Marking 8 years since my mother’s death

With each passing year, it becomes more difficult to believe so much times has passed since my mother’s death in 2015. Death has a way of warping time, so one can feel the distance of those elapsed years but also be surprised at the sharp pangs of grief that can arise at random moments.

I made an active choice to stay in the caregiver community after the death of my parents and have no regrets about that, but it does keep the illness and end-of-life memories fresher than perhaps they would be otherwise. What is most disappointing is seeing so many family caregivers dealing with the same bureaucratic roadblocks and healthcare challenges that I experienced.

I’m grateful to be able to share my caregiving story and read the moving accounts of other caregivers.

An unusual thing happened this morning after I published this blog post. As I came down the stairs, arms full of laundry, I turned to a portrait of my mother that hangs on the wall at the top of the staircase. I said, “Hi Mom,” and continued on my way. About an hour later I was in the kitchen when I heard a crash and then something tumbling down the stairs. When I went to see what had fallen, it was the portrait of Mom I had just acknowledged an hour before. Mom was never a subtle communicator. It would be just like her to make a dramatic statement. For now, Mom’s portrait has a new spot in the living room.