Who will I be when you're gone, Mom?
I am not who I was before this journey
I will not be who I am now
I will not be a daughter
I will not be a caregiver
I will be bereft of purpose.
Useless before, I will be useless again
I will be
Nothing
I crave freedom from the Grim Reaper's daily company
I build castles in the sky of all the things I will do when death, your death, has freed me From these chains that shackle me to you
And yet as the journey is coming to a close I grip the chains in terror
Seek to bind them tighter
Fear the abyss of myself, without you, filled with
Nothing
When this home becomes just a house
Stripped naked of your spirit.
Desolate of your warmth, rage, laughter, fear
Before dementia and after
My heart will break from the same abandonment
The emptiness of you
The vast darkness
My own
Nothing
Love you dear friend and sending you and your Mom all the light and peace in these moments.
Oh my dear “Girl,” how beautiful, how absolutely perfect this is! I am right there with you. My mother passed away in November. Although I did not have to deal with the disasters you had over the last couple of weeks, my mother did go into this agitated, paranoid rage for the last month of her life, complete with physical violence when she could muster the strength. Sometimes the agitation kept her from sleeping for 36 hours. Eventually she ended up where your mother is now, in the active dying phase, my sweet mother again. By then, and for a while after her passing, I was exhausted and numb. My sister said I was like a zombie. Then came …
May the peace that passes all understanding find you in your grief and comfort you.