Tag: life

One Dies, Another Lives

JOE’S KIDNEY TRANSPLANT JOURNEY

In 2019, Joe was informed that he needed a kidney transplant to live. He was added to a renown clinics seven-year waiting list. In the interim, a port was surgically installed in his arm. He received dialysis treatment three times a week in four-hour intervals. Afterwards, he dutifully went into work at a retail store, often needing to sit down and take a breather. It was so taxing on him that, while recovering he would often delegate from his desk or stop to chat with customers, so he could take it slow. He maintained this regime for two years until good news came.

FAMILY MEMBER COMES TO HIS AID

Joe’s cousin came to his rescue. She volunteered to be tested, hoping for a match. She went through all of the testing and was a match! She and Joe filled out all of the forms, they went together for all of the doctor visits, performed all of the prep orientations and consultations. Joe was thrilled! He told everyone, family, co-workers, friends and even customers. He had a new lease on life, and it was a gift from his beloved cousin. They both then attended pre-surgery prep one week prior. They cleared their calendars. He spoke or texted her daily.

ONE WEEK TO GO

Exactly one week before surgery. His cousin calls to cancel. (Here Joe tears up retelling the details.) She couldn’t go through with it. She had read online how difficult it is to live with one kidney, and the lifestyle changes it demands. He was devastated. His wife then took him to all doctors’ visits but wasn’t very supportive. He couldn’t talk to her. He was back on dialysis. Then a breakthrough. He was having a private conversation with his doctor, who told him to look at his files. He was handed his medical records. Joe knew his doctor was fond of him and knew of his letdown. For within the records was a caveat of vital information, that Joe would pick up on. Within an hour driving distance, a university whose specialty was kidney transplants, had a six-week waiting list! Contact information was given in the file.

NEW LIFE FROM DEATH

Joe made many calls to the university, and when they learned of his dialysis, he was placed as a priority. He was informed that should a kidney become available; he would have an hour to get to the university. Joe prepared a go bag. The university already had rooms waiting in the building across from the surgical facility. Then, he received the call. His wife drove him to the university room. They waited for the call to report for surgery. As it turns out a young male attempted suicide and was on life-support. In order to have a successful transplant, the organ can only be used up to one hour outside the body. He chokes up as he tells that when life-support was pulled, the young man continued struggling to live. He died the next day. “I felt so excited at another chance, while this boy was dying. It was wrong and I knew it.” Because his body took hours to die, his kidney could not be harvested. Joe and his wife returned home. Soon thereafter, a young woman was in a car accident with a severe head injury. She too was kept alive for donors. Joe received her kidney.

RETIRED AND AN ADVOCATE

Joe now 63 and retired, explained that it takes the body five years to adjust to the new organ. He has to take medications for life and still has his permanent port. He talks to anyone and everyone about his experience and hopes to impart his wisdom gleaned. He’s an advocate for others on dialysis and those who are waiting, hoping for a new organ and a new beginning.

Never Pursue Your Dreams…Unless…

Don’t Buy Into Think And Grow Rich, Nor The Power Of Positive Thinking Nor Rich, Dad, Poor Dad!

I’m going to tell you the harsh truth. Never, ever pursue your dreams UNLESS you have fulfilled the following (see below article) criteria. If you squawk and attempt anyway here’s the short list of what will undoubtedly happen: you will fail. You will never make money, in fact the years chasing your dreams, could have been the earning years – yes, punching a timecard, yes, doing what you hate.

Do Not Attempt To Follow Your Dreams/Goals UNLESS You Meet These Criteria:

A) You Have Support

This may come in many forms; emotional/physical usually from your parents or grandparents. Or in the fairy tale form of a wealthy, childless benefactor. Someone who is dedicated in encouraging you, believing in you, guiding you and spending time with you. Taking you to and fro – without complaining. And hopefully funneling money into…

B) Education

Not the grade school/ high school variety. Not the local vocational school. You need lessons, whether it be creative – music, arts or practical – business, construction, you must have a higher education. You had better start early. You need all of the lessons, recognition, fearlessness at the youngest age possible. College, university, graduate school, more than a bachelors in something. You need a full-on master’s or several degrees to be impressive and command your area. Why? See next line.

C) Networking

With the support of A) your parents, etc., in addition to B) all of your extracurricular activities honing your craft or interests, combined with the wallop of an extensive higher education – all this leads to exposure. With this attention, from teachers, local admirers and for this article’s sake a letter of introduction from your benefactor – comes connections. If there’s enough financially invested, purchase a headhunter. This consummates into a ‘deal.’ A real Bonafide position in your choice of field. Make no mistake ALL of these are crucial to true financial and critical success.

D) Extrovert – Not Introvert

Waiting to be ‘discovered’ does not ever happen. You must be an extrovert. With the must-haves of A), B), and C) even the most introspective author, artist, musician or philosopher child prodigy will have the confidence and security to effortlessly present themselves. This perfect storm will seize success.

