15. Aug, 2018

Passing

An August westerly blows some warmth into my chilled veins, they splinter and crackle like a thawing pond.

Never in my life have I experienced so much pain – even at the lowest point in my depression. In some ways, for me, depression can be physiologically protective because it can numb you like an epidural does during childbirth.

But grief, well it’s a different feeling entirely. It is sharp and raw and slices through my heart like a guillotine, it’s not one cut, but a gradual death by a thousand cuts.

Mum passed away last week surrounded by a waterfall of tears, her family by her side, but dying wasn’t peaceful for her. Filled with pain and panic, she fought for every last breath like a soldier continually being recalled into a battle they can never win.There was little respite in between.

Emphysema, I’m told is a very difficult death due to the anxiety and effort it takes to draw breath. Even in sleep, there is disturbance. One wonders why someone so good has to suffer so…

We watched her fade away. Her pleas for us to end her suffering as we nursed her at home will haunt me for years. If only I could have answered them and relieved her distress. So many “if onlys, coulds, woulds and shoulds” – they circle my guilt-ridden brain. Could I have helped her more?

The system let us down. So many minutes or hours wasted at the end of a phone wrestling with bureaucrats. She was discharged from hospital only a week before she passed, with no home support setup other than that provided by us, her loving family.

Government processes…what a joke! I was advised it would take a month to organise more government support for “at home” care, they wouldn’t hear us – they didn’t hear the desperation in our pleas.

They couldn’t keep up with her rapid decline. We would have liked more assistance so our incredible mum could pass from this world surrounded in her home with our love.

We moved mountains to provide her with the care she required, when finally my cries were taken seriously, Palliative care stepped in to help share in our pain.

My mum was nursed at home, until she was transferred into Palliative Care where she passed from this world into her next, just three hours later.

Rest assured we were there. We let her go with our blessing, she had had enough of the struggle, she was ready to be at peace.

Apart from my canine companions I had never seen anyone depart this world. Her last breaths were deeper than any I had heard her take in the past eighteen months.

I believe our hearing is the last sense to shut down in death, if that is true, then mum left this world hearing an outpouring of love expressed from our lips.

We sat with her, and the gathering grew. Her children, grandchildren and even my dad came to say goodbye. They had divorced when I was thirteen. Some flames may flicker, but in our hearts, the glow of mum's warmth and love will never be extinguished.

Even though I feel like a chasm has split my heart in two, I know mum will be with me always. She made me, she moulded and shaped me into a person intent on giving my all to make sure her memory will live on in all of our hearts.

I must admit I am not very religious, I prefer to think of myself as spiritual, but I like to believe in a reunion of souls. That somewhere there is a place where we shall meet again and that she has finally reunited with her first family and that’s okay, it’s their turn to have her. I know she will fill them with stories of our lives...a prouder mum, I have never met.

Mum wanted me to write a book. To compile my blogs and photos and to continue to document my journey.

One of her last requests to me was to dedicate it to her…”To My Mum”. Nothing would give me more pleasure. I just hope one day I am able to fulfil her dream and realise her faith in me.