Bye, Mum.

CaringDaughter

Registered User
Sep 22, 2013
50
0
The whole of life draws in on itself at this moment, a kind of 'removed' state, whilst the world outside continues on just as before. In that,there is something of tremendous value, allowing one to focus entirely on something completely your own. They may call it grieving, or whatever label denotes the depth of feeling which comes about after a loved one has died - especially in this world of dementia, which has claimed a 'person' much earlier on, whilst leaving them to live on so impaired by a disease which seems to mock at all the values we hold dear. Such is dementia.

Yet what seems so overwhelming now, so painful, so ridden with contradictions, will transform at some stage. Not tomorrow, nor the week afterwards, but when one actually becomes cognizant of the fact that the loved one no longer has to bear that struggle, that consuming disease termed dementia, there is genuine solace, because the battle is ended. Then, through a clearer and calmer mind, all the 'positives' come into play. The mother we knew, who was once able to laugh and cry with us, care for us, console us, nurture us and always be our mother, despite everything, despite dementia - is at peace. Our journey with dementia, a shared one in as much as we, as carers, as children, possess that bond, that very special bond, that journey too is over. One will feel that weight lifted from one's heart and mind. Not now, but a time ahead. And when that time does arrive, you can look upon the picture hanging on the bedroom wall, as I do every single morning, of a mother who bravely lived the latter years of her life with Alzheimer's, which was to claim her life, a picture taken before the disease was diagnosed, a picture taken on a tranquil afternoon, beside a river, where we took our very last picnic, with my mother smiling as she always did, like a ray of sunshine filled with abiding love, and you can look upon that picture without sadness, without pain, without a shred of despair, but with a profound sense of joy, of having been lucky enough to have had such a mother, for
so long and for giving to me so much of herself, even up until the very end of her own life.

Powerful words, and thank you for posting them.
 

Cazzita

Registered User
May 12, 2018
617
0
Condolences to you. Take care of yourself now and cherish the good memories xx
 

yak55

Registered User
Jun 15, 2015
616
0
Somehow I find myself back at TP and wishing I'd spent more time on looking at the 'end of life' posts.

Mum died this afternoon and after the last twelve years I can only wish her peace, and mourn the person we lost years ago.
It's been so hard reading about other people's struggles, and wishing I could help them. Now I know that there's nothing anyone can do to help in the end. Dementia claims another life.
I'm so sorry x
 

Fullticket

Registered User
Apr 19, 2016
486
0
Chard, Somerset
I'm sorry for your loss. I can only say what I went through and hope it helps a bit.
My mum died in February. We did not have a very close relationship and I guess that the role of full time carer crept up on me as other family members took one step back. When she died I thought I would be, in a sense, released from the 'job' and could take up my own life again. It hasn't quite worked out like that as I suppose I felt unwanted, unneeded and lost without this 'job' to do - albeit I moaned about having to do it.
The situation is resolving slowly but the impact of it has, frankly, surprised me.
Please continue to read posts here - I still go to the forum for caring for people with dementia as it has a bearing on what I went through, though I don't post often as there is no need to vent frustrations!
Take your time in coming to terms with the loss and accept that you are not going to be 'yourself' for a while - silly things like at first I could not really go into her room although none of her things were there any more and the room had changed uses. In just the last few days I have found that it is actually quite comforting to be in there.
I wish you comfort and strength; there will be a time when memories are nice ones.
 

CaringDaughter

Registered User
Sep 22, 2013
50
0
I'm sorry for your loss. I can only say what I went through and hope it helps a bit.
My mum died in February. We did not have a very close relationship and I guess that the role of full time carer crept up on me as other family members took one step back. When she died I thought I would be, in a sense, released from the 'job' and could take up my own life again. It hasn't quite worked out like that as I suppose I felt unwanted, unneeded and lost without this 'job' to do - albeit I moaned about having to do it.
The situation is resolving slowly but the impact of it has, frankly, surprised me.
Please continue to read posts here - I still go to the forum for caring for people with dementia as it has a bearing on what I went through, though I don't post often as there is no need to vent frustrations!
Take your time in coming to terms with the loss and accept that you are not going to be 'yourself' for a while - silly things like at first I could not really go into her room although none of her things were there any more and the room had changed uses. In just the last few days I have found that it is actually quite comforting to be in there.
I wish you comfort and strength; there will be a time when memories are nice ones.