Where Is Talent?

Notice that talent is not on the list. Why? Shouldn’t that be first? Without a modicum of talent, how does one succeed? Have you forgotten that other old adage – practice makes perfect? If there is even a mustard seed of attention given to one subject; repeat this over time and you become an expert. Ask anyone who punches a timecard. They do the same job day after day and they too are an expert. So, it goes with talent. Is it not often said “a little talent goes a long way?”

Don’t Quit Your day Job – Get A Real Job

There is a reason why these phrases were coined. That reason? They are WISE. Learn from them. The world is not your oyster. Do not dismiss this, I’m parting wisdom upon you. Heed it. You must be pragmatic. Do not set yourself up for failure. Slow and steady wins the race. Work at what is practical in your part of the country. Keep contributing to your companies 401K or equivalent. Yes, you will always be a worker ant, never climbing up the ladder. But something happens after decade upon decade of working. Slowly but surely, you start to acquire things. Material things for sure like a home, a car maybe three, a motorcycle, a boat, jewelry, savings. It wasn’t want you anticipated for your life. But I’m sure you’ve heard the term “starving artist”? How many of those do you know? I know plenty. And I do not want you to be among them.

Women ARE Dirt…the real TRUTH

Yes, even your sisters…

What no one is talking about. What you won’t hear out loud. The backstabbing. The bad-mouthing. The conspiring. The phoniness. The pretense. The usury. The jealousy. The envy. The hatred. Why? Because women are competitive. They are enraged when outdone, even more so when it’s inadvertent. Be warned.

JELLY

Women co-workers, yes even those who you hang with on weekends and especially those with whom you luncheon together are right at this very moment-trying to get you fired. And it’s over that extra quarter an hour you make more than they do. It’s true; you’ve been alerted.

What about your life-long childhood friends? Remember those periods where you drifted apart and lost touch. Did that same friend keep in correspondence with others? Did they have outings and get-togethers? I’m willing to bet on it. You were excluded-most likely for the following reasons. Depending on if you are younger – you weren’t attractive enough: out of fashion/frumpy. And if you are not a magnet for men – they want nothing to do with you. They want women who will help them snag more men. It’s a sworn truth. If you are older: you lost weight and are now too attractive. You have too much – i.e., a good-looking man (immediate woman friend/sister killer), higher income, better car, own too many things (which they do not own). Ultimate instant woman friend fury- you have attractive, single men friends – whom you go out with and talk about it later.

Male Friends ARE Better

Having male friends are far better than having women friends. Male friends are just that. Men who are friendly, inclusive and genuine. If you are fortunate enough to have physically attractive men as friends, who have their own homes, several cars or trucks, motorcycles and the like- you are a TARGET of outrage from your so-called ‘women friends.’ They absolutely hate you passionately. They still want to connect with you in hopes of being invited to meet your male friends. How many times have they already asked? Worst yet, when you did introduce them – did your female friends suddenly ignore you? I’ll place money on it. If these men are co-workers, I’m throwing a dart that before your friendship was solidified, these same females either tried and failed to forge these same male friendships, or the male friends weren’t receptive. But once discovered, now these women want to be in your circle, too. But…they’ve approached these men without you. Your male friends let you know, most likely chuckling about it, not your women friends. There is a reason for it. Jelly- jealousy.

You Have What They Don’t And They Don’t Want YOU To Have It Either

If you are in a relationship, either established or blossoming- watch out. That nice acquaintance, schoolmate, best friend, favorite cousin or longtime co-worker will try to wreck it. Even your sister. They will flirt, proposition, try to corner him alone, sneakily ask for his number, try to pry information from him in an attempt to have secret knowledge. Or – the polar opposite, they mock YOU. You-with a good-looking man? Who are you kidding? Since when? Where did you meet him? He’ll never want you! If he has handsome friends, now you are in deep. These women are going to hound you, because you have discovered what they have been searching for. And they won’t have that. Suddenly, your inundated with inquiries about what you’re doing this weekend. Is so-and-so coming? As a test, let your female friends in on that yes, you are going out with the male group. Be careful not to invite nor give the time/place. If they call/text, get back hours later or even better, the next day. Elaborate on the awesome fun you had, give specifics. Afterall, have these same female friends invited you anywhere? Did you have to buy their tickets/dinner/gas/ride? How many times were you the instigator the designated driver? Did these women come to pick you up? Did these ‘friends’ help you move? Get a better position? Buy your way? Call you if you were ill?

Are You Aging Better?

