I was just waking up, as I usually do at that time of morning, but usually I turn over and try to get back to sleep. This morning, I got the phone call. Once told that my mother has fully transitioned to the other side, I thought of things I would be doing no longer. I fought not to feel guilty for not visiting her yesterday (my plan was to see her today). Less than 24 hours after writing the last post in this blog, the process of full transition was underway.

How do I feel? Empty. My tear ducts are dry. I started making a list of what I need to do and where I need to go. The first thing was sending texts to friends, her pastor, my son and relatives. Next was what I needed to do: find a funeral director, gather the pictures I found earlier this week, and I will continue to add to the list as the day goes on.

I know at some point everything will kick in emotionally, and I admit I am not looking forward to that. But I thank God for how he flooded me with peace yesterday, after I offered a prayer asking Him to take her home. I even slept better last night. If there is something to be happy for, it is that mom is no longer in pain, and that she started her flight to be with God as she was sleeping.

Now on to getting busy with my list of things to do….

“If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.” James 1:5,6

Today I did not visit mom; I will probably do that tomorrow. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about her. Later this afternoon I received a call from the hospice nurse who visited my mother. Hospice now makes daily visits. Yesterday, she was not in good shape, not opening her eyes and not communicating. Today, her eyes did open, but the communication was moaning, indicating she was in pain. So, the morphine dosage was again increased, almost like she is getting a double dose now. Good news is the wounds have not increased, so there are no new ones. Bad news: the kennedy wound is not good, and frankly, none of the wounds will heal, all have a strong odor, as her body continues to break down. After the call, I had a concern about the morphine. It is a powerful drug, so when is it too much? She is getting a lot now, yet she still moans in pain. Though a pleasure tray is offered by the nursing home (applesauce and pudding, for example), but she wants none of it, which means she continues to resist eating and drinking water.

I have tried not to ask God to bring her to him, as I did not want to appear like I was being selfish. However, after the call today, it was like a revelation came to me: You can ask, you know?

My mother continues to lose weight and has not been eating or drinking for months. She appears to be in constant pain. Her communication has broken down to a moaning sound. Do I want this to continue? More importantly, would she want this to continue? The answer is no to both questions. So why not ask God to intervene, being specific in the request? I don’t feel like this is a selfish request. For my mother, I just want the pain to stop for her. I will ask for mercy and grace to be extended to her in a way that will stop her from what I call not living life while being alive.

As the first chapter of James states, I have to be intentional about the request, not wavering as I make the request. I can’t be like a boat tossed by the wind. I can’t be one of doubt regarding the request. I must believe that God will honor the request, and that must be according to what he wants. Being double-minded must not be involved.

Bottom line: I can ask, you know? I believe I will.

Before I visited mom today, I got a call from the hospice nurse. She told me that mom seemed anxious and she arranged for the nursing home staff to give her medicine in hopes that would calm her down. I saw what she meant when I got to visit her.

Mom was in a talkative mood today in a way I could understand what she was saying. She wanted to be allowed to sing her song, and I told to go ahead and sing. I started singing a hymn, and she actually sang a bit of it. Then she asked for some water, and she took a few sips. But a couple of things happened while I was in her room.

First, I glanced in the corner and saw this picture:

It looked so empty, as there were no bags of water or food bag that she usually gets. This nothingness reminded me that I requested she not get that anymore; my heart sank. While I stand by my decision to stop that, seeing what I saw in the corner made me sad. It also didn’t help to witness the behavior of my mother.

In her own quiet way, she looked at me and asked me why I was doing what I was doing to her. Before I could respond, she told me that it wasn’t right what I was doing, that I didn’t care about her. Needless to say, I could not listen to that, so I left not soon thereafter, as she drifted back to sleep. As I made my way to my car, I fought my inner emotions of sadness, trying to encourage myself that I had done the right thing, made the right decisions.

Time is in God’s hands, and I await his movement regarding this.

The last time I wrote a piece in this blog I was grappling with whether or not to have a feeding tube inserted for my mother, so she could get nutrients. I decided then (October, 2022) to do that. She has since yanked it out at least three times since the insertion, but the tube was reinserted each time, and it seemed like all would be okay. My mother got to her 89th birthday on May 20th this year. At first, I hoped she would make it to 90. But I don’t think that will happen.

When I think of bed sores, I think of something that is painful, but not something big and deep. I was told that she had them, and the nursing staff was taking care of them by keeping them clean and dressed. I also noticed a change in her behavior, in her communication, as my mother continued not to eat or drink. But the past two days were very much an eye opener for me. A couple of months ago, it was recommended that I consider hospice care for her, as she was mentally and physically deteriorating. In my ignorance I did not truly understand what that fully meant, and now that my eyes have been opened, I had to admit I wanted to stay in that realm of ignorance.

Until Monday.

I spoke to the hospice nurse (also named Debra), and we had a real conversation about what was really going on. The feeding tube was no longer working, meaning my mother’s body was no longer absorbing the nutrients. The human body is made up of at least 60-75% water (actually more), and when the body starts to break down, that liquid has to go somewhere, and it comes through the skin in the form of a blister. However, once open, that blister opens, deepens, and widens, giving the area an appearance of deep blackness, with hues of red, white, orange, yellow and purple, giving off a foul odor. I found out the next day what my mother had been going through for the past few months.

The next day I was visiting, the nurse asked me if I wanted to be present while she cleaned and redressed the wounds. I told her I wanted to help and to see the wounds. With gloves on, I helped move mom, putting her on the side then the other, to address each wound. My mouth felt like it dropped to the floor as I saw them. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. Each wound became etched in my brain. The deep dimensional blackness of each wound helped me understand why she was yelling out from time to time. She was in a lot of pain. Just a light touch to her skin made her flinch in pain. And then I saw the biggest one of them all: the kennedy wound. When one gets this wound (a very deep and large wound the shape of a butterfly), it is an indication the end is near. None of these wounds will heal; the body does not have the capacity for that anymore. All the medical staff can do is keep them clean and dressed.

October 2022: feeding tube or not. June 2023: more decisions to be made. I requested all meds to stop, except for dementia and anxiety as an attempt to keep her calm. The morphine has been increased to help with pain and to keep her comfortable. Time changes a lot of things. And to be honest, I prayed for change to come and to get answers. But the conclusion of it all seems to be knocking at my door, and I admit I am not ready. But at the same time, I am at peace with it all.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.,” John 14:27

“They will have no fear of bad news; their hearts are steadfast, trusting in the Lord.” Psalm 112:7