About two weeks ago my mom, who was 91 and was suffering from late stage dementia, started refusing food. She asked for things to drink (I mostly gave her water and Ensure), but she would not eat. A little after that she refused to drink. Then she stopped talking, closed her eyes and went into something like a deep sleep and became unresponsive. I knew her time was coming to an end. It was hard to deal with emotionally, of course, but part of me was actually glad it was happening. Her quality of life was poor, she mostly slept during the day, stopped reading (which she used to love to do), and was completely bed-ridden. Furthermore she often was unaware of where she was, who she was, and what was happening around her. This got gradually worse during 2015. Often I found myself asking God to just take her. I just wanted it to be over so I could go through the grieving process instead of grieving every day for the loss of someone who was still physically here. Also, she needed me by her constantly, would call my name every few minutes, asked the same questions over and over; There were lots of beautiful moments, too: she often told me how much she loved me, what a wonderful person she thought I was and how much she wanted me to have a happy life. So, when she actually started to go there were mixed feelings of fear, anguish, but much relief. I wanted to be with her during the dying process. I wanted to go through it with her. Even though she was non respondent, I talked to her constantly, telling her how much I loved her and what a wonderful mother I thought she was (all of which came from the heart). But I still prayed to God to take her quickly, for both our sake. However, when she passed last Friday it hit me like a ton of bricks. The world seems so surreal right now. But I was comforted and cheered by friends. Anyway, last night I started thinking about the mixed feelings I had when she started to go. This feeling that "at last it's going to be over. She'll be in a better place and I can have a little more freedom." I recoiled at these thoughts last night; did I really WANT my mother to die? What an awful person I am! And then I thought about all our friends who tried to cheer me by remembering what a good son I was, how much I loved her, and how much she loved me. But now I thought, "If they only knew...I feel like a fraud, I was relieved when my mother started to die! Did I actually will her death? Was there more I could have done that I didn't do, just because I wanted the dying process to continue? Should I have force fed her? Am I somehow responsible for her death?" I know a lot of caregivers feel like this.And the real paradox is that now that she's gone I'd give anything to have her back. Deep down, I know these doubts aren't true, but these thoughts started to hound me last night. Has anyone else here ever experienced these ambivalent thoughts about a parent's death, especially one who had needed intensive care during the last year of his or her life?
I was doing the same type of thinking as you were as I watched my Mom [98] pass. It was a combination of much relief and sadness mixed together. My life had been turned upside down and I was exhausted through this journey of old age, and the final 3 months of accelerated dementia. My Mom wasn't the person she once was, very bright with a sense of humor... all of that was gone and she was a shell of herself.... it was like, who is that person?
Don't beat yourself up Charlie. You were a good son.
its such a mortal struggle . you need to get your own life back . in order for that to happen , someone has to check out . its sad . id give both my nads to talk to my demented but brilliant mother to this day , but if she would have lived for a few more years , my life would have eluded me entirely .
theres just a time for everything . ( turn , turn , turn , )
my mother died at 81 yrs old . i was supportive and i was the only one there , dammit . i dont think she has any bad feelings about my sacrifice from wherever shes at . she loved me . my future was more of a concern to her than her present .
i love her ..
My mom passed away on December 18th, 2 days before her 87 birthday and I was with her at home when she passed away peacefully from heart failure. Never would have I thought she would die that night, but the last year had been difficult, being bed ridden, refusing something to eat or not swallowing food. But then again, with her vascular dementia condition, there were also some wonderful moments where she was all there and said precious and wonderful things to me. I will cherish those moments for ever.
I started feeling guilt after she passed away, asking myself if I had I done everything I could over these last few months, despite being a constant caregiver to her for the last 3 years.
I take comfort in the fact that doctors, friends and family told me all the same thing, she had lived a full life and the last few years were not what she would have wanted, being the dynamic and independent person she was all of her life.
If your mother was a good and loving person, she would probably also be "relieved" that your ordeal (as well as hers) is over and you can be somewhat free to start your own life. Your mother wants you to be happy. Do your best. Hugs to you.
If you continue to feel guilty, at least acknowledge that it is totally unearned.
That doesn't mean though that the conflicting thoughts won't be tormenting, for a long time in some cases. You just have to keep reminding yourself that her quality of life was such that continuing to linger would only have been painful for both of you.
I know since my Mom passed back in December, Dad is going through a lot of the "what ifs", and I was wonder if your Dad was doing the same thing. I think it is pretty normal for anyone to do that. The hard part is convincing him everything that could have been done, was done.
Dad is feeling guilty he didn't do more, but Mom was 98, there was nothing more any one could do for her except to keep letting her know we loved her.
you wrote exactly what most people go through....
I'm saving this because you describe exactly how i want my parents to go...and the thoughts I know I will be having one day....
Some people might find it offensive. It is a graphic novel as the writer is a cartoonist for the New Yorker.