It’s a thing. I had an ‘old friend’ repeatedly tell me – every single time she’d see me- that I ‘looked tired. Do you feel tired?’ Finally, I said something to her via text. She back peddled. I was disturbed by it and went to an acquaintance. I asked this woman, whom I had a rapport with, but still do not know her last name-what she made of this. Her response: “Are you aging better than she is? It’s a thing.” I had no idea that this could even be a topic. But as she delved into this, I came to the realization that I must be aging more gracefully. This was solidified when a male mechanic I see yearly, was astounded when he heard my age. His actual words were “How is that even possible?” I told him that there’s a special place in Heaven for him. A few days later I met up with that same insulting female friend. I wanted to tell her about his extreme compliment, but I did not think it necessary to wake up the sleeping dogs. To my female readers – watch your back, your women friends sure are.

Footnote: Over time, I’ve told several ‘women friends’ about this blog. Not one of them ever even asked what it was called, nor how to find it!

Selecting Headstones

I Was In No Hurry To See Their Names On Granite

Nor was Dad. Yes, it took 10 months to make the necessary decision to purchase their headstone markers. Bear in mind, we had to get through all of the legalities first. It not only involved making necessary calls to the likes of life insurance companies, banks, social security, doctor offices and hospitals. More time consuming was the transfer of titles; the house, the cars, the safety deposit box, plus naming new beneficiaries. Then there was the claiming of the life insurance policies, which involved a senior attorney. This cascaded into a 5 month long will revision and family agreement. The will was a drawn-out ordeal. It was horrendous and is the focus of an upcoming post.

The Time Had Come

After letting the dust of the will settle and subside, it became apparent that we must choose a headstone for mom. For any longer a wait would become disrespectful. Months ago, my brother-in-law decided that whatever we chose for mom, he would follow suit for my sister’s headstone. We had received several postcards from a local memorial company. God knows how they received our information. I had learned during the funeral process that from one funeral home to another, when pricing a traditional funeral, the final cost is consistent. One just needs to get the job done. With this mentality, I made the appointment. When the receptionist answered, she asked me a few screening questions. The first was if the marker was for the living or deceased. I had not realized that some have the foresight to plan.

Monument Appointment

Many months before Mom died, in fact she was not at risk of dying, she discussed purchasing the opening/closing of our family plots. Just two years prior, we had purchased eight plots in our church cemetery. After purchasing the opening/closing costs, she wanted to then work on a monument. She liked the idea of a bench with the family name on it. I had told her that we should do that in the Spring with my tax return. Now, choosing the headstone for her, I had let dad know of her wishes. Dad was leery that the bench would be too costly.

Monument Office Visit

At our appointment, I took note of how informal the atmosphere appeared. Our senior representative, and his colleague were both dressed very casually. No one spoke in hushed tones. Once again, as with the funeral home visit, a potential customer just walked in and inquired about a grave marker. As with that prior incident, the customer was encouraged to schedule an appointment. Once inside the office, the first order of business; choosing the stone. The stone choice determines the price. I explained that mom loved her Irish heritage, and I thought that a green stone with gold lettering would be a real tribute to her. Quickly, he shot that down. Green stones were some of the most expensive, hard to acquire and gold lettering extremely high priced. He quickly pointed to a pink stone color (their most popular price). I’ve seen that many times at our cemetery. They can keep it. I liked the next tier scheme of blue/gray/red/black mix. Dad did, too. From there he immediately went over the standard shape for a double monument. Dad had wanted a shared marker. The thickness of the marker 8 inches down to 6 inches, the width 42 inches trimmed to 36 inches and the base from 48 inches cut to 42 inches would significantly affect the pricing. Also built into the price, but provided by our cemetery, was the foundation concrete footer. This footer is poured three foot deep 18 inches wide, with the length determined by our final headstone choice. These footers are also grouped with other orders, and when enough are filled a contractor then pours the foundations. The wait is usually 4 to 6 months. Right about the same time as our stone would be finished; after our art approval and payment.

Pricing!

Being proficient on the design program, our rep quickly filled in our contact information and on a large 3-foot screen began to design some marker concepts. Initially in grays, he added Mom’s name and dates, then dads. He zoomed in and out, repositioned until he pleasantly displayed all. He explained that built into the cost, any artwork designs could be added. Since we our Catholic, I asked about a Crucifix. He had about six different renderings, but I liked the Traditional one. He effortlessly put one in the center. Knowing that mom was Irish, he also suggested a shamrock in the corner above her name. Then came the pricing $7600.00 plus tax and $1200.00 for the footer. It was then that I mentioned mom wanting a bench which would have been even higher. But lo and behold, our rep said otherwise! It actually would be much lower, with little compromise. Quickly he made a new draft, same stone, same type style, same lettering, same art but now more room to put all of the siblings first names! After he put the final touches on the new concept, he colorized it with our stone and voile! The price was $5600.00 plus tax and $1200.00

Sold

We were very pleased, especially to get what mom wanted and the price was exceptional. From there we started the concept for my sister’s stone. Though my brother-in-law was paying for hers separately, he asked that we choose it. For she is buried directly behind mom. They died 10 weeks apart. For hers, the process was much quicker, since stone, shape, thickness, type were all chosen prior. When it came to the art, I asked about a Mary image. Again, he had several, but one with her head, shoulders and praying hands with Rosary really stood out. Our rep made it work. It’s beautiful. And the cost $3900.00 plus tax and $1000.00 for the footer. My brother-in-law approved it. He scheduled his own appointment for payment. While there, he also had his name engraved on the back side. For our plots are in the shape of the Cross, so he will be buried behind my sister. All is paid for, so come Spring, footers will be poured. Shortly thereafter, their headstones will be installed, with a small blessing ceremony by our Priest.

