Judy Cobb - December 14, 1927 ~ June 30, 2017
One year...an entire 365 days have previously gone by...VANISHED without my Mom, Judy, ringing me in Australia and sharing something usually very funny. Still I shed tears, engage in conversations with her, complain, whinge and whine, murmur and whisper, knowing that Mom is listening. I truly miss her. Because I am old enough to understand life's cycle OR life's circle you think that I would be handling it a bit better...huh? I'm not. It IS what it IS. It almost feels as though Mom is a bird perched at all times on my right shoulder ~ hanging on for the laughs OR hanging around just for the heck of it. And the dreams...they come like torrential rains, but I welcome them.
Love is real. Grief is raw.
WARNING. You may want to step away now; this is a short story - not a post. This is a tribute to my Mother. This post is about my Mom's final days. I have never witnessed a person dying, much more...a person whom I love and adore with every fiber in my body.
Personally, at least for me, having been in my Mother's life for her last remaining years, I remain under the impression that a death should be as important and as celebrated as a birth. The dying person should receive the respect, love, tenderness, compassion, empathy, sympathy, and die in an atmosphere surrounded by pure joy ~ it's really simple. Try and make the last weeks, days, hours as beautiful as you possibly can IF it is in your power. Do the people you truly love deserve anything less?
Many professional support staff will tell you technically and medically what is about to unfold before you. Take the advice you feel comfortable with...but, in the end...do what your instincts are telling you to do. You know your loved one best - everyone means well, or, perhaps most of them do, but DO in your heart of hearts what you think you should be doing in order to make your Mom or your Dad's last moments sweet and peaceful.
So...this was another extreme FIRST for me and it was one of the hardest FIRSTS I shall ever handle - scared, sad beyond words, but the happiest daughter in the world to be with my Mom as she took her final bow. I made a decision to share these intimate days with you because I think of them as a fragile and tender gift. The words and moments I believe to be most sacred shall live in my head and remain in my heart. But, this post is to let you know IF you are perhaps as scared as I was of the last moments, try not to be frightened ~ try to savour every, single precious second.
This is our story.
My wonderful, hard-working daughter (looking very tired) and my fab grand-daughter picked me up at the airport and we made the long trip back to Bogart, Georgia.
December, 2013 a decision was made that I would return to America to look after my Mother, hopeful that my husband would join me in a few months. Mom's care became extensive and we went through numerous changes (and locations) together. Three years passed and my husband, Marcus, was still unable to meet me due to immigration issues. Marcus and I were only able to meet in Europe once a year for our wedding anniversary. My Mother was hurt because she wanted desperately to see her son-in-law again. Mom referred to Marcus as S.I.N. ~ her right, she would protest!
December of 2016, I returned to my husband's arms in his birthplace of England. We had been through an unwanted separation as I am my Mother's only surviving child and she needed immediate help. My brilliant daughter stepped up and volunteered to look after her Granny in Georgia. This was a massive move and Mom left her birthplace of Memphis, Tennessee kicking and screaming, but knowing full well it was either Georgia or a long-term nursing home. For almost 6 months my husband and I were in bliss, enjoying a peaceful and calm existence after 3 years apart with the understanding that I would receive an urgent phone call from the States.
I adore her. My Mother's name is Marion Kathleen Judy Cobb. She is my hero.
Throughout my childhood Mother had stated her desires clearly so that everyone understood that she never wanted to be placed in a nursing home AND she wanted to die in her sleep. I was not certain how I was supposed to help out with the second part of her wish.
My husband and I with my loyal, loving daughter moved mountains to respect and honour my Mom's request. Nothing about this process was easy...but, as we all know anything worth doing can be difficult.
Still, I have never watched a loved one die.
The next morning, I softly entered the room (not sure why because Mom couldn't hear a jackhammer by this time...!) My daughter was first by my Mom's bedside, my grand-daughter in the middle, and I was pulling up the rear. Mother's gorgeous, twinkling blue eyes opened unexpectedly wide, both of her arms raised to grab me and she said, 'Oh, Pat, is that you? You are here? You're here. Hold me.' I SHALL NEVER FORGET THIS IMAGE; it is burned in my memory. Mom was trying desperately to lift herself up to reach me and my grand-daughter was laughing and squealing and trying to help her and all I could think was 'DON'T COUGH ON HER.' I wanted to cover her face in kisses and was so terribly afraid to do so.
I am an idiot.
More than anything I regret not cradling her in my arms. My damned, stupid decision will haunt me for the rest of MY days. Mom was dying and I held back my deep love and affection. My grand-daughter was in shock when she witnessed my Mom trying to reach for me because...now...Mom did not move very much at all.
No matter how much I was previously told, I was not prepared for what I saw. If my Mother weighed 60 pounds that would be an exaggeration. There was a Holocaust victim in bed. That is the only image I have seen prior to this moment that remotely matched my Mother's tiny, skeletal frame. It was everything I could do to not make a sound of horror and shock, but to simply respond to her eyes and smile. Every second from that moment forward I held on to my Mom's hands as much and as long as I could.
Mom: I think the college is close enough for me to walk. I won't have to worry about a car and I can save gas money. I have always wanted to draw and paint more and now is the time.
(My Mother has been completely and utterly bed-ridden for 6 months now...)
Me: Mom, I think that's a great idea. You are the reason why Constance was so talented.
Mom: Call the college.
Me: Yes, of course. (Mom's entire life she wanted to be an English Lit teacher, but she said that once she had her family she never looked back - oh, YES, she did. Voracious reader - and THAT particular profession would have suited her like a glove.)
Mom: What makes my feet hurt? Pat, why is everything hurting? Sighs. Mom says aloud, 'I don't know. I just don't know.'
Mom: Georgia is pretty, but I can't walk to see it.
Mom: Why couldn't Humphrey Bogart come in? (Mom always said my husband looks like Bogart due to his 'sad eyes', but she lives in Bogart and so I refer to it as 'Humphrey Bogart, Georgia!')
Me: Because he is dead.
Mom: Shocked and horrified look.
Mom: God must have been THE best gardener in the world. He made fruits and vegetables and that is all we need. Look how pretty they are. (My favourite quote.) There were no vegetables or fruit in front of her at this time.
Mom: What is all over your face?
Me: Mom, my face is broken out a bit. I must be a teenager!
Mom: No, you're an old buzzard.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?
Mom: Reinvest. Points to the ceiling. Continues to look up.
Me: Reinvest what, Mom?
Mom: It's right there. See it?
Mom: Go get your hair done.
Me: You told me you liked it.
Mom: You need to do something different.
Mom: I don't know if you'll be here for Christmas, but if would be the BEST Christmas ever because we will all be together.
Tears fill her eyes. They are overflowing. DAMN this death chapter. DAMN IT.
Mom: I love you.
Me: I love you more.
Mom: No, you loved your Daddy.
Me: I love YOU, Mom. Always have. Always will.
Mom: Did you get the telephone?
Mom goes back to her books and magazines, smiling. Lord, how she loves National Geographic.
Mom developed a large cough last night. You can imagine what is going through my head.
Mom: My chest is painful; it doesn't feel good when I breathe.
Panic. Sheer pain in my heart. I felt as if I stopped breathing.
Mom: 2 to 2. Mom holds up 2 fingers and repeats, 2 to 2. We have 2 more hours.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?
Mom: Look at the big bunny in the corner.
Okay. I am getting the hang of hallucinations. I am flowing with them and begin to think there may BE a bunny in the room.
Mom: You have a 'schniggers' in your nose. (Typed exactly the way my Mom pronounced it...)
Me: A what? Mom, what is a schniggers? (I grab a mirror quickly from my purse; nothing there.)
Mom: Yes , it is not very sexy.
Me: Hmmmmmmmmm. I will have to remember that one~!
I look at her. I take every inch of her face into my psyche - still so beautiful - still witty.
Mom: You look pretty in stripes. You look pretty in purple. You look pretty period.
Me: Mom, I love you.
Mom: I love you more.
I make the heart sign with my 2 hands and my Mother nods her head, smiles, and says, 'Ayahhh.'
Mom: I don't want to go to sleep because I have had bad dreams for 5 years.
