A word from Blackie: First Steps Into Eternity—How To Help a Loved One Pass
Well, this week seems like it's going to be chockful of Democrats in array. But we'll get to that later.
Our own Blackie has graced me with permission to cross-post this piece from his own blog. It's something dear to my heart as I and my brothers confront our mother's looming mortality. So do give it a good read.
***
On a crisp, frosty autumn sunrise several years ago, my phone demanded my attention at five in the morning. I shook my head, threw off the blanket from my still-dressed body on the couch, and answered.
A pleasant, somewhat familiar voice informed me that my mother had just passed away. I slowly disconnected and whispered even though there was nobody around this phrase aloud:
“Oh, thank God that it is finally over for her.”
I knew no bands would play. No flags would fly at half-mast. A humble, simple woman, one of those kind, hidden heroes who hold together families and enrich communities, had disappeared like the last ember of a once raging forest fire giving off its final flick of light. I knew I would never forget this moment and recognized how I would now be the voice delivering the unforgettable message to my family members. I also felt relief and confusing gladness for mother as her constant battle with the blasted pain that had tormented her for years had ended.
I had not been around for my father’s sudden illness and death that took him away in a fast few days because I lived hundreds of miles away. But I was there with Mom for all but the last few breaths. I had just visited her that night, a few hours before, at the hospital. My wonderful 14-year-old son had thankfully accompanied me for the last visit and recognized that time was ticking down on her, and fast.
“I am glad you came, Perry. That may be one of the last times we see her. You do know that, don’t you?”
“That’s why I kissed her on the forehead, dad. Just like she used to do when I felt sick,” this tremendous near man spoke.
***
Here are some things I have to teach to you. You will someday be lucky enough to be in the position I once held in dealing with a dying friend or parent. You, too, will one day receive a call or hold an unresponsive hand. (I have used mom in this post, you can easily replace mom with dad if that is your situation.)
I am thankful my Mom and I got to live long enough to transform our relationship from mother-son to person-person friend. I had many good, happy days with her in the last years of our time together. I feel good about the golden moments we had when the roles completely reversed when I became her primary caregiver and she the helpless recipient. I can still vividly recall putting a bib on her at the nursing home and us laughing at the situation.
“Did you ever think you would be putting a bib on me?”
Then she had genuinely laughed. So, my first message is transform the relationship. Give up all the past hurts and the grievances. It is time to switch places, but do so in a way that isn’t dominating. Treat your mom or dad like a good friend. This is no longer about you.
Let her talk, encourage her to talk, bring up shared experiences, bring in old photos. Even if the talk turns to regret, mistakes, or seems full of self-pity. Do not block the talk. Don’t negate what he or she is saying. Listen better than you have ever listened to another human. Ask her questions and mirror them back. Do not get into being a problem solver. You cannot solve this one.
Bring music into her life. Buy a good portable CD player or I-Pod and some quality earphones. Try an audio book with her. Music, especially with the use of headphones, can be a way of relieving pain and a way to combat fear and loneliness. This may have been the most successful thing I did with her in the last few months.
Read to her. Read the paper. Read her poetry or jokes. Read inspiring stories. The Chicken Soup for the Soul series is a great place to start for these. Tape record her and ask about her childhood. My favorite memory from this was when she told me that her favorite Christmas present as a child had been a fresh, juicy orange.
She also shared, with the tape off, the time she had come home after working a long shift a few weeks after her first husband, my blood father, had died and given my older brother a too severe spanking. The guilt and sorrow of that event had made her vow to shower her sons with love and to hurt no one else for the rest of her life. She cried over this 50-year-old memory.
With the recorder back on, she told me all about my blood, mystery father, a taboo subject when Dad had been alive and how she had to break off contact with my blood father’s relatives as every visit turned gloomy and ended in tears.
Be aware of family members who are going to approach your mother or father’s coming transition with their own set of experiences that may diverge from yours. Try to be patient and resist with all your power anything monetary or old sibling trips that could surface and soil this important end time. There will be plenty of time to let it all out when it is over if you still feel the need.
