Oh, Jody. I'm so sorry on the one hand and yet, that gift at the end ... Anyway: you gave me a Sunday morning cry, especially because I couldn't be with my own mother at the end because of the pandemic and my illness. Sending you a big hug and wishing you the richest and most transformative of griefs.
Thank you for your tears dear Sharon; they have released mine too. I'm so sorry you couldn't be there for your mother when she died. From what you've shared of your childhood experiences, there are many similarities with mine; loving them and being loved by them was hard and fierce. Your hugs received and given to you too. Jody x
Thank you for letting us bear witness to this turn in the journey, for your mother and for you. Your compassion and your keen insights shine through in your writing. You bring light into places that are, for many of us, murky and frightening, and it's a gift to read your words about attending your mother through the end of life. I'm sorry for your loss, and am holding space in my heart for you as you continue on your path through this time of transformation.
Thank you so much for appreciating what I've shared. It was a very tender thing to write and share and I still feel quite wobbly having it out 'in the world'. However, it felt too transformational to keep to myself... Thank you for the space you are holding for me, I really appreciate your kindness. Hugs, Jody x
My heart goes out to your yours. Losing a parent is so difficult no matter the age. Memories start flooding the brain, slowly at first then so fast. The years fly faster yet slowly. Small moments shared and the giant thought of How will I remember this or who will I ask about that. Death is so FINAL.
My mother died from dementia as well. Hers was the ugly kind. The hallucinations were so real to her, yet never logical to my sisters or me. We tried telling her they were not real. In one of her lucid moments she said to me THEY ARE REAL TO ME!
We were not close for a lot of reasons. I left home at - 17. Married at 18 and lived in different states throughout the years. Even with those circumstances-I would never have wanted this for her.
She did not know who I was near the end but I understood the torment she went through.
Let yourself grieve. Never blame yourself for anything. Let those good memories flow and know a Mother’s love is like nothing else.
I am so very sorry Pamela to hear how tortured your mother's dementia was, that sounds absolutely awful. I think my mother's repeated strokes meant that she died quite quickly (by dementia standards), from the beginning of it becoming life-limiting and obvious to her death 5 years later. I left home at 16 and although closeness was never a safe option for me around her, I loved her deeply, and she loved me as much as she could. It's interesting what you say about the memories... I'm definitely experiencing more and more of them! Sending peace and hugs to you too. xxx
Jody, this is beautiful and stunning and so poignant. I love the way you include all the details about the staff at the care center, about your sandwich and the TV as you waited for the end, about your mother's beautiful skin color fading. And so much more, especially your description of her as an "intensely defended woman." My mother died at almost 92, almost exactly a year ago and, unfortunately, I couldn't be with her. She and I had had a complicated relationship, not close and not especially warm. Still, I wanted to hold her hand and, as you put it, look clearly into her eyes. We still had a lot to talk about, although I don't know if that would have been possible because she was very deaf. Your lovely piece of writing offers me so much to think about. Thank you!
My dear Debbie, I'm so sorry for the loss of your mother a year ago. I'm beginning to think there's no such thing as an UNcomplicated mother-daughter relationships, but some are definitely more painful than others... I'm sorry you weren't able to be with her at the end, and say those things that will forever be left unsaid. At the end, all that was left between my mother and I was love; love beyond words; love beyond our bodies; love beyond time. It was an act of grace and healing for us both that healed so much, and set me free from so many 'stories' about myself, my mother and our life together, this time around... Big hugs, Jody x
I just love reading your essays. This one is beautiful. I'm so sorry for your loss, but glad you made peace with your mother. Be kind to yourself. Grief is hard, sometimes harder than you expect. I think too many of us are afraid to cry and we feel compelled to apologize when we do—either because we're embarrassed because we think it makes us look weak, or because we're afraid we're making the people around us uncomfortable. People who care about you and understand grief will not care that you are crying; they will understand and they will comfort you if that's what you need. Surround yourself with those people.
Thanks Debby for your support, and also for your kind words about my writing. I agree that we live in a culture that does not understand grief and could even be described as grief-phobic! Hugs, Jody x
Thank you Stephanie. Yes, the ending has changed everything that went before too. I am at peace with our fraught and fractured lifetime together; I hope she is too x
To be present at one's Mother's death is transformative. There are gifts exchanged in both directions in that last moment. I am still, seven years later, comforted by the memory of that sacred moment, and I hope you will always feel it too.