Mom keeps going...and I'm thinking: 5 years???
Mom: I don't want to go to sleep because we are going to have the BEST dinner.
Me: Who's cooking?
Mom: I'm not telling you.
Me: What are we having?
Mom: You can ask me all night long; I'm not telling you.
Mom: If that nurse touches me one more time inappropriately and hurts me, I'm screaming.
Me: Mom, what happened? TELL ME.
Mom: I'm tough. I'm no sissy, but enough is enough.
Mom: I know what she is going to do and I do not want her to do it and I am not going to allow it.
Me: Mom, I need to know what you are talking about. Please explain.
Mom: You're so beautiful.
Mom: I wish you had curly hair. No little girl should be born with straight hair.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?
(Laughing so hard - apparently, THIS is WHY my Mom insisted on rolling my hair each and every night before school. Ask ANY little girl if she likes to sit while her Mom rolls up her hair. Mmmmm-mmmm. NO, NO SHE DOES NOT.)
Mom: Turn off that jazz band.
Me: What jazz band? (Not the right reply...)
Mom: Stern look. Don't be silly. Let's go to sleep now. You know what to do.
In my mind I'm thinking, 'No, I really don't.'
Mom: That's right!
Her bony, fragile hands were folded across her chest; another big frown on her face. Why, oh WHY can't Mom look relaxed and peaceful? Her resting face looks devastatingly painful. I simply cannot stand to see this.
Each day I attempt to do something, say anything that might bring about a relaxed expression. I cannot make it happen.
Mom: Over the 100 years I have lived (not true ~ almost 90!) , I have learned a lot of crap, excuse me, I have learned a lot of business.
Me: Yes, yes you have, Mom, and you have taught me a great deal.
Mom: Has Summer Daye (my grand-daughter) kissed her boyfriend?
Me: No.
Mom: I wouldn't be so sure about that and 'cuts her eyes' at me.
Mom: Front row. I want the front row.
Me: Where? Where is the front row?
Mom: Let's stop all this chit-chat. We need some sleep.
I am rubbing my Mom's head. I want to see a peaceful, pleasant face. I love looking at my Mother's face. Now, still today, she looks incredibly beautiful to me. Gives me chills.
Mom: I want someone, NO, I want YOU to explain in easy to understand language just what it is you are doing.
Me: I am rubbing your head and stroking your hair.
Mom: You smartass.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?
Never have I heard my Mom say that word before. Never.
Mom: I don't want you to go away. (Tears flowing out of the sides of both of her eyes...)
Me: I'm not going anywhere.
Mom: What does that say on the ceiling?
Mom: Who painted the walls yellow? Why on earth did you let them DO that?
Mom fell asleep. 3 hours and 17 minutes later, her glorious blue eyes popped open and she smiled at me.
My Mother touching my face, brushing the hair out of my eyes, kissing my hands were the sweetest moments. It took all of my being to swallow my tears - a river went down my throat and my belly swelled with pain.
Mom's eyes are piercing when they 'see' love - I actually feel what she is feeling. I have never been more proud to be her daughter. She is fighting, coveting life, trying to squeeze as many conversations in until her last breath.
My Mother - the Fighter.
My Mother - quick-witted, sharp tongued, judgmental, but fiercely loyal.
My entire life my mantra was: IF I could grow up and become half the woman my Mother is, I'll be doing great. I am still working on it.
Mom: I want to tell you that Paw-Paw (her Father) would be so amazed and proud of his girls; Constance, you, Kelley, and Summer Daye, but, oh, how he waited for Cory!
Enormous, sweet smile spread across her face and Mom patted my hands.
Sweet appears to be my favourite adjective. But, if anyone could see the light in her eyes when she talks - one would be forced to agree.
I learned my Mother wants her sheets and blanket creased perfectly on her bed.
I learned my Mother sill has a wicked sense of humour.
I learned, too, that I am a damned good whistler - upon my dying Mother's request. No, do no ask why, you will not get the answer you want.
Me: Mom, you have always preferred the company of men, haven't you?
Mom: No, I like some women; not many.
Mom: There are 2 men I would love to wear out and I mean WEAR OUT.
Me: Who, Mom? TELL ME.
Mom does not share any secrets. Closed her eyes and grinned like a Cheshire cat.
Mom: Oh, I forgot to put it on. (Rolls up sleeve on her left arm.)
Me: What did you forget?
Mom: You know. I don't.
Gheeeeez-Louuuuuuuuise. No, I don't.
Mom: 4 peaches? Oh, My. Thank you. This means I can put 2 in my top. Where are my boobs? What happened to them, Pat?
We both write 'Hotel Peabody' in shorthand. I call out a word. Mom calls out another. Mother's cursive handwriting and her penmanship were always works or art. People were in awe when they received letters or cards. True. And, Mom is lightning fast at shorthand, but I am faster now. Hers is prettier. Contest continues for 45 minutes.
Mom; I never knew you were that fast.
Me: As I child I loved watching you take shorthand and your work inspired me to learn. I loved it!
Mom: This was so much fun! We will have to do it again.
A fine evening. My heart is breaking because I know, I simply know...that I will never have another night like this with her.
Next day ~ UNFORGETTABLE.
From 3:00pm until 5:15pm I was certain my Mother was dying.
~Hallucinations all day
~Sounded as if she had a stroke
~Sentences made no sense whatsoever
~Could not make out single words
~Could only answer 'Ayahh'
~Crying; lots of crying
~Agitated, anxious
Mom: Do you realize when you die everything is lost?
Mom: Pat, do you know HOW much I loved Cory? (My son...)
Me: Mom, are you afraid of dying?
Mom: No, I'm only afraid of going back to school !
Told Mom I loved her throughout the entire day, held her hands. I do not want to let her go. I am supposed to tell Mom (because I have been instructed...), 'It's okay - you can go.' I cannot get the words out. The words will not come out of my mouth.
Mom: Put your black earrings on; those look tacky.
Mom: Wear my black, flat shoes and get my purple earrings. (My Mom does not own a pair of purple earrings.)
Mom: Maybe the wedding was yesterday. I don't know anymore, but go get your make-up on now.
Mom: No, it wasn't yesterday. I don't want them seeing my like this. I look like an old bitch. (I swear to you my Mother does not say this word. I do. She does not.)
Mom: Find my purple box and my purple earrings will be in there.
(I am flying around the room now because I want her happy.)
Mom never wore purple in her life. Mom begins pointing to the ceiling and her eyes are going to the left and to the right and she is smiling and gasping in awe and is completely captivated by what she sees...
Mom: Where am I?
Mom: Who brought me?
Mom: Don't miss me. You're so pretty.
I cannot keep up with these rapid fire questions coming towards me like a machine gun, plus Mom wants me to explain the hallucinations to her AND draw them. I try.
Then, Mom looks up at me...
Mom: I've been sleeping a lot today, haven't I?
I'm thinking: 'No you've been hallucinating and speaking in a foreign language , but you have most absolutely not been sleeping.' I do think there were times when she was sleeping with her eyes open. Very. Strange.
Mom holds her fingers up in front of my face and forms the number 5, then the number 2, then the number 4.
Mom: There is not enough time left.
I cry. I bawl in front of her. I place my head on the side rail of her bed and I lose it. Today we ran a marathon together. No stopping. It all comes out. I am shaking. I am snotty. I am a crumpled mess. I love my Mother with every fiber in my body and I do not want her to leave me. Oh God, how am I supposed to let her go? Mom rubs my head.
Mom: Please don't miss me. You have Marcus.
Well, Damn. I am a wreck and I have to leave the room in order to try to get myself together.
I enter room again. Adrenalin has kicked in.
Mom: Why don't we go out and have a sunbath?
Me: That's a great idea!
Mom: Well, I had better not. I would scare the people.
Mom: WHO ate my artichokes? I LOVE artichokes. Did you eat them? Damn it.
I try to respond.
Mom: (Talking over me...) I really like them. Where are they? I do not know what goes on in the room next to me.
Mom let's out a big 'WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!' Points to the ceiling and lets a big shout out again! Finger circles the air. Eyes follow. 'WHOA!' Another 'WHOA!' Smiling from ear to ear. Happy Hallucinations ~ Hallelujah.
