Not really a question...fast forward 5 years Part 2

As we rounded the holidays in 2019, mom spent more and more time in bed. I worried that Dad was being neglected! In January, I asked mom to go to her doctor for a “scan” - what ever that would be. In early February 2020, her results were in with an urgent message to see her oncologist immediately. Mid February, diagnosis - breast cancer from 2018 spread to liver - 6 months or less - probably much less. I’ll never forget her face-she turned to my sister and I and said “NO TREATMENT-I’m done-I want out.” We went to Roosters, had some shots and toasted her terminal illness. She was so relieved...she had been desperately seeking a way out of her life as a full time caregiver-a life where she had completely lost her own identity. Her impending death was her ticket out. 2020 was supposed to be a happy year, her 2 grandsons were getting married, her first great grandchild on the way. She had no fight left in her. Of course, we called in hospice for support. While talking with the nurse and social worker about what we were facing as a family, my dad’s main concern was about his VA benefits and how this hospice thing would affect them. He continually interjected with his own health issues and wondered out loud how the hospice team could help him with his medical issues (because Carol hadn’t been able to take care of him lately). As the days went on, we experienced her rapid decline. Dad spent most of the time in his room with the tv blasting, occasionally coming out to turn the thermostat up to 86 degrees (even though we had asked him to leave it at 74) because mom was uncomfortable in a hot house. My mom’s sisters came for a visit (to see their sister for the last time) and we COULDN’T KEEP Dad in his room. He insisted on being right at the table in his huge wheelchair, talking about himself, asking mom random questions and to cut up his food for him - anything to get her attention and to make it about him. My husband and I had a trip to Texas to visit our son planned for over a year. It was debatable about whether or not I should go. Earlier, mom had insisted I go. I laid with her in bed and cried and said I was going. That was goodbye. I came home early from Texas to find mom very agitated - getting out of bed, falling, aggressive. She would sit straight up and scream “why am I still heeeeeeeere?” I know why - she had to forgive my dad before she could leave this earth. After 2 nights of terror with her, falling, screaming, hospice started her on the cocktail. Friday afternoon, after several doses, she finally calms down, falls into a coma like state and never gets up again. I spent Friday night playing Canadian Sunset and reading scripture to her while the “death rattle” went on for hours. Dad stayed in his room. My sister and I gave her medicine through a syringe, listening for the tiny gulp as she swallowed it, sponging off the goo and foam coming out of her mouth. We did the hard stuff. Dad stayed in his room. On Saturday, hospice came out and cleaned mom up a bit. She looked pretty good and Dad finally came out of his room. Of course, we helped him be by her side for awhile. On Saturday night at about 10:20 pm, my sister and I glanced at the ‘mommy cam’. Her chest was no longer heaving and we ran to her room. She was gone and I couldn’t handle that I wasn’t with her. I crawled in bed with her. I was relieved, destroyed, happy and numb. I watched for a while, while the blood pooled to the side of her beautiful face. My mommy is gone. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way - she had so much left. I’m so angry at my dad. In my mind, he killed her. In 2 hours, it will be 4 months since she died. I am a hot mess. I have seen my dad twice (very brief). I have nothing to say to him. My sister has been killing herself taking care of him, trying to work and be a wife to her husband. She has turned into mom. I cannot bear the thought of losing her too. That’s another post. COVID lockdown came on the heels of her death-she must have known