That is so good to know Jo, thanks. I do feel so much more at peace with her death than I expected to. I guess I'd done a lot of my grieving as she declined with dementia, letting go of my fantasy that one day we would have the kind of relationship that I wanted/needed. But then in the end, it was her dementia, and being there at her death that enabled a kind of connection that we'd never had before, and that, I hope, will stay with me forever. I'm so comforted by your experience, thank you for sharing it.
I lost my dad to dementia 8 years before my mom died. It is a slow torturous grief that I had to keep fighting with every loss. I kept telling myself not to grieve while he was still with us, but it was so hard not to.
The 'ambiguous loss' that dementia can create for those around them is a form of grief in itself, and a very painful one: when someone is physically present but psychologically more and more absent. Sending big hugs x
I’m so sorry. Wishing you comfort. My mother is also in a memory care home. She has dementia and has had minor strokes. I see her weekly, but the visits get harder as she’s not sure where she is and doesn’t understand why I’m there. I know you’re feeling grief but I hope you’re also allowing yourself to feel some relief that her journey is done. Thank you for sharing this.
I'm so sorry that you and your mother are also taking this journey. She'd had enough of living in a failing body, I knew that and she knew that. I feel a deep poignancy for what could have been in our relationship had it been possible for her to let me in, but grateful she was able to in the end, and that I was there for her (and me) and the end. I'm at peace; I hope she is. x
“..... Had it been possible for her to let me in” - perfect words, Jody thank you- that is the most poignant part of the pain I’ve felt since my mother died and was what I really wanted....xxx
Well, it is official, you've garnished tears from my eyes twice today! I lost my father to dementia and we too had a difficult relationship. The most gentle he'd ever be in his life were the years he lost himself to the disease. Witnessing you, your grief, and the reckoning that is reflecting upon our parental relationships. Thank you for sharing this, even if it was a handful of months ago, I'm grateful to find solace in your words. ❤️
I'm sorry that my pain touches your pain, and also hope that in doing so a little bit of it is released by being witnessed. I found my mother's gentleness heartbreakingly painful at first; it made me so sad for what could have been, had she been able to allow it before... I'm so sad it took dementia to let her relax and open herself to those around her, even her own daughter... Hugs to you too for experiencing something similar, and to your father too. Not every parent/child gets to witness this 'golden shadow' as Jung would have called it, emerge. Witnessing my mum's changed me profoundly, and the grace of it will stay with me forever I reckon xxx
Tears. What a vulnerable, heart opening, transformative experience. To feel that our parents loved us--even though in life they were not able to give us enough of what we needed from them--even though they may never have even spoken those words--brings such peace, and healing, when all is said and done. It may be one of the gifts of aging, the ability to hold the contradictions and complexities in our hearts and love anyway. That you gave your mother this gift and that she was able to return it as she could is so moving.
Thank you so much for 'getting it' Carmine. Two months on from her death, the peace of that moment is still with me and the gift of it just seems to grow. And yes, holding the complexities and ambiguities of the human experience can be a gift of growing older. Hugs, Jody x
"...my unmothered mother..." Of all your beautiful words, Jody, those three hit my heart the hardest. I have an unmothered mother too. It makes for a complicated life. I too am watching our roles reverse. Thank you for this moving reflection.
Hi Caroline - those of daughters of unmothered mothers recognise the unique complexities of this position. Sending you love for that time of role reversal; I didn't get to experience very much of it as it she found it very hard to receive my love and tenderness right up until the last year of her life. It was a strange and beautiful gift to receive from the rubble of dementia. Sending you love xxx
Gratefully received, Jody. I'm full of thanks for the loving relationship my mother and I share now, but there were some challenging times. Thank you again for your openness..
Beautiful story of your last moments with your mother. Mine died just over a year ago and I’ve written a few pieces as I work through the grief. We, too, had a difficult relationship. And even though she often disagreed with my path, she was my biggest supporter toward the end of her life. It’s important for me to remember those tender moments as a way to lessen my quilt or regret for things I did not do or say.
I find that now my mother is gone, and cannot hurt, betray or disappoint me anymore, it is easier to love her, easier to remember the good moments too. And there were some, you're right, it's important to hang on to those. Sending hugs, Jody x
Oh, Jody. I'm so sorry on the one hand and yet, that gift at the end ... Anyway: you gave me a Sunday morning cry, especially because I couldn't be with my own mother at the end because of the pandemic and my illness. Sending you a big hug and wishing you the richest and most transformative of griefs.