I can't keep my eyes off of her face. I want to SEE what my Mother is SEEING.
Me: Mom, a male nurse is coming over soon to check your vitals.
Mom: (Immediate response.) Good God. A male nurse? I might die right this minute. Get my purse. Get my lipstick. He can't see me like this.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?
REALLY? I mean, REALLY?????????????
Nurse comes over. He has visited Mom before and she adores him. (Well, HE is a MALE, isn't HE?) Flirts her butt off with him. He is from Africa and his voice sounds like music. He is a charmer and a kind and gentle man.
Mom: Well, Hello. I remember you.
Nurse: Hello, Ms. Cobb. How are you doing? (HUGE SMILE!)
Mom: You have the prettiest smile. You're so much fun. Why did you cut your hair like that?
Nurse: Why, you don't like my hair?
Mom: No, not a bit, but I like you.
Nurse: Ms. Cobb, you always make me laugh. He goes on about his business.
Mom does not hold back with anyone. For months now she has said exactly what is in her head. Shocking!
Nurse asks me to walk him out. He tells me that my Mother's cough is the 'death rattle'. I did not give her that cough. And, there was nothing I could do to make her cough go away. He said Mom was near death's door. His eyes say 'Sorry' and he touches my arm. He tells me that out of all of his patients my Mom makes his day whenever he visits her. I cry. Again.
Mom: What is out that door? What is down that hall? If I walk through that door where will I go?
Mom is pointing to her bedroom door. I do not know how to answer.
Me: Heaven.
Mom: Hmmmmmmmmmmm ~ Ayahh. Do you think I will see the people I love?
Me: Yes. Yes, Mom I do.
Mom: Well, alright then.
Mother's chest is rapidly rising and falling. This goes on for about 50 minutes and is happening each day now. I sleep on comforters on the floor of her bedroom. I feel best when I can see the silhouette of her chest rising and falling.
I am thankful that I've had 5 great days with her. GLORIOUS. I made Mom's favourite foods and watched her enjoy them tremendously. Mom's carers were in shock because previously she had been eating like a bird. We were in the rally zone. But, I was told Mom's body was not absorbing any of the nutrients. She was eating only for enjoyment. Her body had already broken down.
Mom: (Losing her voice; the voice I love; speaking in a whisper...) Pat, I would have been a different person if my Mother had lived. (My Grandmother was killed when my Mom was only 8 years old.)
Mom: I only wanted a stable life. I know what people must have thought of me and it embarrasses me.
Mom: I did not want to lose contact with the people I love. I love Reed's children; especially their son. I did not mean to lose touch.
Me: Mom, it's okay. Life gets in the way; they know how much you care.
Mom: No, I want to get my story straight. I worked hard all my life and there is something to be said for that. I loved my work and the people I worked with at the Chamber, well, most of them.
I am brushing my Mother's hair time and time and time again.
Mom seems agitated. I get her a glass of water.
Mom: There is nothing better than fresh, cold water. Nothing. HUGE GRIN!
Mom: Why isn't Constance here? Why isn't she with me? I haven't seen her.
Mom: I can see a figure of a woman, but she is not from my family.
Mom: Do you like to be fancy? Do you enjoy getting glamorous?
Me: Sometimes, but, no, not really.
Mom: Me either. I like a nice, tailored suit with heels, but not too high.
Mom: I'm not a brave soul.
Me: Me either; I must have gotten that from you.
Mom: 'Fraid so.
Mom: Pat, I don't want anymore oxygen.
Me: Yes, Mom. You need it.
Mom: No, you go to bed. I'll handle it. Did we eat today?
Me: Yes, fresh peaches, cream cheese with olives on the crackers you love.
Mom: So, we're not going to eat again until Wednesday?
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...(My sweet Mom must be hungry!)
Me: Mother, we can eat any time you like.
Mom: Wednesday or Saturday will be fine.
Mom: Constance has gone away. The numbers that were above her head have disappeared. Why? (Mom points up into air.)
I cannot answer.
Mom: I cant touch my face. I can't touch my head. I can't touch anything; not that I really want to.
?????
Mom: Points to ceiling. WHO are they, Pat?
Me: I think they are our relatives; family.
Mom: Oh, I don't know about that. (Looks really scared and I don't like it...)
Mom: Your hair looks black down the middle.
Me: I had it done only 2 weeks ago.
Mom: Go get a mirror. Look in the light. I don't tell stories. You need a new girl.
See? Mom doesn't miss much even in the middle of hallucinations...
Mom: I have trouble with marriage.
Mom: Did you walk here? I've been walking all night.
Mom: Are you going to work?
Me: No, Mom. I'm here with you.
Mom: Goody for you! Goody for me! (I have not heard my Mom say 'Goody' prior to this moment - or if she ever did; I do not remember!)
Mom: I wish I had enough money where I didn't have to worry about it.
Me: Mom, you are fine.
Mom: Do I have a white one? Looks up - is that water running down? Tell those boys to STOP writing on the walls.
Questions are being asked in a rapid fire manner again.
Mom: Are you going to kill me? I don't hear any noise. Could you hide me in the office? Please? Please.
Mom: Where is the money?
Me: In the bank. (Energy in the room is uneasy and I want to calm her.)
Mom: Stacks of money in that office where we were. No one has thrown it away.
Mom: Did you stay up after you got home?
Me: Mom, I never left you. I've been here.
Mom: Did you go to sleep?
Me: Yes.
Mom: I did, too. I needed it; didn't you? Smiles and smiles and shimmies her shoulders.
Mom: I remember when I used to wear beautiful clothes.
Me: Mom, you always looked like a million dollars when you went to work. I remember vividly.
Mom: You know better than that...
Mom: Do you ever wish you could see someone again? Would you like to see Michael?
Me: Yes, Mom, of course.
Mom: I miss ole' Betty Boop. She was a nice person. (Betty was Mom's former carer in her home town of Memphis!)
Mom: Get a scarf for my hair, please. No, I don't want a scarf. I don't care. But, I do need pants - pretty ones.
I am an extremely proud and grateful daughter. I see my Mom's essence. I see her past running rapidly through her mind. Mother wants to make sure she says everything she wants to say to me. Thankfulness ~ an enormous abundance is what is filling my heart and every part of my body and soul; tears flowing. My head is swimming. The air in the room feels 'urgent'; I don't know how else to describe it.
You want to hold on to those whom you love forever even when you know that is not an option.
This morning there is no torment in her face. It has taken us eleven (11) days to get to this point.
Mom: Every part of my body hurts. Am I having a baby? Shaking, tears, looks as if she is in a good deal of pain...
I assure Mom she is not having a baby!!! I run and get some new meds.
Mom: I'm probably driving you crazy. (Smiles and laughs!)
Me: No, Mom. I love you.
Mom: You used to drive me crazy.
WHAAAAAAAT? Here we go again.
Mom: I keep thinking I'll get to see Glenda and Betty Boop. Then, I remember they live in another state; MY state. (Dear God.)
Clarity.
We have said that we love each other so many times that I feel content. I know Mom knows. Mom knows I know. This is THE most important issue to me. Mom is aware that I am with her in her last pages of her last chapter. Many moments I am scared, really frightened, then I have to snap out of it because she needs me.
Mom: Do I have a white jacket?
Me: Yes, with a black flower.
Mom: Ayahh. I thought I did. ('Ayahh' is not how Mother normally speaks. When she attempts to say 'Yes' - this is when Mom sounds as if she's had a stroke.)
Mom: Jackass did not pay me the amount I wanted.
I have NO CLUE.
Mom: Are you sure I'm not having a baby?
This makes me sad because now Mom looks like she's in a lot of pain again.
Me: Mom, does your chest hurt?
Mom: No, it doesn't hurt, but it is filled with phlegm and water.
Perfectly understood. Appropriate response.
Rib cage quickly rising and falling. Mom's brow appears with that concerned look. She is fretting. I hate this. Voice still a whisper. Light leaving her beautiful corn-flower blue eyes.