Eternal rest grant unto them oh Lord. And let perpetually light shine upon them. May they rest in peace, amen. May their souls and all the faithful departed through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

The Smell Of Dying

The Odor Of The Dying

Once you are hit with the scent of the actively dying, you’ll never forget it. I’ve tried to come up with some comparison, to give you an idea of the stench. I’ve decided that the best description is the nauseating combination of hospital antiseptic blended with putrid festering infection.

Prior to the actively dying stage, I did not notice any odors coming from my mom nor sister. Once informed that they were dying, with only hours or day/days left to live, that changed. During the first few hours, I barely perceived a faint breath odor. As the hours passed, the stench started to cling to their persons. As the hours waned, and I moved back and forth from the waiting room to their beds, the smell became more pronounced.

I Kept The Comments To Myself Out of Respect

The stink quickly became repulsive. It started to cling to me. It reminded me of going to nightclubs where others cigarette smoke would cling to your clothes the next morning. Or how the stench of artificial fog from concerts would remain in your hair until you washed it away. Even my hands would reek of this curious putrid smell of my dying family members. Even after washing, I could still smell it. I never mentioned it though, until I let it slip to my brother-in-law. He told me a nurse had said it was due to the body shutting down. Infection takes over.

Stench Permeates The Rooms

Quickly, the smell overpowered my dying sisters’ room. Hers was an agonizing death, taking six days for her frail body to slowly starve to death. She had a rare form of early onset Alzheimer’s, called Benson’s Syndrome. Triggered by mom’s surprise stroke, my sister declined rapidly. She refused to eat or drink, sometimes becoming violent. Her dehydration led to infections, kidney failure, self-starvation and death. As she lay dying, unconscious from medications to ease her pains of death, her body emitted the queasy, noxious smells that filled her room. As soon as you entered her room there was no mistaking it. Once you moved closer to her face the more pungent it became. One would tolerate it though, because of the sadness of it all.

Mom’s death was swifter. Once the ventilator was removed, she attempted to breathe on her own for an hour. Then the gasping, the struggling for air, followed by the administering of ‘comfort care,’ drugs to help her die with minimal pain or discomfort. She lived for 24 hours. During this time family and friends rotated visits. A nurse told me mom was ‘Popular. She has more visitors than anyone. ‘ I was at disbelief. She went on to tell me that mom has had a constant stream of visitors and more flowers than anyone on the ward. During these in and out visits that’s when I first noticed the curious smell. It definitely was not as prevalent with mom as it was with my sister. But it was there, on her breath, on her hair. Later, when it was my sisters turn to die, I recognized it for what it was, the smell of the dying.

Long after I left the hospital, even days after their deaths, I could still smell that, dare I say, disgusting odor. I was using hand sanitizer; the scent was still there. Even after shampooing, still it clung. For me it took at least 5 days to rid myself of the scentof death.

We Buried Our Sister

Two months After Mom

You really do just go through the motions. I trudged through work and didn’t speak of it. At night I gathered as many photos as possible of her that I had. Prior to her death, I gave my brother-in-law the phone number of mom’s funeral director. This way, we could just do a repeat of her funeral. My sister would have liked that. In fact, just two months prior, she was with Dad and I at the funeral home while we made mom’s arrangements. The funeral director was aware of her condition. I explained to my BIL that this would make things easier. I met my BIL at the funeral home’s main location. The previous director greeted me with raised arms; “What happened?” Mom happened, and my sister rapidly declined. My BIL and I chose exactly the same casket and vault with the opposite complementary prayer card. I gave the director my copy of my sisters’ plot. Mom had the foresight two years ago to have us buy plots at our church cemetery. My BIL was going to have his niece help pick out my sisters’ burial clothes. It was hard for him to get through this, but what could I say? It was done. We just had to honor her. Once again, I had to write her obituary, and I needed to draft her eulogy. He agreed to ask the same women to read in our stead at the Mass funeral. The director excused himself while he called our priest to procure a Mass date and confirm that we could have the showing, Mass and burial and wake all in one day. He came back with two dates, the coming Friday or Saturday. I insisted on the Saturday, the 28TH. It would allow more to show, it was two days after her only son’s birthday, and it happened to be my birthday. It was perfect.