Thank you for your tears dear Sharon; they have released mine too. I'm so sorry you couldn't be there for your mother when she died. From what you've shared of your childhood experiences, there are many similarities with mine; loving them and being loved by them was hard and fierce. Your hugs received and given to you too. Jody x
Thank you for letting us bear witness to this turn in the journey, for your mother and for you. Your compassion and your keen insights shine through in your writing. You bring light into places that are, for many of us, murky and frightening, and it's a gift to read your words about attending your mother through the end of life. I'm sorry for your loss, and am holding space in my heart for you as you continue on your path through this time of transformation.
Thank you so much for appreciating what I've shared. It was a very tender thing to write and share and I still feel quite wobbly having it out 'in the world'. However, it felt too transformational to keep to myself... Thank you for the space you are holding for me, I really appreciate your kindness. Hugs, Jody x
My heart goes out to your yours. Losing a parent is so difficult no matter the age. Memories start flooding the brain, slowly at first then so fast. The years fly faster yet slowly. Small moments shared and the giant thought of How will I remember this or who will I ask about that. Death is so FINAL.
My mother died from dementia as well. Hers was the ugly kind. The hallucinations were so real to her, yet never logical to my sisters or me. We tried telling her they were not real. In one of her lucid moments she said to me THEY ARE REAL TO ME!
We were not close for a lot of reasons. I left home at - 17. Married at 18 and lived in different states throughout the years. Even with those circumstances-I would never have wanted this for her.
She did not know who I was near the end but I understood the torment she went through.
Let yourself grieve. Never blame yourself for anything. Let those good memories flow and know a Mother’s love is like nothing else.
Peace to your heart & virtual hugs 😘🌹
I am so very sorry Pamela to hear how tortured your mother's dementia was, that sounds absolutely awful. I think my mother's repeated strokes meant that she died quite quickly (by dementia standards), from the beginning of it becoming life-limiting and obvious to her death 5 years later. I left home at 16 and although closeness was never a safe option for me around her, I loved her deeply, and she loved me as much as she could. It's interesting what you say about the memories... I'm definitely experiencing more and more of them! Sending peace and hugs to you too. xxx
Jody, this is beautiful and stunning and so poignant. I love the way you include all the details about the staff at the care center, about your sandwich and the TV as you waited for the end, about your mother's beautiful skin color fading. And so much more, especially your description of her as an "intensely defended woman." My mother died at almost 92, almost exactly a year ago and, unfortunately, I couldn't be with her. She and I had had a complicated relationship, not close and not especially warm. Still, I wanted to hold her hand and, as you put it, look clearly into her eyes. We still had a lot to talk about, although I don't know if that would have been possible because she was very deaf. Your lovely piece of writing offers me so much to think about. Thank you!
My dear Debbie, I'm so sorry for the loss of your mother a year ago. I'm beginning to think there's no such thing as an UNcomplicated mother-daughter relationships, but some are definitely more painful than others... I'm sorry you weren't able to be with her at the end, and say those things that will forever be left unsaid. At the end, all that was left between my mother and I was love; love beyond words; love beyond our bodies; love beyond time. It was an act of grace and healing for us both that healed so much, and set me free from so many 'stories' about myself, my mother and our life together, this time around... Big hugs, Jody x
I just love reading your essays. This one is beautiful. I'm so sorry for your loss, but glad you made peace with your mother. Be kind to yourself. Grief is hard, sometimes harder than you expect. I think too many of us are afraid to cry and we feel compelled to apologize when we do—either because we're embarrassed because we think it makes us look weak, or because we're afraid we're making the people around us uncomfortable. People who care about you and understand grief will not care that you are crying; they will understand and they will comfort you if that's what you need. Surround yourself with those people.
Thanks Debby for your support, and also for your kind words about my writing. I agree that we live in a culture that does not understand grief and could even be described as grief-phobic! Hugs, Jody x
Beautiful. Mother-daughter relationships can be fraught with so much hurt. I’m sorry for your loss, but grateful you had a beautiful farewell.
Thank you Stephanie. Yes, the ending has changed everything that went before too. I am at peace with our fraught and fractured lifetime together; I hope she is too x
To be present at one's Mother's death is transformative. There are gifts exchanged in both directions in that last moment. I am still, seven years later, comforted by the memory of that sacred moment, and I hope you will always feel it too.
That is so good to know Jo, thanks. I do feel so much more at peace with her death than I expected to. I guess I'd done a lot of my grieving as she declined with dementia, letting go of my fantasy that one day we would have the kind of relationship that I wanted/needed. But then in the end, it was her dementia, and being there at her death that enabled a kind of connection that we'd never had before, and that, I hope, will stay with me forever. I'm so comforted by your experience, thank you for sharing it.