Mom: Thank God my friend's Mother doesn't know her daughter is dying of cancer. Thank the Lord. I mean that is truly a blessing. She is such a dear, sweet woman. Why can't I be dying of cancer instead, Pat?
Me: Mom, please try to relax. Close your eyes and gently breathe.
I hold her hands and tell her I'm right by her side.
Mom: I have black pants, a white top and low heels. I feel classy, sporty, and jazzy when I wear them together! (Her shoulders start to shimmy from side to side - it is really precious to watch because I'm witnessing pure happiness.)
Mom: I want my Mother.
This breaks my heart. I silently gasp. Mom will not look at me. I rub her hands, her hair, and kiss her forehead.
I slept on my Mom's floor again.
Mom: Pat, PLEASE get in the bed with me. (It's about 4:00am.)
I am scared that I will hurt her or tear her skin. She is so utterly tiny and fragile and vulnerable, but Mom is crying and insists. I quickly climb into bed with her.
Mom held on to my hands tightly - both of my hands cupped inside of hers. She kissed my fingers and told me that she did not want to leave me. We are both silently sobbing - HARD. The she tells me that she is OKAY.
Mom: Everything is okay.
Mother kept nodding her head saying, 'Finally' repeatedly. Both of her arms are shaking uncontrollably. I rub them as gently as I can. Her heart is literally pounding out of her chest and erratically, too. I force myself not to be frightened. I close my eyes and I simply hold on to her.
THIS day is the longest day in my life. It feels as if I've been taken to the mountain top and dropped right back down into the deep valley again - a few times over. We are on a roller coaster ride and I'm thinking it has to be far worse for my Mom than it is for me. How do I make it BETTER for her?
My daughter comes into my Mom's bedroom. I am sitting in my usual spot by Mom's bed and Kelley sits down on the other. Mom looks like an innocent child, plus she truly does look sad and scared. Kelley is always trying to make her Granny laugh and she told her how much she loved her and that she would see her later after work. Mom was holding my hand and holding Kelley's, too.
Mom: Oh, NO, you are not going to work, ARE YOU? Please, please Kelley don't go to work today. (Mom has never asked this of my daughter...)
Kelley: Bawling. Granny, I have to go, but I will see you later. Kelley looks at me; doesn't know what to do.
I slip my hand under Kelley's so at least Mom will still be holding 2 hands. Kelley practically runs out the door - crying uncontrollably. Kelley rings me on my mobile throughout the day stating that was the hardest thing she has ever had to do. I reassure her that she did the right thing.
Mom is whispering and her whispers become softer ~ little angel whispers.
Mom: (Whispering...and still smiling.) Who is that good-looking actor that I like so much? Is it Wishmar? Is it Swishmar? YOU know. Pat, YOU KNOW. Tell me what his name is. (Getting VERY frustrated with me.) I have no clue, but when Kelley rings next, I ask her who Mom is talking about. Kelley said to say, 'Shemar Moore'. I said his name to Mom and she gave me an instant THUMBS UP with a head shake and a twinkle in her eye.
Seriously???
Mom: That's it. He is the best looking man on tv. You, Kelley, and Summer Daye need to go to Hollywood and get his contract. The 3 of you could take really good care of him and get him in the movies.
(I am a huge Shemar Moore fan, but I never anticipated his name would be spoken on my Mother's death bed. The only tv I ever see her enjoy consistently is BBS or PBS. I shake my head in complete wonder.)
At night Mom coughs and continues to cough and it is not like any cough I've heard before. I have stepped out and Summer Daye reaches her Great-Grandmum before I get back to her room. Summer Daye keeps asking Granny if she's okay. Mom keeps coughing - terribly. Summer reaches for a cough drop and places it in my Mom's mouth. I panic. I yell at Summer because I think Mom is going to choke on the damn thing. I immediately feel bad for barking at her. My nerves are frayed. Summer was doing the only thing she knew to do to give her Granny some comfort. Mom looks up and thanks Summer and told her what a wonderful girl she was.
Mom: Where are my teeth?
Summer Daye: Giggling - Granny, you look SO cute without your teeth. Your face makes me smile so much.
Mom: (Hugely embarrassed...) I don't mean to have my teeth out, Summer. They fall out in the night and I can't find them. Please don't tease me or make me feel worse.
Summer Daye: No, I mean it. I really do. You look adorable and I love you.
Mom: I love you, too, and thank you for coming in to help me.
Telephone rings as it normally does early evenings. It is my husband and the moment we become engaged in conversation, my Mother slips her purse up to her chest, unzips it, pulls out the oxygen tube in her nose and tucks the tube into her purse looking from side to side to see if anyone's noticing. Now, that IS sly. I relay this to Marcus who roars on the other end of the phone. Unbelievable. Mom really thought she could get away with this.
We lock up the house; everyone is beyond tired. I think I might try to sleep in my bed for a couple of hours, but the moment I place my head on the pillow, I sit up, grab more pillows and head to Mom's room ~ pallets on the floor. I cannot NOT sleep in her room.
It feels as if every thirty minutes or so I am waking, looking up at Mom's bed so I can check on her. As long as I can see her chest rising, I'm okay. Sometime around 4:30am - 4:45am, I need to use the loo. I pop up, wearily, glance over at my Mother and touch her feet as I pass by. As I head back to my covers on the floor I think how peaceful she looks. I place my head on the pillow and I stare at her. But, it's very strange because I cannot actually see her face and I'm telling you this because I strained and I tried and I sat up, but I could not make out her facial features. Her face was in complete white-out. A halo - a shining white glow surrounded her face, blocking if from me. I could only make out my Mother's flowing grey-white hair. It upset me that I could not see her face. I stopped breathing. After about 3 - 4 minutes (felt longer), Mom's face came into focus and I began to breathe again, fell back onto my pallets and tried to sleep. I now believe this is when my sweet Mother died.
Early the next morning, I was staring at her. She was so still - too still. I didn't race. Slowly I got up and went to her side. Mom doesn't like to be cold. She was extremely cold and her skin did not feel or look like 'her skin'. Her chest was no longer rising. I bent over and kissed her forehead then covered her entire face in kisses while my tears flowed onto her. I turned and walked to her bedroom window and opened it in order to free my Mother's precious soul.
Posted with Extreme Love and Devotion,
Blanco of The Roaming Stevens
Note: From the moment I arrived my Mother's words were significantly important to me, but as the hours and days went on I kept saying to myself that I wanted to remember what she said - I needed to remember what made us laugh and cry, but there were so many conversations. I am right handed, but my right hand was usually hanging on to Mom's hand, so I made certain I had lots of little notebooks and heaps of pens and made myself take notes with my left hand. As scared as I may have been these were some of the most beautiful days and I have Judy's essence etched in my memory and her laughter and tears embedded in my soul.
Please excuse typos.
Wish I had my Mom's photo in her 20's; she was a stunner, but still...to the very end...those eyes.
Love is real. Grief is raw.
WARNING. You may want to step away now; this is a short story - not a post. This is a tribute to my Mother. This post is about my Mom's final days. I have never witnessed a person dying, much more...a person whom I love and adore with every fiber in my body.
Personally, at least for me, having been in my Mother's life for her last remaining years, I remain under the impression that a death should be as important and as celebrated as a birth. The dying person should receive the respect, love, tenderness, compassion, empathy, sympathy, and die in an atmosphere surrounded by pure joy ~ it's really simple. Try and make the last weeks, days, hours as beautiful as you possibly can IF it is in your power. Do the people you truly love deserve anything less?
Many professional support staff will tell you technically and medically what is about to unfold before you. Take the advice you feel comfortable with...but, in the end...do what your instincts are telling you to do. You know your loved one best - everyone means well, or, perhaps most of them do, but DO in your heart of hearts what you think you should be doing in order to make your Mom or your Dad's last moments sweet and peaceful.
So...this was another extreme FIRST for me and it was one of the hardest FIRSTS I shall ever handle - scared, sad beyond words, but the happiest daughter in the world to be with my Mom as she took her final bow. I made a decision to share these intimate days with you because I think of them as a fragile and tender gift. The words and moments I believe to be most sacred shall live in my head and remain in my heart. But, this post is to let you know IF you are perhaps as scared as I was of the last moments, try not to be frightened ~ try to savour every, single precious second.