Thank you for sharing your experience and for your kind words, it's so nice of you. I haven't been released yet as my Dad became ill in February (crumbling hip, pain, immobility, incontinence etc) so I'm still his carer as well, and can't go back to being myself. Ironically I've now got time to get onto TP, which I haven't really had before so I may take your advice.
I'm getting dressed in the mornings and still putting clean tissues in a separate pocket to mop up the dribble. I'm still clock watching for medication times. I still feel guilty if I sit and eat, or just sit - I should be doing something for Mum. It will take time, I know. Thanks x
 

worried2

Registered User
Aug 1, 2010
27
0
Hello CaringDaughter, I recognise that guilty feeling! Having lost my mum in January, it has taken me a while to get used to having time - and it’s a struggle to work out what to do with it. Like you I have an elderly father to care for too, but remember to take care of yourself as well. Xx
 

CaringDaughter

Registered User
Sep 22, 2013
50
0
Hello CaringDaughter, I recognise that guilty feeling! Having lost my mum in January, it has taken me a while to get used to having time - and it’s a struggle to work out what to do with it. Like you I have an elderly father to care for too, but remember to take care of yourself as well. Xx
Thank you.
 

Sparkling Wine

Registered User
Apr 14, 2017
19
0
Somehow I find myself back at TP and wishing I'd spent more time on looking at the 'end of life' posts.

Mum died this afternoon and after the last twelve years I can only wish her peace, and mourn the person we lost years ago.
It's been so hard reading about other people's struggles, and wishing I could help them. Now I know that there's nothing anyone can do to help in the end. Dementia claims another life.


Hello CaringDaughter... I’ve only just found your post. I’m so very sorry to hear of your loss, and I’m sending you a virtual hug.

My mum died just over 12 months ago after I’d cared for her for 10 years with Alzheimer’s and I never ever thought I’d ever learn to accept her death and live without her. Things have got easier over that time, but I still miss her and there will always be a mum sized hole in my life, which no one can ever fill. My friend said there would now be a series of ‘firsts’ to get through and she was right but I felt I was leaving mum further and further behind.
Most days now, I am ok, but there are other days when the slightest thing sets me off and I have to roll with the grief, as it were, let it happen and then I’m ok again.
I’ve learned that everyone is different in their grieving, that grief is not a linear thing and just because you are further down the line, doesn’t mean your grief lessons as time passes, you just get better at dealing with it.
I think of my mum every day. The counsellor suggested writing a letter to her, which I did for 12 months, telling her about my daily life and my feelings, and that helped me. I am at the stage now where I can have a laugh about the things she used to say and do and I don’t cry every day.
Your mum was very lucky to have you for a daughter and would want you to be able to be happy again. I don’t say that glibly, because I know how hard it can be, but I have found that there is light at the end of the tunnel, one that I thought I’d never see again.
Lots of love to you,
Sparking Wine
 

CaringDaughter

Registered User
Sep 22, 2013
50
0
Hello CaringDaughter... I’ve only just found your post. I’m so very sorry to hear of your loss, and I’m sending you a virtual hug.

My mum died just over 12 months ago after I’d cared for her for 10 years with Alzheimer’s and I never ever thought I’d ever learn to accept her death and live without her. Things have got easier over that time, but I still miss her and there will always be a mum sized hole in my life, which no one can ever fill. My friend said there would now be a series of ‘firsts’ to get through and she was right but I felt I was leaving mum further and further behind.
Most days now, I am ok, but there are other days when the slightest thing sets me off and I have to roll with the grief, as it were, let it happen and then I’m ok again.
I’ve learned that everyone is different in their grieving, that grief is not a linear thing and just because you are further down the line, doesn’t mean your grief lessons as time passes, you just get better at dealing with it.
I think of my mum every day. The counsellor suggested writing a letter to her, which I did for 12 months, telling her about my daily life and my feelings, and that helped me. I am at the stage now where I can have a laugh about the things she used to say and do and I don’t cry every day.
Your mum was very lucky to have you for a daughter and would want you to be able to be happy again. I don’t say that glibly, because I know how hard it can be, but I have found that there is light at the end of the tunnel, one that I thought I’d never see again.
Lots of love to you,
Sparking Wine
Thank you so much for these kind words. I think I will take up your suggestion and do some writing. I'm glad you found some light - my tunnel is still very dark and the funeral next week may well open the flood gates. Hugs x