I lost my dad to dementia 8 years before my mom died. It is a slow torturous grief that I had to keep fighting with every loss. I kept telling myself not to grieve while he was still with us, but it was so hard not to.
The 'ambiguous loss' that dementia can create for those around them is a form of grief in itself, and a very painful one: when someone is physically present but psychologically more and more absent. Sending big hugs x
I’m so sorry. Wishing you comfort. My mother is also in a memory care home. She has dementia and has had minor strokes. I see her weekly, but the visits get harder as she’s not sure where she is and doesn’t understand why I’m there. I know you’re feeling grief but I hope you’re also allowing yourself to feel some relief that her journey is done. Thank you for sharing this.
I'm so sorry that you and your mother are also taking this journey. She'd had enough of living in a failing body, I knew that and she knew that. I feel a deep poignancy for what could have been in our relationship had it been possible for her to let me in, but grateful she was able to in the end, and that I was there for her (and me) and the end. I'm at peace; I hope she is. x
“..... Had it been possible for her to let me in” - perfect words, Jody thank you- that is the most poignant part of the pain I’ve felt since my mother died and was what I really wanted....xxx
Well, it is official, you've garnished tears from my eyes twice today! I lost my father to dementia and we too had a difficult relationship. The most gentle he'd ever be in his life were the years he lost himself to the disease. Witnessing you, your grief, and the reckoning that is reflecting upon our parental relationships. Thank you for sharing this, even if it was a handful of months ago, I'm grateful to find solace in your words. ❤️
I'm sorry that my pain touches your pain, and also hope that in doing so a little bit of it is released by being witnessed. I found my mother's gentleness heartbreakingly painful at first; it made me so sad for what could have been, had she been able to allow it before... I'm so sad it took dementia to let her relax and open herself to those around her, even her own daughter... Hugs to you too for experiencing something similar, and to your father too. Not every parent/child gets to witness this 'golden shadow' as Jung would have called it, emerge. Witnessing my mum's changed me profoundly, and the grace of it will stay with me forever I reckon xxx
Tears. What a vulnerable, heart opening, transformative experience. To feel that our parents loved us--even though in life they were not able to give us enough of what we needed from them--even though they may never have even spoken those words--brings such peace, and healing, when all is said and done. It may be one of the gifts of aging, the ability to hold the contradictions and complexities in our hearts and love anyway. That you gave your mother this gift and that she was able to return it as she could is so moving.
Thank you so much for 'getting it' Carmine. Two months on from her death, the peace of that moment is still with me and the gift of it just seems to grow. And yes, holding the complexities and ambiguities of the human experience can be a gift of growing older. Hugs, Jody x
And thank you for your tears too xx
Hugs x
A gift given , therapy for those who weren’t or couldn’t be there. Colors from your box of crayons , just lovely Jody...🫶
Oh what a beautiful comment Patricia, thank you! (And I'm sorry I didn't see it until now...) xxx
Oh Jody I'm so sorry. I'm sending you love.
Thank you Jo x
"...my unmothered mother..." Of all your beautiful words, Jody, those three hit my heart the hardest. I have an unmothered mother too. It makes for a complicated life. I too am watching our roles reverse. Thank you for this moving reflection.
Hi Caroline - those of daughters of unmothered mothers recognise the unique complexities of this position. Sending you love for that time of role reversal; I didn't get to experience very much of it as it she found it very hard to receive my love and tenderness right up until the last year of her life. It was a strange and beautiful gift to receive from the rubble of dementia. Sending you love xxx
Gratefully received, Jody. I'm full of thanks for the loving relationship my mother and I share now, but there were some challenging times. Thank you again for your openness..
This is beautiful Jody ❤️😔
Thank you so much Elizabeth x
Wow, this is so beautiful. "We stayed in that mist together for what felt like an eternity" is tenderly and beautifully profound.
Thank you so much Mary; that moment has stayed with me, I hope it always will. xx
Beautiful story of your last moments with your mother. Mine died just over a year ago and I’ve written a few pieces as I work through the grief. We, too, had a difficult relationship. And even though she often disagreed with my path, she was my biggest supporter toward the end of her life. It’s important for me to remember those tender moments as a way to lessen my quilt or regret for things I did not do or say.
Death, a common thread that binds us all.
I find that now my mother is gone, and cannot hurt, betray or disappoint me anymore, it is easier to love her, easier to remember the good moments too. And there were some, you're right, it's important to hang on to those. Sending hugs, Jody x