This is our story.
My Mother's Eyes
It was late when I arrived into Atlanta. The flight from Gatwick has been pleasurable, but I was sick with a deep and irritating cough. My concern was that I would give my infection to my precious (almost 90) year old Mother. I am incredibly naïve.
My wonderful, hard-working daughter (looking very tired) and my fab grand-daughter picked me up at the airport and we made the long trip back to Bogart, Georgia.
My husband is British and Australian. I am American and Australian. We both have dual citizenships and live in South Australia. It is complicated. It is beautiful.
December, 2013 a decision was made that I would return to America to look after my Mother, hopeful that my husband would join me in a few months. Mom's care became extensive and we went through numerous changes (and locations) together. Three years passed and my husband, Marcus, was still unable to meet me due to immigration issues. Marcus and I were only able to meet in Europe once a year for our wedding anniversary. My Mother was hurt because she wanted desperately to see her son-in-law again. Mom referred to Marcus as S.I.N. ~ her right, she would protest!
December of 2016, I returned to my husband's arms in his birthplace of England. We had been through an unwanted separation as I am my Mother's only surviving child and she needed immediate help. My brilliant daughter stepped up and volunteered to look after her Granny in Georgia. This was a massive move and Mom left her birthplace of Memphis, Tennessee kicking and screaming, but knowing full well it was either Georgia or a long-term nursing home. For almost 6 months my husband and I were in bliss, enjoying a peaceful and calm existence after 3 years apart with the understanding that I would receive an urgent phone call from the States.
I adore her. My Mother's name is Marion Kathleen Judy Cobb. She is my hero.
Throughout my childhood Mother had stated her desires clearly so that everyone understood that she never wanted to be placed in a nursing home AND she wanted to die in her sleep. I was not certain how I was supposed to help out with the second part of her wish.
My husband and I with my loyal, loving daughter moved mountains to respect and honour my Mom's request. Nothing about this process was easy...but, as we all know anything worth doing can be difficult.
Never before have I been with or watched or helped a person die. I lost my only sibling; a talented, intelligent, and gifted older sister, Constance, in a horrifying car accident. My only son, Cory, (first male born in 4 generations)...opted out on life...2 months and 1 day after my sister was killed. I understand pain. I have felt the darkness and the depth of grief.
Still, I have never watched a loved one die.
By the time my daughter drove to our home, it was really late. This return trip to the States had been planned and my sweet Mother knew I would be returning to her 6 months after I departed. But, Mom was now in hospice and losing grip on the days. My daughter and I decided not to wake her and I would wait to greet Mom in the morning. The hospice team known as 'Team Judy' and my daughter had warned me that 'things' had changed and Mom was declining. Deep inside I did not want to hear or know; I was only happy to be near her again.
The next morning, I softly entered the room (not sure why because Mom couldn't hear a jackhammer by this time...!) My daughter was first by my Mom's bedside, my grand-daughter in the middle, and I was pulling up the rear. Mother's gorgeous, twinkling blue eyes opened unexpectedly wide, both of her arms raised to grab me and she said, 'Oh, Pat, is that you? You are here? You're here. Hold me.' I SHALL NEVER FORGET THIS IMAGE; it is burned in my memory. Mom was trying desperately to lift herself up to reach me and my grand-daughter was laughing and squealing and trying to help her and all I could think was 'DON'T COUGH ON HER.' I wanted to cover her face in kisses and was so terribly afraid to do so.
I am an idiot.
More than anything I regret not cradling her in my arms. My damned, stupid decision will haunt me for the rest of MY days. Mom was dying and I held back my deep love and affection. My grand-daughter was in shock when she witnessed my Mom trying to reach for me because...now...Mom did not move very much at all.
Screw germs - screw my stupid, idiotic childish thoughts. I wish I had known that whatever I had was NOT going to make my Mom worse - ever again.
No matter how much I was previously told, I was not prepared for what I saw. If my Mother weighed 60 pounds that would be an exaggeration. There was a Holocaust victim in bed. That is the only image I have seen prior to this moment that remotely matched my Mother's tiny, skeletal frame. It was everything I could do to not make a sound of horror and shock, but to simply respond to her eyes and smile. Every second from that moment forward I held on to my Mom's hands as much and as long as I could.
Mom: I think the college is close enough for me to walk. I won't have to worry about a car and I can save gas money. I have always wanted to draw and paint more and now is the time.
(My Mother has been completely and utterly bed-ridden for 6 months now...)
Me: Mom, I think that's a great idea. You are the reason why Constance was so talented.
Mom: Call the college.
Me: Yes, of course. (Mom's entire life she wanted to be an English Lit teacher, but she said that once she had her family she never looked back - oh, YES, she did. Voracious reader - and THAT particular profession would have suited her like a glove.)
Mom: What makes my feet hurt? Pat, why is everything hurting? Sighs. Mom says aloud, 'I don't know. I just don't know.'
Mom: Georgia is pretty, but I can't walk to see it.
Mom: Why couldn't Humphrey Bogart come in? (Mom always said my husband looks like Bogart due to his 'sad eyes', but she lives in Bogart and so I refer to it as 'Humphrey Bogart, Georgia!')
Me: Because he is dead.
Mom: Shocked and horrified look.
I quickly realize Mom thinks I'm talking about my husband. I had to do some fast backtracking, but still not certain if Mom comprehended. YES, yes, I should have known better...
Mom: God must have been THE best gardener in the world. He made fruits and vegetables and that is all we need. Look how pretty they are. (My favourite quote.) There were no vegetables or fruit in front of her at this time.
Mom: What is all over your face?
Me: Mom, my face is broken out a bit. I must be a teenager!
Mom: No, you're an old buzzard.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?
Mom: Reinvest. Points to the ceiling. Continues to look up.
Me: Reinvest what, Mom?
Mom: It's right there. See it?
I thought it was a strange word to see, but I was not in MY right mind because any word that Mom 'sees' on the ceiling is not there. I learn quickly about hallucinations.
Mom: Go get your hair done.
Me: You told me you liked it.
Mom: You need to do something different.
Mom: I don't know if you'll be here for Christmas, but if would be the BEST Christmas ever because we will all be together.
Tears fill her eyes. They are overflowing. DAMN this death chapter. DAMN IT.
Mom: I love you.
Me: I love you more.
Mom: No, you loved your Daddy.
Me: I love YOU, Mom. Always have. Always will.
Mom: Did you get the telephone?
No phone is ringing. I hold up receiver and say, 'Hello, Judy's phone.'
Mom goes back to her books and magazines, smiling. Lord, how she loves National Geographic.
Mom developed a large cough last night. You can imagine what is going through my head.
Mom: My chest is painful; it doesn't feel good when I breathe.
Panic. Sheer pain in my heart. I felt as if I stopped breathing.
Mom: 2 to 2. Mom holds up 2 fingers and repeats, 2 to 2. We have 2 more hours.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?
Mom: Look at the big bunny in the corner.
Okay. I am getting the hang of hallucinations. I am flowing with them and begin to think there may BE a bunny in the room.
Mom: You have a 'schniggers' in your nose. (Typed exactly the way my Mom pronounced it...)
Me: A what? Mom, what is a schniggers? (I grab a mirror quickly from my purse; nothing there.)
Mom: Yes , it is not very sexy.
Me: Hmmmmmmmmm. I will have to remember that one~!
I look at her. I take every inch of her face into my psyche - still so beautiful - still witty.
Mom: You look pretty in stripes. You look pretty in purple. You look pretty period.
Me: Mom, I love you.
Mom: I love you more.
I make the heart sign with my 2 hands and my Mother nods her head, smiles, and says, 'Ayahhh.'
Mom: I don't want to go to sleep because I have had bad dreams for 5 years.
Mom keeps going...and I'm thinking: 5 years???
Mom: I don't want to go to sleep because we are going to have the BEST dinner.
Me: Who's cooking?
Mom: I'm not telling you.
Me: What are we having?
Mom: You can ask me all night long; I'm not telling you.
Mom: If that nurse touches me one more time inappropriately and hurts me, I'm screaming.