Funeral

Since Mom’s funeral was still fresh, we were accustomed to the procedures. I had made two photo boards (only one for the church parlor, the other for the Knights of Colombus Hall) and placed one in the Church. Then, I looked towards my sister’s casket. She was in her forest green dress with a white sweater. The sweater to hide her bone thin frame. Her jaw was clamped tight, only I knew it was due to her jaw being open. Her makeup was sparse, and had I known, I would have put eyeliner and mascara on her. So, I took lipstick and added color to her gaunt cheeks and color to her pale lips. One day earlier, by coincidence, my BIL’s sister knew the beautician appointed to set my sisters hair. She had attempted to lighten it blonde (because of my sister’s Alzheimer’s dementia she could not tolerate the procedure of lightening her hair) to cover the dark gray it had become. But, because of the cold storage it did not hold. And, as before, I was able to ask for a lock of her hair. I had cut a few strands in the hospital, but since the beautician trimmed her hair, now her son and husband could have some, too. Once again, her bangs were back like she used to wear it.

Visitation

Before the 10:00 A.M. opening, people started arriving. Soon I was called to stand at the head of her casket. I greeted her former classmates, parishioners, neighbors, colleagues, family and friends. Some 150 people were inline outside of the church waiting to give their condolences. I told my sister at every interval that she had done well. For I know that the dead are made to attend their funerals. They stand at the foot of their caskets. They wait for prayers. I prayed the Eternal Rest prayer and St. Gertrudes too. After some time, I looked to see out Priest standing near the foyer. I snuck up to him and asked if it was time for the Mass. At this point many more were still outside. He graciously said that we would wait until everyone was seated. One of her Catholic schoolmates mistook me for my sister, and another commented, that they, too were taken aback. Yet, another said: “She was sweet.” The funeral director assisted by my sister’s family member, a retired funeral director, helped turn her casket away from the crowd. Once turned, the director cranked the casket bottom and lowered my sister. He looked at me said; “Okay?” I nodded and he shut and locked her casket for Mass to begin. My BIL and nephew unfolded the mantle to cover her casket for Mass, and I followed the procession until taking my place in the pew.

Burial And Wake

After the Mass, easily 60 or more processed to the cemetery. Again, the brief ceremony of committing her body was performed at a holding place. For she was buried about 75 feet away right behind mom. Then as before we walked to the nearby hall for the luncheon. Easily 85 people attended as her grandchild ran around the hall playing with the toys I had brought. People mulled over her photo boards and conversed with each other, all talking about the turn out. Some had wandered over to Mom’s grave, too. Afterwards, my BIL called to talk about the amazing large turnout and that it probably helped that it was Saturday. He brought up the fact that it had spread around the church that it was my birthday, he didn’t realize. Yes, it was and it was perfect.

My Sister Has Died

Benson’s Syndrome – Has Taken Her at Only 62 Years Old

Our oldest Sister has died, only two months after mom died. I was hoping that she would not decline, that if we did not speak of mom’s death, in essence it could be blocked by her dementia.

Her symptoms were spread out over a decade. She had aches and pains, then severe back pain, followed by poor eyesight. She was diagnosed with sciatica, the fibromyalgia, later cataracts. She was a grade schoolteacher, held a master’s degree. Seemingly one day, she started forgetting things. Her principal advised her to seek disability. About a year later she was approved and was put on disability. Then suddenly, she couldn’t operate her phone, nor navigate her TV remote. Mom and I insisted we take her to her doctor; we had a whole list of things to discuss. The hurdle was HEPA. After much cajoling, my brother-in-law allowed us access. Once there, my sister, barely walking at a snail’s pace could not even remember her birthdate. Her doctor revealed that a year prior, during an ER visit when she fell out of bed and ‘didn’t feel right,’ her scans revealed dementia. Mom and I were silent, not wanting to alarm my sister. She sat silently at that time she had a tick of smacking her lips. Finally, when asked she said that no one had ever told her that.

Fear Of Nursing Homes

Immediately, she became petrified of being put into a nursing home. I promised her that this would not happen, over my dead body and I meant it. After breaking the news to her husband, who claimed he was never told either, so mom and I got to work. We knew caregivers had to be put into place. She kept saying she did not want to be home alone, that if she knew she was going to lose her mind she did not want to live. Yes, it was awful.

Fidgeting Uncomfortable Repeating

Once home we researched the dementia diagnosis and prepared ourselves for the following weeks appointment. Mom agreed to watch her for the next weeks with dad until caregivers could be found. I was prepared to pay out of pocket, and I did so, until her needs became too great. Eventually all of her disability went to paying various caregivers. Early on, I took her to a counsellor. Afterall, what could I tell her about dying? During our research it became apparent that her lifespan was cut down by a third. We kept this to ourselves, knowing that upsetting news brought on hallucinations. She began seeing ants everywhere. My BIL went through the motions of insecticides to appease her. Her clothes itched or felt off. She couldn’t dress herself, nor bathe, nor brush her teeth. Make-up irritated her. She couldn’t find the toilet seat. Her stare was far off, never making eye contact but in the general direction.

