June 17, 2023, is the date that is engraved in my mind. It was the day my mother took her last breath and passed away.

Fast forward to Monday, June 17, 2024, the first anniversary of her death. The plan was to visit her grave, but I couldn’t do it. For the few days prior, I was in a low, depressed mood, mentally arguing with myself. Part of me said it was my duty to go, while the other part said it was okay if I didn’t want to go. I decided not to go on that day. That gave me a bit of peace and gave me the courage to go on another day.

That day was this afternoon.

Since it was a warm summer day, I ran some errands and then went to have lunch. I was pleasantly surprised with a lady sitting near me blessed me with buying my lunch. It was the first time a stranger did that for me. I asked her why she would do that for me, and she said “the Spirit told me to bless you.” I thanked her profusely (especially since I would not have much money left had I paid for my meal). When I left the restaurant, it dawned on me I could use some of those funds to buy some flowers and go visit the cemetery, since I wasn’t far from that location.

After getting the flowers and driving to the entrance, I slowly drove around, trying to find the grave site, telling myself to be patient, which helped as it didn’t take long to find the section. Memories flooded my mind as I looked at the stone with my aunt’s (Ella) and mother’s (Verna) names on it. Years ago, they purchased a plot and were buried together.

A solemn moment, but a good one.

I didn’t stay long. As I looked at and repositioned the flowers, I said to them both that I hope they were both well and doing fine, and they were watching over me.

I hope I don’t wait so long to visit again. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. There was nothing to be scared of. I was okay after all.

It’s been a while since posting. A lot has been going on.

For one, it’s been a time of thinking. I was expecting since my mother passed in June to be going through a lot of emotional issues. I can say that has not been happening, which makes me feel strange. Why am I not reacting or being down or depressed? Here is my theory.

While walking the dementia journey with my mom, perhaps that is when I went through multiple stages of grief during the almost eight years of our dementia journey. That included not sleeping, my mind endlessly spiraling wondering what to do next regarding her. There were times I sat up in my bed crying, wanting things to end, to stop the pain I was experiencing and the sickness she endured. When I got the call from the nursing home, the first thing I felt was relief.

That day early in the morning, the end of the journey became real. I remember after hanging up the phone how despondent I felt: no tears, and just staring at the darkness of the 3am morning as I sat on the edge of my bed.

And here I am months later, about to embark on something new. A new environment, an opportunity to live in a southern state. Learning again to live with my son Stephen, who by the way has just graduated from med school and wants me to move and be with him at his house he just purchased. In this day and age, it is honorable for adult children to offer this to their parents. I decided to take him up on his offer. Hopefully it will allow me to live in a different space. I have no reason to stay where I live now, as I was only here to care for my mother. And I always said that if anything happened to her, I would move to another city. Now that time has arrived.

This week my mother would have been 90 years old. For some weird reason I feel that by moving to another city I am abandoning her. I know I am not, but I think it anyway. I have to be patient with myself and allow these emotions to happen and not berate myself for feeling the way I do.

Another chapter is starting a business. I like creating short videos that are daily devotionals. Instead of reading words, they are created in a short video of 30 seconds to close to two minutes. Check it out on http://www.nh320.com. I am hoping this venture will be successful.

With God’s help, it will be.

See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? Isaiah 43:19 NIV

About a month ago I started visiting a place I did not think I would feel comfortable going to. A new ministry was beginning at my church, organized by a couple who wanted to reach out to seniors at a nursing home. They were going to conduct a bible study there twice a month, and they asked me to sing a song before the bible study began. I had a concern about that.

The nursing home was the first place my mother lived. It was also the place where she broke her leg, but not much was done about it, until she experienced pain and her leg began to swell. She needed surgery to repair her femur, and I moved her from that home. About two months after she passed, I was being asked to go there again.

I didn’t want to be a part of that ministry. It was not because of the couple that was leading the ministry; it was because of the memories I knew I would surface once I entered the room where we used to meet. I didn’t want to deal with that.