I am asking you to not only fight off your own demons but to also shrug off those of your family members. Simple in theory, but difficult in practice. Do it for your mom or dad, just as we tell divorcing parents to put the kids first. In fact, one or more family members may want to provoke—subconsciously—some nonsense as a misguided form of coping with this all. Tread lightly.
Also, give yourself a break when you find yourself getting irritated and recognize that our parents have real trouble in giving up independence. When they have to quit driving is an example.
Keep care of yourself during this time. Force yourself to take catnaps, outside breaks, walks, and monitor your own feelings. You must be fresh and alert as you will be making important decisions. Recognize that you may be a vehicle for some interesting mystical messages that may be sent for you to deliver to your mom. You are going to say some things to your mom that you will have no idea where they came from, as that is part of this experience. You are not an angel, just a person who has been given an angel’s job.
Relish the end times. Try to see this for what it is. Be thankful you are there for her and capable of being strong and supportive. Thank her for things she has done for you and cheer her on for what she accomplished during her time here.
Ask her directly about dying and get the subject out in the open when you sense the time is right. One time I turned to Mom and said, “If you could live another year, would you take it?”
The conversation that followed this question was profound, and I noticed relief from her. In retrospect, I think she was trying to be a mother to the end and protect all of us kids from what she knew as the final chapter. No more secrets—get the subject out in the open and let her know you are going to be okay, that everyone knows the truth, and is getting along. And when the time is right, give her permission to go. They are often alone and in pain, don’t you think it logical that they would be thinking of their own death?
I am thankful my Mom and I got to live long enough to transform our relationship from mother-son to person-person friend. I had many good, happy days with her in the last years of our time together. I feel good about the golden moments we had when the roles completely reversed when I became her primary caregiver and she the helpless recipient. I can still vividly recall putting a bib on her at the nursing home and us laughing at the situation.
“Did you ever think you would be putting a bib on me?”
Then she had genuinely laughed. So, my first message is transform the relationship. Give up all the past hurts and the grievances. It is time to switch places, but do so in a way that isn’t dominating. Treat your mom or dad like a good friend. This is no longer about you.
Let her talk, encourage her to talk, bring up shared experiences, bring in old photos. Even if the talk turns to regret, mistakes, or seems full of self-pity. Do not block the talk. Don’t negate what he or she is saying. Listen better than you have ever listened to another human. Ask her questions and mirror them back. Do not get into being a problem solver. You cannot solve this one.
Bring music into her life. Buy a good portable CD player or I-Pod and some quality earphones. Try an audio book with her. Music, especially with the use of headphones, can be a way of relieving pain and a way to combat fear and loneliness. This may have been the most successful thing I did with her in the last few months.
Read to her. Read the paper. Read her poetry or jokes. Read inspiring stories. The Chicken Soup for the Soul series is a great place to start for these. Tape record her and ask about her childhood. My favorite memory from this was when she told me that her favorite Christmas present as a child had been a fresh, juicy orange.
She also shared, with the tape off, the time she had come home after working a long shift a few weeks after her first husband, my blood father, had died and given my older brother a too severe spanking. The guilt and sorrow of that event had made her vow to shower her sons with love and to hurt no one else for the rest of her life. She cried over this 50-year-old memory.
With the recorder back on, she told me all about my blood, mystery father, a taboo subject when Dad had been alive and how she had to break off contact with my blood father’s relatives as every visit turned gloomy and ended in tears.
Be aware of family members who are going to approach your mother or father’s coming transition with their own set of experiences that may diverge from yours. Try to be patient and resist with all your power anything monetary or old sibling trips that could surface and soil this important end time. There will be plenty of time to let it all out when it is over if you still feel the need.
I am asking you to not only fight off your own demons but to also shrug off those of your family members. Simple in theory, but difficult in practice. Do it for your mom or dad, just as we tell divorcing parents to put the kids first. In fact, one or more family members may want to provoke—subconsciously—some nonsense as a misguided form of coping with this all. Tread lightly.