Eating – Food For thought

Almost immediately I told her that she must eat. I told her “Food for thought” which she repeated. Mom was cooking breakfast and lunch for her, and we had hopes for 5 more years. By the time caregivers were onboard, she wanted to go out to lunch and shop, etc. It was costly for the first 4 months or so, but I was happy to keep her occupied. During that period, I cleaned her home a few times due to her inability. She grew accustomed to various caregivers, just wanting company. She always wanted visitors, anything to keep her mind preoccupied. The TV was on constantly; it was her crutch. She needed her little dog beside her for comfort. But eating became worrisome for us. She mostly refused her caregivers; she would only eat for mom and dad.

Benson’s Syndrome

A year later, for it took that long to get a neurologist appointment, she was finally diagnosed with Benson’s Syndrome. This rare disease affects the back of the brain, mainly sight, so that you cannot determine precisely what you are seeing. Also, it is early onset affecting those in their 50’s. She was 60 then. Looking back the symptoms started decades prior, so all of her ailments if strung together would have pointed to this. Once I looked into this and did some calculating, I knew we did not have long with her.

Mom

Mom’s unexpected stroke left me and my BIL with a decision to shield her of mom’s condition. Mom could not speak, and she talked to my sister several times daily on the phone. He covered for her, until it became clear that mom was dire. When mom was pulled off the ventilator and struggled to breathe, my BIL situated my sister as close as he could to mom’s side. Try as I might, I’ve retained the image of my sister trying to reach in the direction of mom, saying; “Mommy don’t leave me!”

Doomed

Afraid after the burial, that she would rapidly worsen and preoccupied with Dad, I tried to sparingly speak to her. Unbeknownst, due to her lack of eating and drinking, she had another UTI which had to be treated. It worsened and she was hospitalized for dehydration. When I visited her, she was starving, I fed her and I stayed there until she fell asleep. She came home for a few days, but had to go back in, this time for another infection and more dehydration. She never came home.

I Didn’t Realize She Was Dying

Still dealing with mom, helping dad and sorting things out, for Christmas was coming, I thought she would stabilize and come home. Afterall she just ate 1200 calories for me. The next day when I visited her in a different hospital room and she was unresponsive, a nurse told me that she was actively dying. She had hours maybe a day to live. I had no idea.

Missed Signs

On a prior visit, on a different ward, she was twitching jerking. I was told that was from lack of food. Starvation. They fed her with an IV to stabilize her. She pulled out her catheter twice. She had to be video monitored. On one occasion, when we were alone, she was sleeping. She roused and I became worried when see looked at the foot of her bed and said sweetly: “What’s your name? Oh, you’re not allowed to say.” I said, “Oh, no.” She replied: “what?” I said, “I didn’t want you to decline so soon.” I also told her of all the accomplishments she achieved. Her smiling reply: “No I didn’t!” Now, on the hospice ward, during which I fed her ice cream and candy, she paused and said: “Comfort Me!” She was distressed. I did my best and told her not to be afraid. She went back to jabbering nonsense, then once again panicked asked: “Comfort me!” I tried, but it did not cross my mind she was dying. Once the nurse told me, I cried. The nurse said she had been seeing children. My oldest sister who was so good at handling all of our family functions, orchestrating countless functions was dying of starvation. She was vivacious, social and compassionate. And it came down to me to tell everyone that she had hours or days to live. This was on a Sunday. Our priest who had already spent time with her on the other floor, came immediately. Later he told me he gave her the apostolic pardon. Her friends from out-of-state came. Her former husband, friends and extended family, too.

Lights Flickering

In her room a recessed light to her left started flickering. It wasn’t like that prior. It did this for an entire day, then righted itself. As with mom, I prayed as many rosaries as I could, and in Latin. I knew by this point that I could not move the mountain of God and concentrated on sparing her soul from penance. I whispered into her ear that she was a success. I told her that if she found herself in darkness, to look for the light. Call out to Jesus or Mary or Joseph. I repeated this for several days when alone with her. Again, as with mom, I noticed that several men could not stomach to see her. So, her visits with the men in her life were brief, usually 15 minutes at best. She never again was coherent. She was on medication and any agitation, grimace or leg movement warranted increasing her pain meds.

