DYING TWICE

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It was one of the hardest days in my life, along with losing my son and finding out that my daughter would never be normal.

Recently I visited my mom at the nursing home where she now resides. She has been there for a few weeks, first as a rehab person and now as a resident. She is dying, her body surrendering to the taxes if old age, being almost 96 years old. Her mind is very clear, and her body is betraying her. We, her children never told her that she is in for the rest of her life, and every visit has been a challenge with my conscience, feeling dishonest that I never told her the truth.

But like everything in life, this changes too, and it did.

As I leaned over her bed one morning late, I asked her how she was and she stated bored. “Ma, why don’t you read or watch the TV, you should occupy your mind.”

“No, all I want to do is go home. I want to be in my own home, I’m bored here.”

Looking up at me she squared off eye to eye and asked what I was afraid of her asking: “Joseph, am I going home, am I getting out of here?”

Broken hearted as I looked into the eyes that always laughed, watched over me as a child, and seemed to plead: I had to be truthful. “No Ma.”

“Why? I want my home.”

“Ma, You can’t, the doctor thinks it is dangerous for you to live alone. You can’t walk.”

“Oh yes I can, I can walk, I want to go home.”

“Ma, if you can walk you can go home.”

“I can!”

“Can you walk to the bathroom and back? If you can then you should go home.”

Her eyes dropped in resignation, as the realization hit her that she was not going anywhere. With colitis, one kidney, and bad back and after 2 strokes, no use of her right hand or leg, there was too much going for her. Her blood pressure is way below normal, and one of the most telling signs that death is near, she has stopped drinking and pretty much stopped eating.

“Then I will die here.”

And so she will, it is going to be a slow one, hopefully not painful.

But she has raised the stakes for my older sister and I, by laying the guilt on us. She feels we have abandoned her and all hope for her. She forgets it’s her body that is betraying her, and not us. But each day we leave her, whether it is a day or an hour, the guilt surges through us as we feel that we didn’t stay long enough, that the last time we saw her may be the last.

The long walk out of the rehab center is a long one, each step presses on my guilt, I feel I have no right to smile or feel happy, then I remind myself that it is crazy to blame myself for leaving her as if I don’t care, the pain is deep and the sadness complete.

We often hear someone is over 90 and we think how wonderful it all is. We should be lucky to have such long genes in my family, but people completely overlook the real pain and sorry of old age it brings upon the person living that long, seeing themselves slowly fall apart. Nor do they realize how awful it is for those who are caring for her, the guilt and the sorrow, the survivors feeling all the tension of waiting for the inevitable, the memories that flood your mind of a day long ago.

So mom will die twice, once by my hand as I tell she can no longer go home

, and once by God's.