It is never good news when the phone rings in the wee hours of the morning piercing the subconscious, wringing the soul in preparation for the changes to follow.
“I’ve got bad news.”
My husband’s mother has been failing in health over the past years. A little over a year ago, we moved her into a full-care, assisted living arrangement. From there, the decline has been like a free-fall.
Each visit, each phone call brought us closer and closer to the inevitable.
“At least, in the end, she knew who we were.”
Memory is a funny thing. When it fails you, it can keep you in a grand, make-believe world where life is happy and good. Her reality may have been a fantasy, but at least in her mind, she was happy and content.
“If she’d known she was in the state she was in, she’d have wanted to pass years ago.”
Over the years, I prayed for her comfort and I prayed for her to pass quietly in her sleep. For several years, she had let go of her role as a mother. A child-like replica stood in her place.
We will miss you, Mom. We already have.