Me: Mom, what happened? TELL ME.
Mom: I'm tough. I'm no sissy, but enough is enough.
Mom: I know what she is going to do and I do not want her to do it and I am not going to allow it.
Me: Mom, I need to know what you are talking about. Please explain.
Mom: You're so beautiful.
Mom: I wish you had curly hair. No little girl should be born with straight hair.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?
(Laughing so hard - apparently, THIS is WHY my Mom insisted on rolling my hair each and every night before school. Ask ANY little girl if she likes to sit while her Mom rolls up her hair. Mmmmm-mmmm. NO, NO SHE DOES NOT.)
Mom: Turn off that jazz band.
Me: What jazz band? (Not the right reply...)
Mom: Stern look. Don't be silly. Let's go to sleep now. You know what to do.
In my mind I'm thinking, 'No, I really don't.'
I give my Mother a salute!
Mom: That's right!
Her bony, fragile hands were folded across her chest; another big frown on her face. Why, oh WHY can't Mom look relaxed and peaceful? Her resting face looks devastatingly painful. I simply cannot stand to see this.
Each day I attempt to do something, say anything that might bring about a relaxed expression. I cannot make it happen.
Mom: Over the 100 years I have lived (not true ~ almost 90!) , I have learned a lot of crap, excuse me, I have learned a lot of business.
Me: Yes, yes you have, Mom, and you have taught me a great deal.
Mom: Has Summer Daye (my grand-daughter) kissed her boyfriend?
Me: No.
Mom: I wouldn't be so sure about that and 'cuts her eyes' at me.
Mom: Front row. I want the front row.
Me: Where? Where is the front row?
Mom: Let's stop all this chit-chat. We need some sleep.
I am rubbing my Mom's head. I want to see a peaceful, pleasant face. I love looking at my Mother's face. Now, still today, she looks incredibly beautiful to me. Gives me chills.
Mom: I want someone, NO, I want YOU to explain in easy to understand language just what it is you are doing.
Me: I am rubbing your head and stroking your hair.
Mom: You smartass.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?
Never have I heard my Mom say that word before. Never.
Mom: I don't want you to go away. (Tears flowing out of the sides of both of her eyes...)
Me: I'm not going anywhere.
Mom: What does that say on the ceiling?
Mom: Who painted the walls yellow? Why on earth did you let them DO that?
Mom fell asleep. 3 hours and 17 minutes later, her glorious blue eyes popped open and she smiled at me.
My Mother touching my face, brushing the hair out of my eyes, kissing my hands were the sweetest moments. It took all of my being to swallow my tears - a river went down my throat and my belly swelled with pain.
Mom's eyes are piercing when they 'see' love - I actually feel what she is feeling. I have never been more proud to be her daughter. She is fighting, coveting life, trying to squeeze as many conversations in until her last breath.
My Mother - the Fighter.
My Mother - quick-witted, sharp tongued, judgmental, but fiercely loyal.
My entire life my mantra was: IF I could grow up and become half the woman my Mother is, I'll be doing great. I am still working on it.
The relief I feel through this tumultuous and emotional valley is the fact that we (her teeny-tiny family) honoured my Mom's wishes and she is NOT dying in a nursing home. The chaplain told us that she had seen a lot of situations in her time and that we could not possibly have done any better for my Mother. Her words made me smile and I believed her.
Mom: I want to tell you that Paw-Paw (her Father) would be so amazed and proud of his girls; Constance, you, Kelley, and Summer Daye, but, oh, how he waited for Cory!
Enormous, sweet smile spread across her face and Mom patted my hands.
Sweet appears to be my favourite adjective. But, if anyone could see the light in her eyes when she talks - one would be forced to agree.
I learned my Mother wants her sheets and blanket creased perfectly on her bed.
I learned my Mother sill has a wicked sense of humour.
I learned, too, that I am a damned good whistler - upon my dying Mother's request. No, do no ask why, you will not get the answer you want.
Me: Mom, you have always preferred the company of men, haven't you?
Mom: No, I like some women; not many.
Mom: There are 2 men I would love to wear out and I mean WEAR OUT.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?
I almost fell from my chair. I howled.
Me: Who, Mom? TELL ME.
Mom does not share any secrets. Closed her eyes and grinned like a Cheshire cat.
Then, Mom looked under the covers! So funny!
Mom: Oh, I forgot to put it on. (Rolls up sleeve on her left arm.)
Me: What did you forget?
Mom: You know. I don't.
Gheeeeez-Louuuuuuuuise. No, I don't.
Mom's carer brings 4 peaches into the room for her.
Mom: 4 peaches? Oh, My. Thank you. This means I can put 2 in my top. Where are my boobs? What happened to them, Pat?
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT? Tears. Laughing Tears.
Mother is lucid, engaging, fun, bright-eyed, witty, wonderful, and wants to have a shorthand contest. We both know shorthand.
Mom: Let's do it. Let's have a shorthand contest. Do you have any paper? I have lots of pens.
My Mom is together and I am game.
Mom talks about losing her first born child, Constance. Her voice is sheer agony when she speaks of her. Mom talks about university again. Mom speaks of the time she spent in boarding school as a young girl after her Mother died. Mom talks at great length about her love of art.
Mom: Here we go. Write 'Hotel Peabody'.
For a second I had forgotten about the shorthand contest.
Mom: Get your pen. GO.
Mother is lucid, engaging, fun, bright-eyed, witty, wonderful, and wants to have a shorthand contest. We both know shorthand.
Mom: Let's do it. Let's have a shorthand contest. Do you have any paper? I have lots of pens.
My Mom is together and I am game.
Mom talks about losing her first born child, Constance. Her voice is sheer agony when she speaks of her. Mom talks about university again. Mom speaks of the time she spent in boarding school as a young girl after her Mother died. Mom talks at great length about her love of art.
Mom: Here we go. Write 'Hotel Peabody'.
For a second I had forgotten about the shorthand contest.
Mom: Get your pen. GO.
We both write 'Hotel Peabody' in shorthand. I call out a word. Mom calls out another. Mother's cursive handwriting and her penmanship were always works or art. People were in awe when they received letters or cards. True. And, Mom is lightning fast at shorthand, but I am faster now. Hers is prettier. Contest continues for 45 minutes.
Mom; I never knew you were that fast.
Me: As I child I loved watching you take shorthand and your work inspired me to learn. I loved it!
Mom: This was so much fun! We will have to do it again.
A fine evening. My heart is breaking because I know, I simply know...that I will never have another night like this with her.
Next day ~ UNFORGETTABLE.
From 3:00pm until 5:15pm I was certain my Mother was dying.
~Hallucinations all day
~Sounded as if she had a stroke
~Sentences made no sense whatsoever
~Could not make out single words
~Could only answer 'Ayahh'
~Crying; lots of crying
~Agitated, anxious
Mom: Do you realize when you die everything is lost?
Mom: Pat, do you know HOW much I loved Cory? (My son...)
Me: Mom, are you afraid of dying?
Mom: No, I'm only afraid of going back to school !
Told Mom I loved her throughout the entire day, held her hands. I do not want to let her go. I am supposed to tell Mom (because I have been instructed...), 'It's okay - you can go.' I cannot get the words out. The words will not come out of my mouth.
Mom: Put your black earrings on; those look tacky.
Mom: Wear my black, flat shoes and get my purple earrings. (My Mom does not own a pair of purple earrings.)
Mom: Maybe the wedding was yesterday. I don't know anymore, but go get your make-up on now.
Mom: No, it wasn't yesterday. I don't want them seeing my like this. I look like an old bitch. (I swear to you my Mother does not say this word. I do. She does not.)
Mom: Find my purple box and my purple earrings will be in there.
(I am flying around the room now because I want her happy.)
Mom never wore purple in her life. Mom begins pointing to the ceiling and her eyes are going to the left and to the right and she is smiling and gasping in awe and is completely captivated by what she sees...
Mom: Where am I?
Mom: Who brought me?
Mom: Don't miss me. You're so pretty.
I cannot keep up with these rapid fire questions coming towards me like a machine gun, plus Mom wants me to explain the hallucinations to her AND draw them. I try.
Then, Mom looks up at me...