Six Days Later

My sister died six days later on her grandsons second birthday, at 1:20 A.M. My BIL called me at 1:30 A.M. He was at home when the nurse called him. He wasn’t going down to the hospital. I called my other sister and being upset; she wasn’t coming either. I woke up Dad, and he tried to dissuade me, too. I called the nurses station and asked if I could come. She met me at an entrance and granted me access. There my sister was in her dimly lit room at 1:55 A.M. Death is not pretty. Her mouth was open to her chest. She was sallow from starvation, and she was gone. Never again will I speak to her, nor will she enjoy her retirement, nor dote on her only grandson. I knelt by her bedside and sobbed. The nurse came in and said: “Oh, honey.” I stayed a half hour and prayed and paced and took pictures of her, for me. Michele, all of my days I will miss what could have been. May the Lord God in Heaven please take pity on the soul of my sister.

We Buried Mom

Funeral Home Visit

I drove my dad and sister to the funeral home of Mom’s choosing to make the arrangements. The funeral home was vacant, except for one lone car. We were greeted by a friendly, casually dressed Funeral Director. To my surprise the funeral home seemed to need some upkeep. The concrete steps needed repaired, paint was chipping, cloth awnings fading. Once inside the foyer, the oriental rugs were worn, carpet ornate but faded. The home was massive. He ushered us into a large, but vacant side office. He was very forward about the costs, which was very appreciated. There was no upselling, no pushy sales and no false sympathy. He also let us know that the funeral home provided the death certificates. He would get us three copies, the norm he said. If we needed additional to let him know. Any questions I could text him. He led us into a very small showroom of 8 caskets, samples of other models, visitation books, prayer cards, etc., while he went into another office. During that time he asked if we were expecting others as two men approached the main entrance. Surprised, I said no, and he met two men at the door. The Director explained that an appointment is preferred. These men in easily in their late 60’s, introduced themselves and explained that they were in the area and had some questions. The director stated that he was currently with an appointment and to return in about two hours. Afterwards, I thought, who in their right mind, would just randomly stop at a funeral home – in this day and age- just to ask questions? After we made our choices, I asked him if Mom was here. He explained that though he lived there, this was a satellite location and Mom was at their main home about 8 miles away. Later, when I explained this to dad, he was a little upset, as this location was only 3 miles from home.

Mom Pre-Planned

Mom had pre-planned her funeral, in the sense that she worked out almost 2 years prior with our parish Priest her choices. Mom picked all hymns and scriptures. She left notes in her office of her preference in casket (cherry) and her clothing. You even wrote a poem to be read for her eulogy. So, these things helped immensely. Also, she wanted the visitation, Mass and burial all in one day. This is a relatively new trend in our parish, but Mom really liked the idea. Also, thankfully about a year earlier, Mom and I had purchased 8 plots in our parish cemetery. Our Priest gave us a great deal and squeezed out enough plots for our immediate family. We were going to work on opening and closing costs in the spring when I got my tax return. When it came time to write the obituary and eulogy, the Director let me know that newspaper obituaries in our area are very expensive. For a modest in length obituary, for only one day, was $600.00. Regardless, we chose to have it in two of our local papers, as I wanted as many people as possible to attend her funeral. In the obituary I asked that in lieu of flowers, that any mourners please light a votive candle for her soul. Our parish has an exact replica of the Lourdes Grotto in France behind the church, which leads to the cemetery. Inside the grotto “cave” are approximately 100 votive candles to be lit for various causes and prayers. Later, by our estimation at least 30 candles were lit for the repose of her soul. Mom being of Irish decent, liked the idea of a wake, and the Knights of Columbus Hall is adjacent to the church, so immediately after internment, all were welcomed for luncheon. The church has a funeral dinner committee and dad made arrangements with them to purchase the food/drinks for 120 people. It was a great bargain at $1000.00, including the hall, courtesy of our brother-in-law, who is a Knight. All said and done, with opening/closing, funeral home services, obituaries and food it was just under $13,000.00. Mom had $21,500.00 in life insurance, but it takes weeks to get the payout. So, dad withdrew from the savings to pay for it. We had a brief meeting at the Parish house with our Priest to go over the arrangements. He had visited Mom at the hospital three times to anoint her and called me during her final hours and after her death. He started with a prayer for her and went over Mom’s Mass notes. I was surprised to learn that Mom’s eulogy needed to be trimmed for brevity. This was due to his concern over taking from the point of the Mass. So, when I was finished with my draft, I sent it to Father for the okay. He did okay it, though long, most likely out of love for Mom. Later, I made four photo boards for the visitation and hall luncheon. I had to drop off Mom’s clothing, compression hose, undergarments at the main funeral home. This location was situated next to a vast cemetery. This funeral home was much older, and it too, needed some upkeeping. At the main funeral home, which was massive, I had to walk around three sides of the building to find the correct entrance. As all the other entrances were locked with a ‘see main entrance’ sign. Once I found the main entrance, more of a side doorway with three steps, I had to buzz an old-fashioned intercom. I expected to be buzzed in, but no. I stated my name and reason, and an elderly woman cracked the door open just wide enough to take the bag of clothes. I realized that extreme precautions are probably in place due to curiosity seekers, or worse.

