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.