By Dixie My little Mama died March 7th. It’s OK. I miss her but she had 85 trips around the Sun and I believe she was ready to go home. Her last few years were not easy. My Poppy Jack was her only husband and best friend, and he had passed a few years before. She never got over his leaving her. She developed dementia, maybe because of or at least sped up by his death. I was always very careful not to say or allow the word “dementia” or “Alzheimer’s” to be said around her, but she knew. I believe she knew.
In the weeks before she died, she would start crying at random times, sometimes while awake, often while asleep. Dementia patients sometimes cry because of physical pain they can’t articulate, or from hallucinations from a brain that dies before they do. I don’t believe either of those were happening with Mama. I do believe she was at her most lucid during those moments because when she was asked why she was crying she always had the same answer; “Jack just let go of my hand”.
I believe he did. Every life has an endpoint. The death rate for all of us is 100%. Only God knows when. The hospice nurses could speculate based on vital signs and her caregivers would guess based on their past experiences. Daughters can beg God for more time and an end to suffering in the same breath. But the ending is not up to us. And although I believe my sweet Poppy is in Heaven, he didn’t know when his bride would come with him either. It is a great comfort to know he was there waiting.
During the last three weeks of my little Mama’s life, she refused to eat. She would spit out anything we would give her. I told her that she could win any watermelon seed spitting contest in the world because she would violently spit out any nourishment halfway across the room. Dementia patients lose the ability to swallow and eventually to digest food. I don’t believe that was happening with Mama. She could chew, swallow and would still accept sips of water or Coke. The last week she even refused liquids. I would try to give her tiny sips of water from a syringe just to keep her mouth moist, but she would close her mouth tightly like a toddler. I believe she wanted to leave.
Mama rallied just a few days before she passed, like a lot of dying people do. She sat up in her wheelchair. No leaning, no slumping and she was alert and happy. Her eyes sparkled and were a beautiful cobalt blue. I had never seen her eyes that color before. She watched her favorite shows; “Gunsmoke” and “Little House on the Prairie” and ate a couple of chicken nuggets with her own hands. She had not been able or willing to feed herself in weeks, but that day she did. Not much, but enough to give me great hope. I was so hopeful that I went to her favorite cafeteria the next day as soon as they opened and got her everything I knew she liked to eat. When I got to her house, she was back in her hospital bed asleep. She never woke up, and never ate anything again.
Sometimes life is incredibly cruel. A disease comes, hope rises and falls and hearts break beyond understanding. But…we had that day. Her favorite caregiver (and angel in disguise) said that my little Mama looked at me that day with such love and studied my face like she was trying to memorize me. I remember feeling a little uncomfortable because she was staring so intently at me. She had a soft smile on her face. There was a sweetness in those moments that overcame the suffering and oncoming death of my little Mama. I believe she knew she knew she was leaving. I believe I saw what Heaven is.
I didn’t want her to leave but I did want her to leave her suffering. She thankfully didn’t have any pain that we could tell, but she knew her confusion and helplessness. Dementia patients have good days, but eventually the bad days take over. We avoided most of the bad days and for that I am thankful. I am blessed she knew all of us all the way to the end. I believe God blessed us mightily with her life and her ending.
The last night and morning of her life, I got out a box of old cards and letters about holidays, vacations and golf trips, mostly from people long passed away and some from my brother and me. She saved everything. I read them to her until my voice gave away. I wanted to remind her of what great friendships she had and what a legacy of love she left. I believe she had one foot in Heaven and one on Earth at that time and I believe she heard and remembered.
She had saved a couple of essays I wrote in high school about she and Poppy. I am surprised the paper had not fallen apart and I am glad she kept them. I didn’t remember writing these but they were reminders of how blessed my brother and I are to have had Poppy and Memau as our parents. Truly I believe they were a gift from God to us.
A few minutes before my little Mama passed, her eyes opened really wide and were a beautiful soft milky blue color. A color I had never seen. Her mouth was in the shape of a perfect “O”. I believe she was seeing Heaven for the first time. I know she was.
I believe Poppy took hold of her hand for the final time. This time he didn’t let go.
Blessed beyond measure.
Blessed is the Momma who has a daughter like you and the daughter who has a Momma like yours.