The Funeral

The family needed to be at the church by 9:00 A.M. This was to give us some time with her before the public visitation. That was the first time we were to see her since the hospital. Once at the church, I was surprised to see that her open casket was at the back of the church, near the entrance. Mom looked good. The funeral home prepared her with minimal make-up. They curled her hair and left her hands untouched. None of the excessive heavy flesh tone, that I had seen at prior calling hours. I prayed for her every chance I had. Especially at her casket. Having read a lot about the poor souls in purgatory, I know that the dead need our prayers for their deliverance. Soon the visitors arrived, to sign in and greet the family. One an old friend who has the ‘gift’ came from over an hour away. She explained to me that later I needed to call her, she had some information for me. Others filed past mom, some visibly upset, most praying for her, even more looking over the photo boards. A lot were taking snapshots of her old photos. I had a friend discreetly take pictures of mom and film parts of the funeral Mass. About 80 people viewed mom and stop to chat with various family members. Most visitors found a pew to settle in, waiting for the Mass to begin. The entire time the funeral director would approach to let me know what cues to wait for during the upcoming Mass. He was always straightforward, no false sympathies nor mournful expressions. At this time, he let me know Mass was to begin shortly and that we needed to view mom for the final time. The casket would be locked for Mass and burial. I placed a blessed Miraculous Medal on moms folded hands, and let the funeral director know. He asked if she would be buried with it, and I said yes.

The First eulogy was read by one of mom’s friends who was also a reader in church. It was the funnier one, so Father asked that it be read before Mass.

The Mass

The Mass began at the back of the church, mom’s closed casket waiting at the end of the aisle. Father started with the prayers as all the mourners faced the back of the church. Father blessed the casket with holy water, and on cue, my brother and I placed the pall over the casket and the funeral director placed the large almost 3-foot-long crucifix that mom wanted to lay atop her casket. Father proceeded down the aisle, with visiting priests and deacons while the funeral directors wheeled mom’s casket in front of the altar. My brother and I followed the casket and then took our place in the pew.

Mass proceeded with all of the readings and after the gospel the second eulogy was read by another reader friend of moms. This one pertained to her love of the church. After Father spoke about mom’s faith and virtues, communion was served. Soon the Mass was ended and all of the eight pallbearers took their positions behind the casket. Once again, the funeral director coached them. They carried her casket down the two flights of stairs unto the awaiting hearse and helped place her onto the rollers, sliding her casket in. The cemetery was directly behind the church, so we never had to drive on the road. No magnetic funeral signs were attached to the vehicles. We followed the lead car and hearse up the steep hill to the main entrance of the cemetery.

The Burial

Due to the recent rain, the burial service was not held over our actual plots. Instead, the green funeral canopy was located just off the gravel path under a cluster of trees, surrounded by graves. Dad was a little confused and the cemetery foreman let dad know that the burial was only staged here. She would be buried in her plot. In fact you could see the yellow backhoe from where we were. After all arrived and surrounded the canopy, all of the family sat and stood around her casket. The directors placed the flower spray with the ribbons stating, ” Wife Mother Grandmother” atop her casket. Father began the very brief prayer service reading from the Christian Burial Rites. Each of us took a rose from the spread and the funeral director asked all the please go over to the adjacent Knights Of Columbus Hall for the luncheon. The burial service was over.

The Luncheon Wake

We walked the short distance to the rental hall, the church funeral committee waiting for the mourners. I had removed mom’s photo boards from the church, plus added another for guests. Several of us loaded flowers, planters gifted from mom’s admirers and placed them in the hall. We all tried to maintain the front that we were strong and in good spirits. Several friends and extended family members came to the luncheon who missed the Mass.

After dining and much small talk, a sister spoke a few words about mom. The real highlight being my great nieces and nephew, only aged between 1 and 4 years old, running, crawling and laughing. How mom would have loved that! My oldest sister, who has Benson’s Syndrome, tried her best to socialize and walk by herself from table to table. This was a milestone for her. She even embraced her former husband. Of course, I knew that I could not nor would not even mention mom to my sister again. Any upset, hastens and deepens her dementia. Her health, especially eating, was progressively worsening. So no rocking the boat on my end.

As the attendees started to disperse, I made sure to insist everyone take home the flowers and planters, along with any take home food containers. After all was claimed, I loaded Dad into the Jeep for the short distance home. Dad was exhausted. But he repeated several times how all “those people told me how much mom meant to them.” Then he added and said twice “I’ve never felt so much love like what was in that room.”

Footnote: I started this blog post one year ago. It has taken me a year to even think about finishing it. It’s not for lack of content, as you will see in my next posts, but rather motivation. The moment, second mom died, something left me. I’ve determined that the “something” was my belief that I could no longer move the mountain of God. I would and could certainly pray, especially for others, but my prayers had little impact. After weathering a storm of family turmoil, I feel ready to start again.