Mom passed away on May 18th, 2014. Losing her is still too fresh to me to forget --- on a daily basis. I knew that we were in her last days and it was Sunday morning. If it were totally up to me I would have went to sit with her instead of getting ready to go to church that morning. No one knows how long one will linger in the last days of life so that morning I slowly got up and began to get ready for church knowing that after service I would be going directly to her side where I knew I would find my sister Kotya too.
Mom had been having trouble breathing that week. She would grab a fistful of her skin on her thigh and pinch-squeeze. That concerned us. I will never know why she did that because in mom's last to at least six or more months she had lost her voice and could not communicate vocally. I had thought of trying to teach her sign language but even that seemed a hard task to attempt. Mom had been diagnosed with dementia. After all the years rubbing elbows with the elderly in different hospitals and assisted home settings since I have been Mom's main support I have come to believe that we all, or many of us, will travel that same forgetting road. It is a rotting world we live in and even the mind will succumb to disease along side the organs and limbs when we also grow old.
Writing is very therapeutic to me.
I used to write a lot here on blogger.com before my life was filled with Mom. She came to us one day after she had left the house her family had built for her. She left one summer day because of my alcoholic brother.
Unless you know the history of Mom's health (which even I at that point was not aware of) you wouldn't realize the feat of wonder it was for her to walk at least two miles to a small country store where she sat down with her old dog Odessa. She said that Odessa had told her that it was time to leave their home after my brother had threatened to hurt them both. (He was drunk.) So Mom and Odessa walked away. That day, via the local police and my sister Mom eventually came to me and Odessa was taken to the dog pound. "She was pretty old," Mom said. "Odessa needed to rest now," she said.
In the first year that I began to help Mom with her life I learned that she had recovered from five strokes all by herself. I can remember how tired she used to be. When I was told that I could understand because I know others that have been hospitalized for one stroke, Mom had five.
I will write more another day.
I love and miss you so much Momma.
Mom was 83