Nevertheless, I decided to participate. The first time of driving to the home gave me much trepidation, and was very much a challenge, even getting in the car to drive there was difficult. Once I entered the home, the memories started pouring out of my brain. It was like a locked area that held the memories was opened, flooding the rest of me with my mother’s face, her smile, watching her crunch on Popeye’s chicken I brought for her, and on and on.

The next time I went, it felt like a drudgery. I didn’t want to see the people who came to the ministry, I just didn’t want to be there.

Then today happened.

I looked forward to going; this was a new experience on this day. I made sure I had the song prepared, that I had my camera equipment so I could take pictures, and it was a pleasure to assist the seniors with finding the verses in their bibles. I was surprised how I was feeling. Before it felt like the time there was going in slow motion; today the time went quickly. I liked being with them. And that was when I realized something: there was a new thing happening.

It is not that God didn’t know what I was going through, yet he blessed me with taking away the angst of being in a familiar place, honoring that I took a chance to be a part of ministry. I surmise that when you are doing something for God (despite the mental roadblocks), he takes that into consideration and blesses you.

So, the new thing sprang up in me, which makes me happy. My thought for you is to try the new, regardless of how you feel about it. If it is for God, all will be well, and he will make sure you perceive the release the process.

“It’s only been two months; give yourself a break!” I was told by a counselor, who told me it has only been a few days over two months since my mother passed away. I further was told to reevaluate once the ‘firsts’ have been experienced: The first holiday, the first new year, the first Mother’s Day since her passing. If I could get through that, then see how I feel. Maybe during one of those experiences I may have a watershed moment. But for now, don’t worry about it, just go with the flow.

And what is that flow? Frankly, I don’t know. I feel not whole but empty. I am getting things accomplished, but I still don’t feel complete. For example, I was happy I got the headstone done (needed to have both my aunt’s and my mother’s name on one stone…long story), and I was pleased with how that came out. Today, after much going back and forth with my mother’s bank (another long story), that account is now closed, and I got all the bank statements downloaded in case I need them, so there is something else done. What needed to be donated had been done, and what I wanted to keep I have kept. And yet, it’s just the way I feel that isn’t right. So, what am I to do?

Since I don’t have much of an understanding of this, whatever I am feeling I have to give over to God. After all, He encourages us to

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. 1 Peter 5:6,7 NIV

I don’t know about all this, but He does. And when it is the best time, He will show me what is really going on. Whenever I feel a certain way that I can’t explain, I must immediately give over or cast it to him, taking the emotion off me. For now, I need to stop trying to figure it out, because that is not working for me.

It has been over a month since mom died. At times I still don’t believe it has happened, it seems like it is not real. When they closed the casket during the funeral, I thought that was pretty much final, and I thought I would fall apart, but for the most part I did not. At the gravesite was another type of finality and I thought I would emotionally lose it there. I didn’t. I just stared at the ground. Then came today: the insurance money arrived. Well, this is really the end, I thought, waiting for an inner reaction. I guess I did have one: I thought I would be happy seeing the check, but instead that made me feel sad. At the same time, all my reactions (or rather non-reactions) have me continually wondering just what is going on with me. I can honestly say I have no idea. I remember once this journey with dementia began with my mother, there were many times that I mentally said the way my mother was had died. She may still be alive, but the way I knew her is gone. I remember going through a type of grief then. Could it be that the grieving process (or at least the bulk of it) has already been experienced? I don’t know.

Sometimes I feel like David must have felt while he was praying, renting or tearing his clothes in agony over his son’s sickness. But when his staff questioned each other about how David would react to the news of his death, as recorded in 2 Samuel 12, starting with verse 19:

“Is the child dead?” he asked.

“Yes,” they replied, “he is dead.”

Then David got up from the ground. After he had washed, put on lotions and changed his clothes, he went into the house of the Lord and worshiped. Then he went to his own house, and at his request they served him food, and he ate.