Mom: I've been sleeping a lot today, haven't I?
I'm thinking: 'No you've been hallucinating and speaking in a foreign language , but you have most absolutely not been sleeping.' I do think there were times when she was sleeping with her eyes open. Very. Strange.
Mom holds her fingers up in front of my face and forms the number 5, then the number 2, then the number 4.
Mom: There is not enough time left.
I cry. I bawl in front of her. I place my head on the side rail of her bed and I lose it. Today we ran a marathon together. No stopping. It all comes out. I am shaking. I am snotty. I am a crumpled mess. I love my Mother with every fiber in my body and I do not want her to leave me. Oh God, how am I supposed to let her go? Mom rubs my head.
Mom: Please don't miss me. You have Marcus.
Well, Damn. I am a wreck and I have to leave the room in order to try to get myself together.
I enter room again. Adrenalin has kicked in.
Mom: Why don't we go out and have a sunbath?
Me: That's a great idea!
Mom: Well, I had better not. I would scare the people.
Mom: WHO ate my artichokes? I LOVE artichokes. Did you eat them? Damn it.
I try to respond.
Mom: (Talking over me...) I really like them. Where are they? I do not know what goes on in the room next to me.
Mom let's out a big 'WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!' Points to the ceiling and lets a big shout out again! Finger circles the air. Eyes follow. 'WHOA!' Another 'WHOA!' Smiling from ear to ear. Happy Hallucinations ~ Hallelujah.
I can't keep my eyes off of her face. I want to SEE what my Mother is SEEING.
Me: Mom, a male nurse is coming over soon to check your vitals.
Mom: (Immediate response.) Good God. A male nurse? I might die right this minute. Get my purse. Get my lipstick. He can't see me like this.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?
REALLY? I mean, REALLY?????????????
Nurse comes over. He has visited Mom before and she adores him. (Well, HE is a MALE, isn't HE?) Flirts her butt off with him. He is from Africa and his voice sounds like music. He is a charmer and a kind and gentle man.
Mom: Well, Hello. I remember you.
Nurse: Hello, Ms. Cobb. How are you doing? (HUGE SMILE!)
Mom: You have the prettiest smile. You're so much fun. Why did you cut your hair like that?
Nurse: Why, you don't like my hair?
Mom: No, not a bit, but I like you.
Nurse: Ms. Cobb, you always make me laugh. He goes on about his business.
Mom does not hold back with anyone. For months now she has said exactly what is in her head. Shocking!
Nurse asks me to walk him out. He tells me that my Mother's cough is the 'death rattle'. I did not give her that cough. And, there was nothing I could do to make her cough go away. He said Mom was near death's door. His eyes say 'Sorry' and he touches my arm. He tells me that out of all of his patients my Mom makes his day whenever he visits her. I cry. Again.
Mom: What is out that door? What is down that hall? If I walk through that door where will I go?
Mom is pointing to her bedroom door. I do not know how to answer.
Me: Heaven.
Mom: Hmmmmmmmmmmm ~ Ayahh. Do you think I will see the people I love?
Me: Yes. Yes, Mom I do.
Mom: Well, alright then.
Mother's chest is rapidly rising and falling. This goes on for about 50 minutes and is happening each day now. I sleep on comforters on the floor of her bedroom. I feel best when I can see the silhouette of her chest rising and falling.
I am thankful that I've had 5 great days with her. GLORIOUS. I made Mom's favourite foods and watched her enjoy them tremendously. Mom's carers were in shock because previously she had been eating like a bird. We were in the rally zone. But, I was told Mom's body was not absorbing any of the nutrients. She was eating only for enjoyment. Her body had already broken down.
Mom: (Losing her voice; the voice I love; speaking in a whisper...) Pat, I would have been a different person if my Mother had lived. (My Grandmother was killed when my Mom was only 8 years old.)
Mom: I only wanted a stable life. I know what people must have thought of me and it embarrasses me.
Mom: I did not want to lose contact with the people I love. I love Reed's children; especially their son. I did not mean to lose touch.
Me: Mom, it's okay. Life gets in the way; they know how much you care.
Mom: No, I want to get my story straight. I worked hard all my life and there is something to be said for that. I loved my work and the people I worked with at the Chamber, well, most of them.
I am brushing my Mother's hair time and time and time again.
Mom seems agitated. I get her a glass of water.
Mom: There is nothing better than fresh, cold water. Nothing. HUGE GRIN!
Mom: Why isn't Constance here? Why isn't she with me? I haven't seen her.
Mom: I can see a figure of a woman, but she is not from my family.
Mom: Do you like to be fancy? Do you enjoy getting glamorous?
Me: Sometimes, but, no, not really.
Mom: Me either. I like a nice, tailored suit with heels, but not too high.
Mom: I'm not a brave soul.
Me: Me either; I must have gotten that from you.
Mom: 'Fraid so.
Mom: Pat, I don't want anymore oxygen.
Me: Yes, Mom. You need it.
Mom: No, you go to bed. I'll handle it. Did we eat today?
Me: Yes, fresh peaches, cream cheese with olives on the crackers you love.
Mom: So, we're not going to eat again until Wednesday?
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...(My sweet Mom must be hungry!)
Me: Mother, we can eat any time you like.
Mom: Wednesday or Saturday will be fine.
Mom: Constance has gone away. The numbers that were above her head have disappeared. Why? (Mom points up into air.)
I cannot answer.
Mom: I cant touch my face. I can't touch my head. I can't touch anything; not that I really want to.
?????
Mom: Points to ceiling. WHO are they, Pat?
Me: I think they are our relatives; family.
Mom: Oh, I don't know about that. (Looks really scared and I don't like it...)
Mom: Your hair looks black down the middle.
Me: I had it done only 2 weeks ago.
Mom: Go get a mirror. Look in the light. I don't tell stories. You need a new girl.
See? Mom doesn't miss much even in the middle of hallucinations...
Mom: I have trouble with marriage.
Mom: Did you walk here? I've been walking all night.
Mom: Are you going to work?
Me: No, Mom. I'm here with you.
Mom: Goody for you! Goody for me! (I have not heard my Mom say 'Goody' prior to this moment - or if she ever did; I do not remember!)
Mom: I wish I had enough money where I didn't have to worry about it.
Me: Mom, you are fine.
Mom: Do I have a white one? Looks up - is that water running down? Tell those boys to STOP writing on the walls.
Questions are being asked in a rapid fire manner again.
Mom: Are you going to kill me? I don't hear any noise. Could you hide me in the office? Please? Please.
Mom: Where is the money?
Me: In the bank. (Energy in the room is uneasy and I want to calm her.)
Mom: Stacks of money in that office where we were. No one has thrown it away.
Mom: Did you stay up after you got home?
Me: Mom, I never left you. I've been here.
Mom: Did you go to sleep?
Me: Yes.
Mom: I did, too. I needed it; didn't you? Smiles and smiles and shimmies her shoulders.
Mom: I remember when I used to wear beautiful clothes.
Me: Mom, you always looked like a million dollars when you went to work. I remember vividly.
Mom: You know better than that...
Mom: Do you ever wish you could see someone again? Would you like to see Michael?
Me: Yes, Mom, of course.
Mom: I miss ole' Betty Boop. She was a nice person. (Betty was Mom's former carer in her home town of Memphis!)
Mom: Get a scarf for my hair, please. No, I don't want a scarf. I don't care. But, I do need pants - pretty ones.
I am an extremely proud and grateful daughter. I see my Mom's essence. I see her past running rapidly through her mind. Mother wants to make sure she says everything she wants to say to me. Thankfulness ~ an enormous abundance is what is filling my heart and every part of my body and soul; tears flowing. My head is swimming. The air in the room feels 'urgent'; I don't know how else to describe it.
You want to hold on to those whom you love forever even when you know that is not an option.
This morning there is no torment in her face. It has taken us eleven (11) days to get to this point.
Mom: Every part of my body hurts. Am I having a baby? Shaking, tears, looks as if she is in a good deal of pain...
I assure Mom she is not having a baby!!! I run and get some new meds.
Mom: I'm probably driving you crazy. (Smiles and laughs!)