Also, give yourself a break when you find yourself getting irritated and recognize that our parents have real trouble in giving up independence. When they have to quit driving is an example.
Keep care of yourself during this time. Force yourself to take catnaps, outside breaks, walks, and monitor your own feelings. You must be fresh and alert as you will be making important decisions. Recognize that you may be a vehicle for some interesting mystical messages that may be sent for you to deliver to your mom. You are going to say some things to your mom that you will have no idea where they came from, as that is part of this experience. You are not an angel, just a person who has been given an angel’s job.
Relish the end times. Try to see this for what it is. Be thankful you are there for her and capable of being strong and supportive. Thank her for things she has done for you and cheer her on for what she accomplished during her time here.
Ask her directly about dying and get the subject out in the open when you sense the time is right. One time I turned to Mom and said, “If you could live another year, would you take it?”
The conversation that followed this question was profound, and I noticed relief from her. In retrospect, I think she was trying to be a mother to the end and protect all of us kids from what she knew as the final chapter. No more secrets—get the subject out in the open and let her know you are going to be okay, that everyone knows the truth, and is getting along. And when the time is right, give her permission to go. They are often alone and in pain, don’t you think it logical that they would be thinking of their own death?
Do not trust the doctors as being all knowing. You need to be in control, especially concerning medications. One time, mom was hospitalized and when she returned home, my sister and I went through her many medications and read the printouts. We found they had given her medications that interacted in negative ways with one another. We got some discontinued after alerting the primary physician who was himself unaware. This is especially true of those seeing multiple doctors or specialists.
***
Last, a story of how humor and tragedy are often twin visitors. I want to tell you about Mom’s last serious fall.
Things had been going very well. Mom had gotten a spinal steroid shot that had worked. She was free of pain for the first time in years and was feeling well enough to visit her friends and play her precious Bingo out at the Indian casino with her pals. She was all dressed up and getting ready to drive out there. In the bedroom, my son and two of his friends were goofing around and laughing. Actually, they were farting and grossing each other out after I had cooked them a huge breakfast of French Toast, sausage, bacon, and eggs. Mom said, “It really is a beautiful dayyyyyy... and out she went like a lit candle being snuffed.
I paused my coffee sip while sitting in a kitchen chair and witnessed her crumple. The scene seemed to be in slow motion. I dove and got an arm under her before she hit the oak floor. She started shaking as if in a convolution and my first thought was “No, not a stroke!”
I yelled, “Jesus Christ! Perry call 911!”
He yelled back, “Oh, come on Dad, the smell isn’t that bad.”
When I told this to Mom in the hospital a couple of days later, she simply howled with laughter.
Your mom or dad may not be in the end times yet. There are many time schedules. Some are quick and suddenly over. Others have a series of ups and downs and linger for months or even years. But if you have an elderly parent, it is going to be a voyage for you. I hope some of these words give you solace.
Things had been going very well. Mom had gotten a spinal steroid shot that had worked. She was free of pain for the first time in years and was feeling well enough to visit her friends and play her precious Bingo out at the Indian casino with her pals. She was all dressed up and getting ready to drive out there. In the bedroom, my son and two of his friends were goofing around and laughing. Actually, they were farting and grossing each other out after I had cooked them a huge breakfast of French Toast, sausage, bacon, and eggs. Mom said, “It really is a beautiful dayyyyyy... and out she went like a lit candle being snuffed.
I paused my coffee sip while sitting in a kitchen chair and witnessed her crumple. The scene seemed to be in slow motion. I dove and got an arm under her before she hit the oak floor. She started shaking as if in a convolution and my first thought was “No, not a stroke!”
I yelled, “Jesus Christ! Perry call 911!”
He yelled back, “Oh, come on Dad, the smell isn’t that bad.”
When I told this to Mom in the hospital a couple of days later, she simply howled with laughter.
Your mom or dad may not be in the end times yet. There are many time schedules. Some are quick and suddenly over. Others have a series of ups and downs and linger for months or even years. But if you have an elderly parent, it is going to be a voyage for you. I hope some of these words give you solace.