His attendants asked him, “Why are you acting this way? While the child was alive, you fasted and wept, but now that the child is dead, you get up and eat!”

He answered, “While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept. I thought, ‘Who knows? The Lord may be gracious to me and let the child live.’ But now that he is dead, why should I go on fasting? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me.”

Maybe this sums up how I feel about my mom’s passing. When David said “who knows? The Lord may be gracious to me and let the child live.” I thought that about my mother, even kept some of her winter coats just in case I needed them. But when the death happened, David in essence continued on with living life, even having a son thereafter, who was Solomon, a great king. For me, I donated the rest of her clothes and her coats, and it didn’t bother me to do so.

There are times I stare out into space, wondering what to do next. I am happy to be writing again, and I looked at one of my unfinished books and reviewed it. This makes me happy. At least my creative writing skills haven’t dried up. I took one trip and look forward to doing more. I am happy that I feel there is more for me to accomplish. But if you have been through the bereavement process, I would love to read your comments. I think that would be a great help to me. In the meantime, I will continue to write, and hope you will continue to read my words…

June 17th ended an eight-year journey regarding my mom’s illness of having dementia. I expected to react one way, and I have that did not happen. For example, I expected to breathe a sigh of relief. Have I? To a degree, yes, knowing my mother no longer is in pain. I expected to delve into depression or deep grief over her passing. Frankly, I have not experienced neither. I expected to be happy, knowing I could continue living life without thinking about mom before I did anything. Let’s just say I am not jumping up and down in pure happiness about me being free to do whatever I want.

This has me wondering what I am really going through.

If you have read earlier posts regarding this journey, perhaps you can get a better understanding. In 2015 I had no idea of what was going on with my mother, and I was in a downward spiral because I didn’t know how to react, how to resolve any of the problems I witnessed with the illness. Eventually, as the disease progressed, I concluded within myself that my mother as I was used her being…was dead. Her true personality and her laughter were replaced by confusion, anger and unexpected behavior, all of which I was not used to experiencing with her. Down through the years, I was seeing a familiar face that no longer had the personality I grown accustomed to; that was gone. Having said all that, could it be that for years I was undergoing the grieving process?

Though I didn’t recognize that at the time, I believe that may very well be the case with me. The times I spent praying for her, the sleepless nights sitting up in my bed thinking about how I could fix her and the situation while knowing at the same time I could not, eventually coming to the realization that I had to be patient with her (and myself) and allowing the dementia process to happen and go the full course is making me realize the whole time I was grieving.

During the funeral I was afraid I would just yell and scream and cry, and there were times when the tears came during the service. But I had more emotion at my aunts’ funerals years ago than I did at my mother’s. I thought I was supposed to have that, but I didn’t. Even now, in four days it will be a month since her death, and yet the surprising reaction is there doesn’t appear to be more reaction to it all. Why am I feeling so guilty about that?

When I look back at all that has happened, I believe God was with me and helped me in the preparation of her death. For example, I was not like my friend Mary who had to clean out her deceased mother’s apartment after the funeral. I took care of that after I found a nursing home for my mother to live in February 2018, donating the furniture to Habitat for Humanity. I walked around each room of her place as memories flooded my brain before I locked the door for the last time. Before that happened, my mother requested I put my name on her bank account so if she could not go to the bank, I could get funds out when needed. I remember being angry at God who I feel put me in a position of being a caregiver when I didn’t want to be, taking care of bank accounts, writing checks for her bills, being overseer of her finances (while struggling with my own), wanting time to be my own but knowing I needed to visit her and handle her affairs. I had to (maybe for the first time) literally stand toe to toe with my strong-willed mother and tell her loudly we were not going to do that (what she directed) but we were going to do this (my decision), much to her dismay. I was now the leader of the family, a position I did not ask to be placed in; I no longer had one child, I now had two, which included my mother. The more decisions I made, the more comfortable I became with it. When talking to the hospice staff about what to do next when mom’s condition worsened, I quickly gave directives on what to do and what meds to stop. I stood by those decisions and didn’t feel guilty about it. Nevertheless, it was still a surprising reaction I was not expecting.

