My mom had a little fever the other day, and then the next morning I was feeding her breakfast, eggs, waffles, pears, juice and I was talking on the phone which I am not normally doing but then I noticed her eyes had gone fixed like staring straight and I said
Mom Mom
I hung up the phone and I was like what's wrong what's wrong
And then she barfed, just erupted
She hasn't barfed at all since I got her, she's a hearty motherfucker
She just kept barfing but it was just sort of all flat down her front and the floor and the legs and I grabbed a blue bed pad like a giant washcloth and tried to do my best but she was finally done and then I felt so bad
mopping her up, mopping up everything
did I do something wrong here should I have known
Also dementia is so weird you don't know what's happening not at all, not before the barf, not during the barf not after the barf
there is no regret or fear
You are just in this ethereal nothingness where your body floats, and people shuffle around you loving you and smiling at you and hugging and chattering and wiping you
But she is preparing to leave
behind my back she is packing her Mary Poppins endless bag and putting in all the lamps and putting in all the memories and taking all the furniture the future and every christmas we will never have and she's packing it because she has to she has her orders from the god/desses
nature wants her back
I have to help her to the gate
So I stand awkwardly because I am not liking this position by the gate, I don't have any of the right clothes or bags I'm not a doctor or a minister or who do you need most at this time
Maybe just a dog and someone's arms around you
I have that
I have two dogs and one of hers and I have my arms, made by her and my dad
I clean her up and I watch her the next few days, she is weaker and she is silent, she goes a whole day without talking. Sometimes with her eyes closed. My friend Rebecca says she is listening to the angels tell her what to do. They're talking to her, the other side is debriefing her gently
I have to trust this is the process and feel honor that I am holding her hand here
It is awfully human to be here and I feel my lack of power at all and my complete unreadiness and underdevelopedness
I think this is how you have to go, just bare naked and scared
I'm not even going I don't think anyway, I'm pretty sure this is her way out but it feels very close because she is my oldest friend
I am sorry mom
I hope I didn't miss anything. I don't want you to be talking to the angels I want you here making me creamed chipped beef and laughing and showing me your shoes
I want you doting on grandchildren and being annoying and picking out the best apples at the grocery store, the ones with the bee stings, you say
Since your fever and your quiet I lie in bed with you at night just in case and tell you all the crazy shit you did as a mother. All the fairs you took us to and the music and fast cars and exercising, how you let me drive back from the barn, over the Severn River Bridge before I had my license, just to practice
You trusted me
Because you were an idiot
We were a band of thieves. At one time.
I guess you had your two sons here, you have had me and Barry and the kids and the dogs and sunshine and water and horses and chickens and gentle hands taking care of you when you couldn't take care of yourself. You never lost who you were because we picked up where you left off just to help you when you couldn't do it and we did it the way you showed us how
I am scared but I am here
Dementia is tricky you might be here another year but if it's today I love you and I hate you for leaving but I will you see you in the flowers and I will not be far I am always with one hand on your hair
