Bye bye mom I will miss you so much
Momma begged me to save her before I went.
As a Christian, I think that my duty is to always show forgiveness and understanding. must have faith to see me through, to trust that God has a plan that I may not fully comprehend.
I could discuss how to comprehend God's ways. trusting that we can overcome every adversity with the love of God.
My mother demonstrated these lessons to me via her words and actions. She demonstrated her values by setting a good example for others to follow.
As I type this, I'll act egotistically. I beg God to understand my anguish and hopelessness. that he overlooks my mistakes and accepts me for who I am.
Overall, Mom was a really strong individual. After so many years of caring for children, grandchildren, and church emergencies, she was unfazed by anything. She made me think of the TV character "Grandma Walton" from The Waltons. She was gentle and loving, but at the drop of a hat, she could become a bulldog and take charge. When I was growing up, she served as the enforcer in our home. She was one of those go-to individuals who would complete tasks.
Mom and I would frequently speak on the phone, generally in the evenings. Usually, the calls were only to check in and say "I love you."
But as time passed, I noticed that the calls had changed. My mother started expressing her concerns to me. There was never anything specific, but it was worrying. She eventually started calling me and confessing that she was afraid of loud noises or crowds. It was clear that Mom's temperament and attitude were changing.
She was transitioning from having a sunny outlook and being self-assured to becoming extremely anxious and paranoid.
Mom eventually received an Alzheimer's disease diagnosis. For a checkup, the doctor directed her to the hospital.
Alzheimer's disease is a terrible illness. It accomplishes its nefarious goal by stealthily penetrating the psyche of the person you love and taking their very essence. Their personality, memories, and other traits that help define who they are are taken from them. They are also taken from the people that care about them.
In the psychological lockdown section at the hospital in Leavenworth, I last spoke to my mother.
To see Mom, I entered the locked apartment. She obviously didn't know who I was, as I could tell. She acknowledged me when I asked whether she knew who I was, but she was unable to tell me my name. She appeared to be distressed and anxious. My mother had never before appeared to be out of control to me; this was the first and only occasion.
She wanted to tell me something, but she didn't want others to hear it, so we ended up going to her room. We then proceeded to her room. She locked the door and hurriedly peered out the window. She then turned to face me and started rambling on about a bunch of people who were planning to kidnap both my niece and my little sister. They were going to kill them, she claimed. She was certain that her account was accurate. Because of this terrible circumstance, she was incredibly anxious and stressed.
She informed me that the murderers had made arrangements for her to be kept in the secure facility. She started crying and desperately pleaded with me to help her leave. I assured her that she was secure there and that I was unable to bring her out. I assured her that the team was ready to assist her. She wouldn't accept my story. The employees were working for the murderers.
She was so caught up in her delusion that she was unable to understand what I was trying to tell her. She then started pleading with me to let her go. I kept telling her that I couldn't and that she had to stop being so agitated. She'd be OK.
I was being begged to save the person I loved the most in the entire world. The person who had always been a pillar of stability in my life was now in tears and pleading with me for assistance. The entire scenario was out of this world and unlike anything I had ever seen.
She screamed for me to throw her a rope as she fell into a pit of darkness, but there was none available. I failed to help her. If it's possible, I felt even worse than worthless.
Mom begged me repeatedly to let her go. She grew agitated and louder. A nurse eventually entered to investigate the commotion. Additionally, she attempted to soothe Mom, but Mom was preoccupied with the assailants who were going to steal my sister and niece. I promised Mom I'd look out for them. This reassurance, which I had hoped would make her feel safer, had no effect. Finally, the nurse advised me to leave and return at a later time, when she was more at ease.
I grudgingly consented. My entire body begged for me to assist her. Mom had never looked like this to me. It gave me the creeps. She was no longer in control of reality. She had no idea who I was.
My emotions were all over the place at that time. I was depressed and thought I had let my mother down in some way. That caused me to feel extremely frustrated that I couldn't assist her. I might even have felt angry. Anger at myself for failing to assist mum, but possibly anger at mom as well.
I know that seems horrible to think or say, but I guess I was upset at mum.I had lost her. The mother I had cuddled with as a child had gone. She was the one who always loved me—even in my darkest moments—and whose acceptance and validation I so desperately needed. My worst nightmare has materialized. Momma had abandoned me. That figure I was staring at wasn't my mother.
I slowly turned around and left the space. Following me down the hallway, Mom backed away from the nurse. She persisted in pleading with me to rescue her and get her out. I informed her I was unable.
I turned to face Mom once more as I approached the locked door and murmured, "I love you, momma."
The massive steel door clanked shut as it closed behind me. It made me think of a prison door.
Mom kept banging on the door and pleading with me to help her while I stood there in the hallway. She spent many minutes banging on the door and pleading with me for assistance.
I cried alone as I just stood there in front of the elevator entrance and looked at the unit door. Mom had left. I had the impression that something had torn my soul from me.
I saw photos of family members visiting mum in the nursing home on Facebook. I am aware that they suggested that I also go see her. Maybe my sisters believed I was a bad person for leaving my mother. because she was ignored when she was at the nursing home.
They might be right.
Momma had been banging on the closed door and pleading for aid, but I had to go because I couldn't help her.
I also felt irritated. Mom left me and I'm mad with her. I understand that she didn't do it on purpose or by choice, but this wasn't my mother. She had lost her individuality, her essence, the component that made her my mom. She was only a shell and not mom. Many of us experience the fear of our mother leaving us and the want for her to always be there.
I couldn't bear the shame of abandoning my mother that day while pleading for assistance. In addition, I was unable to deal with my emotions over her departure. I experienced the rage and fear of being abandoned by my mother as a young child.
I was unable to visit someone who appeared to be my mother but was actually someone else in the nursing home. This was my coping strategy and way of preserving myself.
It was an acquired habit. Dad never advocated returning to the previous town or church whenever we relocated. He believed it damaged the new minister's efforts to strengthen their ties to the church and the neighborhood.
As a result, we were no longer there when we relocated. It felt as if I were dropping off the edge of the planet. You vanished. It turned into a coping strategy for me. It helped me cope with the hurt and resentment of separation.
...A few years later, I received word that my mother was in the hospital and wouldn't make it. I went even though I was nervous and feeling conflicted because I thought I should be present when she passed away.
I entered my mother's room, and as I did, one of my sisters turned to face me and said, "I'm surprised to see you here, I thought you were allergic to hospital beds."
Behind that closed hospital door in Leavenworth, Momma had passed away for me. Although it sounds terrible, that was my method of dealing.
I frequently served as a guardian ad litem for people with dementia as part of my employment as an attorney. It was my responsibility to visit the patient in the hospital and then report back to the court on the petition to designate me as their guardian and conservator.
The man begged me to save him on one specific occasion as he accompanied me to the medical unit's entrance. let him return home. He continued to beg to be allowed to go home even after the large oak door closed behind me. My mind was taken back to my mother and that door in Leavenworth.
Being abandoned and not being able to return home was my worst dread in life. When I was little, I dreaded my parents leaving.
I started crying as I made my way back to my car after leaving the hospital gently. I was completely struck with sadness. I'll be honest—after the majority of those trips, I cried. The sensation of hopelessness would come back.
Only God knows how much I love you, Mom, and how that day's events tore my heart apart. the day you begged for my assistance as I saw that door close. God, please pardon me for "letting you go" at that door. I want you to pardon me for saying "Goodbye Momma" and I hope to see you again someday.