We first understood that my mom was seriously ill on Christmas Eve, 2021. In 2022 she experienced two hospital stays – one very long after which they sent her home without hope. Two months later, in March, during one of my frequent visits to Pennsylvania, we took mom back to the hospital, knowing the signs were not good. Despite the many reasons this surgery was extremely high risk, she came through. She adapted to her new lifestyle and flourished.
June 2022
In January 2023, I spent ten days with mom and dad. The day I left, mom fell and broke her hip. She recovered beautifully from the hip replacement. However, during her time in the hospital, they discovered that mom had stage 4, fast-moving cancer with an estimated four to six weeks to live.
Mom and Charlie February 2023
My brothers (one from Texas and one from PA) and I took up residence as mom entered hospice at home. Hannah made the trip with me and spent a week before she had to return home. That was a wonderful week, bebopping about on shopping trips and planning fun meals. The diagnosis was hard to believe – things seemed so normal. Until they weren’t.
I kept a short journal of these last weeks. Highlights from the day. Movies we watched. Stories about the jewelry, artwork, and family pieces we explored. All too soon, she started slipping away. Hospice had prepared us well for what to expect.
After two days of mom being unresponsive and agitated, on the morning of March 15, as I came in from the garage, mom said, “Hi,” eyes clear for the first time in days. Surprised, I wandered over to her family room bed and sat beside her. I asked how she was. She motioned that her throat hurt. With clarity, she said, “I want water.” After giving her a sip, where she drank heavily for the first time in days, I asked if I could get her anything.
“Food,” she said. I offered black raspberry ice cream, and she nodded with a gleam in her eye. She ate the entire scoop of ice cream. This after days of eating nothing or taking just a few bites. I cried as I sat there feeding her. She looked at me and asked, “what’s wrong?” I told her that I was just sad that she was sick. It was all I could get out. I told her that I loved her. She whispered in her sore, tiny voice, “I love you.”
A little while later, she pointed and said, “Susan, the light.” I followed her gaze and saw the morning light through the back slider door. I asked if it was too bright – if she wanted me to pull the blinds. Rather, she said, “it’s pretty.”
This was our last conversation. This little window of “terminal lucidity,” as hospice calls it, lasted maybe an hour. I was so very grateful for this last conversation. And so sad that I was the only one to experience it just because I happened to be with her at that moment.
This blog is my happy place. It’s where I share what brings me joy. I don’t dwell on the trouble in the world, the sadness in my heart, or things I cannot change. Yet, this is a moment in time that I never want to forget. Mom passed two days later, in the early hours of March 17th.
My last selfie with mom.
Nancy Ruth Jordan
November 28, 1939 – March 17, 2023
After almost two months away, I’m now home in Maine, nursing a broken heart over the loss of my mother and having left my father in Pennsylvania – such a hard thing to do. I want to rest a bit and, when ready, embrace all that is wonderful and healing about home in Maine.
How beautiful that you were present for that last lucid time and that you could help her share such a sense-intense experience with the ice cream. The chill of the ice cream, the beautiful color of it, the smell of the black raspberries and the burst of taste in each spoonful – what a marvelous memory for both of you. Blessings and purrs to you and your family in your grief. I hope that spring in Maine can help your healing process.
So very sorry for your loss…I know from my own experience that the pain never leaves you but the pain is the price we pay for the love we had for those no longer with us. My Mum passed not knowing who we were, we actually ‘lost’ her 4 years earlier after suffering from Vascular Dementia. Those 4 years were the worst of mine and my sister’s lives…..We were actually relieved when she passed and the guilt of feeling that way is still with us. I hope you can get some comfort from being with your mum and remembering her last words brings you some comfort.
Thank you for sharing such an honest portrayal of your mom’s decline and death. I’m glad you had hospice staff to prepare you for what to expect. Death is rarely as portrayed on TV and many people are afraid of the reality. My heart aches that I was NOT with my parents at their deaths. May Spring back in Maine help you as you eat with the grief of the loss of your mom, and your concern for your dad. Take care.
Praying for you and your family as you grieve the loss of your mother.
No words possible
I went through something very similar with my Mom. Hugs to you and your family. Your reunion with Gidget was the sweetest thing ever. And you are such a loving daughter.
