note, Get Mom flowers. I like to keep the vase on her dresser filled with fresh flowers.
Later last night, my brother called. Mom's Oxygen Saturation Level was dangerously low and she was being taken to the hospital
This morning I sat beside her. She is fragile, tiny, and unresponsive. She has tubes and wires connected between her and machines with tell-tale beeps and whirs giving us information on her body.
About an hour ago, my brother called to tell me that the Doctors have discovered some other issues, and that they advise us to let nature take its course.
I'm sitting here right now at the office, having come here to clear up some work so that I can take some time off, and what I'm thinking about is that plate and their smiling faces. And I picture my father wanting to put his arm around her again, and I picture her wanting to be there inside the safe and familiar comfort of his arms. They could smile again.
7 comments:
I have been reading your blog for a couple of months now and I am saddened to read of your moms declining health. Losing a parent is never easy. May God bless you and keep you in the coming days. Teri
'letting nature take its course' is a loving gesture from a health care professional. just like your attention and care to your mother in her hours of need. i am sure that you were an inspiration to her to hang on, and a great comfort to her as she was faced with letting go. we need more of all of the above in the world.
Oh, Alison, I remember hearing the doctors speak similar words of advice in regard to my own mother, and I know how heavy your heart must be at this moment. I hope the knowledge of all you've done to make this last phase of her life richer and more comfortable will give you some comfort now. Hugs to you, Carl and the others.
If it brings you any consolation, they will embrace again one day, and smile forever. I know that is true. But for right now, you have the strength of many surrounding you. I wish you strength Alison, I wish you peace.
Alison, my heart is heavy for you, but yes - your dad will be waiting there for her (probably with those red suspenders on that I remember so well and a great big bear hug). My mother was also in hospice, and those people are absolute angels. I know it's hard but just know I'm beside you and wishing you peace.
Alison I am so sorry...your words bring back my memories of sitting with my own mother and holding her hand as she left. I can't help but cry for you and my nineteen year old self as well. My warmest thoughts to you and strength for the times ahead. Carmon
im sure he's waiting for her now, with intentions of doing just that. peace to you, sister.
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