I am doing my best to accept what I am and am not feeling, trying not to feel guilty about it, and accept the grieving process, regardless of how the grieving pendulum swings.

Since I got the news on June 17th at 3:15am that mom had passed, life became a whirlwind. There was so much to do, and I thought to myself that I wasn’t so busy when my aunt Ella died. And then I remembered, mom helped. She arranged the funeral, I helped her pick out the flowers for the funeral, together we viewed the body, she decided what clothes for Ella to wear. But this time, all of the arrangements had fallen on me. I had to do e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. My sleeping issues got worse. My mind could not be shut off. I was up at 2am. Well, I might as well do something since I’m up, I thought as I slowly shuffled to my desk and created two poems: one for my son Stephen to read at the funeral, and one for me to read.

Later, I came up with an idea to create a comedic moment, which gave me a reason to immerse myself in creativity. Once the idea was thought up, I created it on the Staples website, ordered them to pickup later, pleased with the effort. Now all I have to do is remember what to say in making the presentation.

I guess everyone who deals with the funeral director has issues to deal with. Their job is to get the biggest bang of a buck to provide their services. The first room during my meeting with the director housed the most expensive caskets: made of solid woods and costing $19000+. Truly that was out of my league. The next room was more reasonable and fit what I thought would be my pocketbook, and I made it known that that was the room we would remain in. My mother stressed to me not to put money in the ground, meaning get the cheapest of everything. She had already paid for her cemetery plot, and I truly believe she thought she paid for the opening of it, but she had not. She paid for two plots including the opening for both, but it was only for one: her sister Ella, who died 13 years earlier. Add another $1900+ to an already looming funeral bill.

My saving grace (thanks Mom!) was she had life insurance. The funeral home used a company that checked to verify that what I said was correct, and it was. Because of that, they fully paid the funeral bill, knowing that when the company processed the paperwork, they would get reimbursed. What a weight that was lifted off my shoulders! My chest felt less tight knowing the funeral arrangements could continue.

Then we went to another room to look at clothing for my mother to wear. Of course, what I liked was the most expensive, ($200+), and what they had was not in the color I wanted to use, which was her favorite color of yellow. I stated that we could use one of her choir robes if I could not find something. But I found something that I thought was perfect through my bestie…Amazon.com.

The price was ridiculously low (less than $45), it was yellow with flower appliques, and since it was one size fit all, I knew they could pin it where needed, and it covered her body…or so I thought.

In the end stages of her advanced dementia, her body started to break down which caused her to have deep wounds, and many were on her arms. Of course I did not want those to be seen. But with less than 24 hours to the funeral I got a call requesting to provide another dress for the reasons stated above. The dress was not covering her arms and thus her wounds were showing. I fought for her, and I fought for the dress.

After the call, I turned and looked at my closet. It was as though the Spirit of God was pulling me in that direction, along with something in the closet that seemed to be whispering “take me, I can help.” As I approached the closet, I saw a yellow sweater that appeared to be the answer to the dilemma. I quickly grabbed it, hopped in my car, picked up the robes from the cleaners and dashed to the funeral home. I stated that I may have a solution and if the sweater would work. The gentleman said he thinks that would work, and the robes were not needed.

When my son and I viewed the body later that evening, the sweater was in the perfect shade of yellow and matched the dress. Her arms were covered completely, and the dress made her look radiantly beautiful. Another heavy weight was lifted off my shoulders. At the funeral, many who came marveled at how lovely she looked. The casket was open only to show from the waist up; my way of protecting her so no one would see her wounds.

What is the conclusion of this story? For those of you who do not have life insurance, get some. It does not have to be a large one, but at least one that will cover funeral expenses. It will help those who are arranging your funeral.

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….