Me: No, Mom. I love you.
Mom: You used to drive me crazy.
WHAAAAAAAT? Here we go again.
Mom: I keep thinking I'll get to see Glenda and Betty Boop. Then, I remember they live in another state; MY state. (Dear God.)
Clarity.
We have said that we love each other so many times that I feel content. I know Mom knows. Mom knows I know. This is THE most important issue to me. Mom is aware that I am with her in her last pages of her last chapter. Many moments I am scared, really frightened, then I have to snap out of it because she needs me.
Mom: Do I have a white jacket?
Me: Yes, with a black flower.
Mom: Ayahh. I thought I did. ('Ayahh' is not how Mother normally speaks. When she attempts to say 'Yes' - this is when Mom sounds as if she's had a stroke.)
Mom: Jackass did not pay me the amount I wanted.
I have NO CLUE.
Mom: Are you sure I'm not having a baby?
This makes me sad because now Mom looks like she's in a lot of pain again.
Me: Mom, does your chest hurt?
Mom: No, it doesn't hurt, but it is filled with phlegm and water.
Perfectly understood. Appropriate response.
Rib cage quickly rising and falling. Mom's brow appears with that concerned look. She is fretting. I hate this. Voice still a whisper. Light leaving her beautiful corn-flower blue eyes.
Mom: Thank God my friend's Mother doesn't know her daughter is dying of cancer. Thank the Lord. I mean that is truly a blessing. She is such a dear, sweet woman. Why can't I be dying of cancer instead, Pat?
Me: Mom, please try to relax. Close your eyes and gently breathe.
I hold her hands and tell her I'm right by her side.
Mom: I have black pants, a white top and low heels. I feel classy, sporty, and jazzy when I wear them together! (Her shoulders start to shimmy from side to side - it is really precious to watch because I'm witnessing pure happiness.)
Mom: I want my Mother.
This breaks my heart. I silently gasp. Mom will not look at me. I rub her hands, her hair, and kiss her forehead.
I slept on my Mom's floor again.
Mom: Pat, PLEASE get in the bed with me. (It's about 4:00am.)
I am scared that I will hurt her or tear her skin. She is so utterly tiny and fragile and vulnerable, but Mom is crying and insists. I quickly climb into bed with her.
Mom held on to my hands tightly - both of my hands cupped inside of hers. She kissed my fingers and told me that she did not want to leave me. We are both silently sobbing - HARD. The she tells me that she is OKAY.
Mom: Everything is okay.
Mother kept nodding her head saying, 'Finally' repeatedly. Both of her arms are shaking uncontrollably. I rub them as gently as I can. Her heart is literally pounding out of her chest and erratically, too. I force myself not to be frightened. I close my eyes and I simply hold on to her.
THIS day is the longest day in my life. It feels as if I've been taken to the mountain top and dropped right back down into the deep valley again - a few times over. We are on a roller coaster ride and I'm thinking it has to be far worse for my Mom than it is for me. How do I make it BETTER for her?
My daughter comes into my Mom's bedroom. I am sitting in my usual spot by Mom's bed and Kelley sits down on the other. Mom looks like an innocent child, plus she truly does look sad and scared. Kelley is always trying to make her Granny laugh and she told her how much she loved her and that she would see her later after work. Mom was holding my hand and holding Kelley's, too.
Mom: Oh, NO, you are not going to work, ARE YOU? Please, please Kelley don't go to work today. (Mom has never asked this of my daughter...)
Kelley: Bawling. Granny, I have to go, but I will see you later. Kelley looks at me; doesn't know what to do.
I slip my hand under Kelley's so at least Mom will still be holding 2 hands. Kelley practically runs out the door - crying uncontrollably. Kelley rings me on my mobile throughout the day stating that was the hardest thing she has ever had to do. I reassure her that she did the right thing.
Mom is whispering and her whispers become softer ~ little angel whispers.
Mom: (Whispering...and still smiling.) Who is that good-looking actor that I like so much? Is it Wishmar? Is it Swishmar? YOU know. Pat, YOU KNOW. Tell me what his name is. (Getting VERY frustrated with me.) I have no clue, but when Kelley rings next, I ask her who Mom is talking about. Kelley said to say, 'Shemar Moore'. I said his name to Mom and she gave me an instant THUMBS UP with a head shake and a twinkle in her eye.
Seriously???
Mom: That's it. He is the best looking man on tv. You, Kelley, and Summer Daye need to go to Hollywood and get his contract. The 3 of you could take really good care of him and get him in the movies.
(I am a huge Shemar Moore fan, but I never anticipated his name would be spoken on my Mother's death bed. The only tv I ever see her enjoy consistently is BBS or PBS. I shake my head in complete wonder.)
At night Mom coughs and continues to cough and it is not like any cough I've heard before. I have stepped out and Summer Daye reaches her Great-Grandmum before I get back to her room. Summer Daye keeps asking Granny if she's okay. Mom keeps coughing - terribly. Summer reaches for a cough drop and places it in my Mom's mouth. I panic. I yell at Summer because I think Mom is going to choke on the damn thing. I immediately feel bad for barking at her. My nerves are frayed. Summer was doing the only thing she knew to do to give her Granny some comfort. Mom looks up and thanks Summer and told her what a wonderful girl she was.
Mom: Where are my teeth?
Summer Daye: Giggling - Granny, you look SO cute without your teeth. Your face makes me smile so much.
Mom: (Hugely embarrassed...) I don't mean to have my teeth out, Summer. They fall out in the night and I can't find them. Please don't tease me or make me feel worse.
WE LOOK FOR TEETH...A LOT.
Summer Daye: No, I mean it. I really do. You look adorable and I love you.
Mom: I love you, too, and thank you for coming in to help me.
Telephone rings as it normally does early evenings. It is my husband and the moment we become engaged in conversation, my Mother slips her purse up to her chest, unzips it, pulls out the oxygen tube in her nose and tucks the tube into her purse looking from side to side to see if anyone's noticing. Now, that IS sly. I relay this to Marcus who roars on the other end of the phone. Unbelievable. Mom really thought she could get away with this.
We lock up the house; everyone is beyond tired. I think I might try to sleep in my bed for a couple of hours, but the moment I place my head on the pillow, I sit up, grab more pillows and head to Mom's room ~ pallets on the floor. I cannot NOT sleep in her room.
It feels as if every thirty minutes or so I am waking, looking up at Mom's bed so I can check on her. As long as I can see her chest rising, I'm okay. Sometime around 4:30am - 4:45am, I need to use the loo. I pop up, wearily, glance over at my Mother and touch her feet as I pass by. As I head back to my covers on the floor I think how peaceful she looks. I place my head on the pillow and I stare at her. But, it's very strange because I cannot actually see her face and I'm telling you this because I strained and I tried and I sat up, but I could not make out her facial features. Her face was in complete white-out. A halo - a shining white glow surrounded her face, blocking if from me. I could only make out my Mother's flowing grey-white hair. It upset me that I could not see her face. I stopped breathing. After about 3 - 4 minutes (felt longer), Mom's face came into focus and I began to breathe again, fell back onto my pallets and tried to sleep. I now believe this is when my sweet Mother died.
Early the next morning, I was staring at her. She was so still - too still. I didn't race. Slowly I got up and went to her side. Mom doesn't like to be cold. She was extremely cold and her skin did not feel or look like 'her skin'. Her chest was no longer rising. I bent over and kissed her forehead then covered her entire face in kisses while my tears flowed onto her. I turned and walked to her bedroom window and opened it in order to free my Mother's precious soul.
Marion Kathleen 'Judy' Cobb
Posted with Extreme Love and Devotion,
Blanco of The Roaming Stevens
Note: From the moment I arrived my Mother's words were significantly important to me, but as the hours and days went on I kept saying to myself that I wanted to remember what she said - I needed to remember what made us laugh and cry, but there were so many conversations. I am right handed, but my right hand was usually hanging on to Mom's hand, so I made certain I had lots of little notebooks and heaps of pens and made myself take notes with my left hand. As scared as I may have been these were some of the most beautiful days and I have Judy's essence etched in my memory and her laughter and tears embedded in my soul.
Please excuse typos.
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