|we all worked so hard for her wishes|
Mom has been longing for her home, her house, actually her heart and soul. When she went into the nursing home, she at first wanted to go home and mentioned to me that she knew we were putting her in it to die. She said she would never see her home again. Of course this was very hard on me, as I realized all too well we were waiting for her to die, And all too well she knew she was waiting to die, but wanted to do it in her heart, in her soul in her home. But the nursing home was the only thing that was best for her.
Cruelty comes in many forms. Cruelty comes intentionally and unintentionally. It can even come out of necessity, but the pain it inflicts is even crueler. Mom pines for her familiar comforts of her home, where she raised her children, loved my Dad and witnessed all the joys we as her children brought her, and now it is all taken away.
But suddenly the real world of cruelty reared its ugly head and became beautiful like a phoenix rising from the ashes of its self-destruction. The wonderful folks of Medicare decided that Mom could no longer receive physical therapy; she was no longer a candidate for rehabilitation. Because of this ruling by the state, we decided that we no longer needed the high cost of a rehab center: we would seek other means for her to die in dignity.
What better way to die than in your own home, among the many souvenirs of your life, pictures of your grandchildren that adorn your walls, the echoes of children’s laughter from years gone by, the moments of triumph and despair, the glories of yesteryear?
And so we sought out an answer and found one, in the coalition of Polish and Russian woman, a dedicated group through the auspices of St. Isadore Roman Catholic Church in Riverhead. A band of Russian and Polish immigrants dedicated to the transition of life to death, with dignity. They would stay with her 24/7, giving her the joy of living out her life in dignity, family and serenity.
I think that I wish to die with my wife in my eyes, with my children knowing that I loved them all the same, then I die happily, just like mom knows her children rallied to her wishes out of love and concern for her happiness. There is no greater love than a mother’s love for her children, and we as her children recognize this and not only love her, but each other, and all the beautiful nieces and nephews that grace our family tree, and all the golden beauty of our grand nieces and nephews that we so love, all because of one woman, Mom.
When I told Mom that she was finally coming home, a sweet little frail woman glowed in happiness and surprise, of disbelief and in gratitude to God. Her children had come through for her just as she did, time after time throughout her parental life. When we say goodbye, it will be with both tears of sorry mixed with tears of joy.
Thanks Mom, we love you!
Thanks Mom, we love you!