It is a privilege (oddly enough) to be present with one that we love as they pass on. I too was with my mother when she took her last breaths. I recognize the bruises on hands and the loving last words of love. Prayers and peaceful blessings for you all.
Dear Susan,
I am sorry to read about your mom’s illness and passing. You and your family did a wonderful job of nurturing her. Time and love are the most important gifts you can give.
Thank you for all of your wonderful patterns. My 10 year old Grandniece is just learning how to sew and I am sending her felt patterns, two of which are modifications your patterns: the Feathery Felt Barn Owl and the Bumble Bee. I am working on the Barn Owl and I just sent a Bumble Bee to her this morning. The Bee is her Spirit Animal, so I am sure she will love it! I cut out the felt for her and do any of the intricate sewing.
If you want to see my versions, please email me. I think you are quite amazing!
I’m so sorry for your loss. But also happy that you and your Mom had such a beautiful relationship for so many years. Losing our Moms is always too soon, no matter our ages. She will live forever in the memories of her family. Blessings to you all as you move on without her physical presence.
Beautiful tribute to your mum. Hold onto the joy during this dark and difficult time. So sorry for your loss ❤❤❤
My sympathy. Death is such a spiritual thing. There is an ache left that cannot be quenched by life on this side. Yet, God holds our hearts as we struggle to understand and we feel the pain of such a profound loss.
In Jesus.
Betty L
I am sorry for your loss. It is never easy watching a parent struggle with an illness, but your presence must have eased your mom’s journey. To be present with someone you love when their situation is so hard… that’s love. Ram Dass said we’re all here just to walk each other home, and that’s just what you did. Peace and healing to you.
You wrote such a beautiful tribute that just flowed with the love your family shared. Thank you for sharing your heart and may the beautiful moments you shared bring you joy, as they are a trasure.
God Bless you and your family
My heart joins you, i know this loss, and it will linger. The joy of little things the memories they help us carry on. And carry on we shall. If you need anything just ask
I am so sorry for your loss. We lost my mother-in-law in December. Your experience sounds so familiar. (November we lost our 16 year old dog.) I am sending all my love.
I am so sorry to hear of your loss, but how beautiful you were there to share and remember the special time you shared with her.
It’s so difficult to lose a parent at any age. It’s such a blessing that you were with her in her last moments and she was aware❤️. I completely understand. I was 30 when my mom died from cancer a few days before Mother’s Day.
Oh Susan, I’m so sorry to read this. I’ll be praying for your family.
Such a sweet memorial to a life well lived. Thank you for sharing such a personal journey with us.
I’m sorry for the loss of your mom. You have good memories of her and your life with her and your dad. I hope they help you through your grief at her death. Thinking of you.
A beautiful post about your mom’s last days. So very similar to my mother-in-law’s last days. She would not eat for any of her children. But when the grandchildren came in to visit, it was like she wasn’t even sick. She was so happy to see them and they got her to eat some ice cream. Over many years, I have lost both of my parents in the month of March, my mother-in-law in the month of March, my grandmother in the month of March. March is a tough month.
Take care and thank you for sharing this story.
Thank you, Kathleen. It’s a tough month for me now as well.
Oh, so much loss in your family. I am so sorry.
My heart and prayers are with you and your family. I lost my Mom 14 years ago and I still miss her so much! I too was able to be with her when she passed and I still feel her hand in mine!
Take care Susan, my deepest sympathy to you and your family. Marylou
Oh my goodness, I just left a note on your Charley Parker chickadee pattern page about my bird stitching obsession since my mother died at the end of March- and now I realize it was just 10 days after you lost yours. Like you I had the sweet blessing of being with her as she died. My mother’s last words to me were “why do you keep telling me to go to sleep?” which still amuses me and I’m sad. So very sad. I keep waiting for it to get easier. I keep wanting to pick up the phone to hear her voice again, to share something, to ask questions. My mother also had terminal cancer but she didn’t get the opportunity to die from that as Covid took her out first. She recovered from the double pneumonia and pleurisy but she never regained an appetite and her body started shutting down. Once she became aware that she was dying and I called in hospice it went very quickly. Hospice is wonderful. I share your pain. Your bird patterns are helping me grieve. As I stitch birds (using her old clothing and quilting fabric scraps) I am gaining some peace. Thank you for the gift of a project.