Three years ago today, at about this same time, the weather was just like this. It was a Sunday morning and I had spent much of the day before in the same place I was going that day. In the nursing home. The nurses, CNAs food service workers, visiting ministers and maintenance staff. The families of other residents. Many of them knew me by now. Many referred to her as my mother. Sometimes I would correct them and tell them she was my mother-in-law. Sometimes I didn't. It would just create a conversation about how I was the one who was there all the time and I would end up defending him.
The journey that brought her and I to that day, that day three years ago today, wasn't easy by any means. We had our differences. Oh boy, did we ever. But, after she became unable to work and both of us did some changing, I think we kinda needed each other.
Crazy thing, I never knew how it would all change me. My youngest son recently sent me a text that included a link to a song he had just heard. A song by a son describing how his mom became a mother to her mom. He sent this to me during my work day, thanking me for what I had done for his grandmother and apologizing for not doing more back then (oh my! He was a kid!). I went to the restroom and listened to the song and sobbed. I ugly cried. I hadn't done anything special. I just took care of her. But that he had seen it that way. I am such a blessed momma. I have amazing kids.
But when it was all happening, I did what I knew needed to be done. She needed someone. We moved her here so she would be near family. Usually that meant me. And that was fine. Often, her son would not be even reachable. Oh, there were times he would be available, when it was good for him. I've mentioned before how he had affairs with her caregivers and, while she was still mentally alert, she knew and had to live with that. I don't know how she did it.
The night I was called to her assisted living apartment to pick her up and take her to the ER several years prior was when the real intense care giving began. He was supposed to be at work. But he wouldn't answer his phone. I sat almost all night in the ER with her, until they decided to admit her. Our two youngest kids had just gotten back from church camp and I hadn't even gotten to talk with them much. And here I was, making the decisions, while he wouldn't even answer his phone and would only respond sporadically via text.
Fast forward to three and a half years ago. I was at work and stressed more than I had ever been in any job. The call came in to me that June day. She was being taken from her nursing home to the ER. I was the only one available to meet her there and she had to have a family member. Why was I the only one available? He was in Mexico with one of the women he was having an affair with. But I couldn't tell anyone. I was protecting him. Again.
When he returned, he came to the hospital. She and I were in her hospital room by then. A room that looked out towards the office of yet another woman he was having an affair with. Although I didn't realize it at the time. He visited her briefly and then left. To go home. Our home. Where we were supposed to pretend like all was well. And then he worked most of the rest of her hospital stay, only visiting her when I begged.
I spent all of my free time that hospital stay, plus subsequent ER visits and another hospital stay, with her. No one else could get her to eat. He did go to another hospital out of town with her for a while. Until she was brought home. And then he disappeared, giving the ambulance drivers directions on what to tell me so I could take care of her and he didn't have to come home. Again, not answering his phone or texts and not telling anyone where he was.
I determined, after her terminal diagnosis, to make sure she got to go to church every time she could. I fed her a meal usually at least once a day. and I spent my weekends mostly with her. I didn't want any regrets. And I wanted her to know she was loved.
We were called one morning that last week, woken up early. The 'calling in the family' call. He got mad. We got up and I hurried as he took his time. When we got there, he declared she was sleeping just fine and we didn't need to be called. They had bothered us for nothing. That was a Thursday morning. I'm not sure he ever went back after that day.
Three years ago today. Three years ago today I walked into the nursing home, out of the rain. The nurse on duty had been waiting for me. My mother in law had taken a turn for the worse. I hurried to her room. She struggled to breathe, even with oxygen turned as high as it could safely be turned. I tried to get him to come up there. He was at work. He refused. Over and over. He refused. I just couldn't leave her.
I monitored her pulse-ox and took her temperature. I had never seen a fever so high. And yet it just kept going up. The nurse left her pulse-ox thingy with me (I'm a banker, not a medical person. All this was foreign to me in a way. But I was doing all I could to make her comfortable and take care of her.). The minister came in and prayed. I sang to her and talked to her about Jesus and about her family. The ones here and the ones gone before.
I called him and I texted him. He needed to come up there but he refused. The nurses said she would be more comfortable, towards the end, without the oxygen but he ordered that she keep it on. He refused to be present but wanted to be in charge.
I called her other son and daughter in law. Preparations were made for a drive to begin immediately in order to get there before she was gone. Then they realized there was no way. So they called. And they spoke to her one last time. They told her how much they loved her and thanked her for being who she was. She nodded. One of the few times she responded that whole day.
As shifts changed, work staff would come in to tell her goodbye and give her kisses. The last group came just after 11pm. One CNA said it wouldn't be long now. She was right. Just after 11:30, she opened her eyes and looked towards me. I wasn't sure at first what she said. Then I realized. She told me 'bye bye'. I kissed her on the forehead and told her I loved her. A few minutes later, she was with Jesus.
She gave me a beautiful gift that day. I don't fear death. She let me be a part of her going Home. Who on earth would have ever thought that, despite all the craziness and pain brought on by the choices of others, she and I would have been together for that moment. Nobody. But God.
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