Paging through this blog, I found the draft of the post I started about my mom's death, in October of 2021.
Since that time, two close friends from our temple family died- one expected (RG, octogenarian), the other a shock (mid 60s).
My dad's brother-in-law died in April 2023.
My aunt died in April 2023.
Ken died in October of 2023.
A year before my mom's death, my dad had a stroke. His recovery was amazing: no cognitive loss, no speech loss. He wasn't able to drive anymore- his navigational sense was gone. In the years after his stroke, he has gradually lost strength and mobility.
At this moment, my dad is not doing well; he has pulmonary fibrosis. This will be what ends his life, almost certainly: in months or maybe a year or two.
Another friend has been diagnosed with an invasive breast cancer.
There is war in Europe, war in the Mideast.
We have not recovered from the pandemic.
The recovery efforts from Hurricane Helene are ongoing- or suspended in some areas, as Hurricane Milton approaches.
The 2020s have not been kind thus far; I pray that personally and globally we are able to mourn, let go, and find some positive paths forward.
There has been joy, too; I am hoping to visit joyful memories and plans soon. Today, though, I found this post.
My mother died on Monday, October 4, 2021. She died on the 11th anniversary of my daughter's miraculous survival of a terrifying accident.
Death is both expected and unexpected. My mom had been in declining health for some time. Yet she had rallied so many times from so many close calls that we almost expected another recovery. She had breast cancer in 2005. A heart attack, complicated by an allergic reaction and renal failure, in 2010. She was in the hospital every other month in 2011 with spinal surgeries, pulmonary embolism, pneumonia. She had a partial hip replacement.
The Covid pandemic was hard on everyone; my mom had to deal with radiation and chemo treatment for lung cancer in the summer of 2021.
Every illness and its treatment, every surgery and recovery, was harder than the last. There were so many losses. Mom lost her ability to drive. She lost mobility. She lost so much agency- she lived sometimes with me, sometimes with my sister.
She was bitter, often, and angry at the cards she'd been dealt.
I can't really blame her; how could I? Her losses were undeniable.
I'm trying to learn from my mom, learn from my dad, learn from my dad's wife. How do we move forward from these losses and find satisfaction in later life?
I compare my mom's aging with my dad's aging. Until my dad had his stroke, he and his wife DE were active- physically, socially. They had friends and outings and made regular trips to the library.
It was different with my mom. Once she stopped driving, and even more when she moved out of My mom didn't want to go anywhere. She didn't want to see anyone- her social circle grew smaller and smaller.
She just wanted me, or my sister, to hang out with her, or take her places. Not my brother as much- she didn't want to "impose" on him.
She was angry at her failing body. She was saying "NO" to any suggestion that might make life more enjoyable. Join a book club! Go to senior center for lunch! Pick up a hobby! Visit a friend!
No, no, no.
Partly it was vanity. She didn't want anyone seeing her "like this." She would refuse to use her walker or cane going in to the doctor's office, using my arm instead.
Until she had to use a wheelchair.
My mom was angry and bitter and, in my view, didn't take advantage of the opportunities she did have. She had friends, she was close to a senior center and could make more friends!
I try not to judge. I don't know what her pain level was, or how much she worried about falling, getting bumped by kids or others in crowded spaces.
I do think about what *I* would want for myself in that situation. I try to see what the difference is between my mom and my dad.
Until this past year, my dad was positive and kept as active as he could, post stroke. Even now, with his mobility severely compromised, he doesn't complain much. You can see on his face his grief about his current limitations, his dependence on others; yet he expresses gratitude.
His hearing loss is profound, and it is harder now for him to stay engaged. He's ready to let go, I think. I am not ready for this; selfishly, I hope he will hang on for a while longer.
I'm writing around and around what I want to say.
One difference between my mom and dad is that my dad has an active and positive partner. His wife DE remains upbeat and keeps moving forward.
I had that, until Ken died.
I'm trying to learn from my parents, from the world.
I want to stay active. I want to do my part to heal the world, and heal myself. I want to be able to acknowledge that I can only do what I can do, and be at peace that I am doing my part, and my part is not all the healing that is needed, it is not all the work that is needed.
There are others to do the work, too; or not.
I can only do my part.
I am also trying to keep my social network strong. My mom's world shrank to needy dependence on her kids. I don't want that for my kids and I don't want that for myself.
Maybe I will return to this and make it more coherent. Maybe as we move into a new year- we are now in the first week of the Jewish New Year of 5785- I will find a clearer path forward.
For now, I will try to stay open to what new possibilities there are. I will try to say "Yes, and" to life, rather than "No, but."
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