Wednesday, September 23, 2009


It's Far Away Sister's fault. She told me yesterday that she'd had a dream about Dad, and Mom had been in it, too. She dreamed Dad had moved out to live near them (a reasonable wish, given our frustration with the care he is receiving from Doctor and the cluelessness of Brother and Sister.) She said Mom had been in it, too. She'd told Mom she couldn't be in her dream because she was dead. They were both there, though, and healthy. Walking around, looking good, communicating....
So last night I had a dream. I dreamed about Mom. We were back in their old home. Mom was trying to pack for something, and was obsessed with clothes that weren't appropriate (didn't fit, were stained). She was in her stubborn mode, and it was from the time after she lost her ability to talk. She could still her wishes across, of course. But I couldn't reason with her, because she couldn't explain why or what exactly she wanted. It was a weird dream. It was a frustrating dream, and reflected the frustration of her last few years.
When I went to bed last night, I was thinking about Dad. For a while I thought maybe he was dead, and waited for a phone call. The phone call didn't come, and I lay there praying that he would have a peaceful night, a night when he didn't push the call light 18 times in an hour because he was so anxious. Daughter continues to struggle with all of this. Yesterday she finally said in frustration, "I wish he'd just die! I wish in 2 hours he'd be dead!" I think we've all wished it were over. I hate the thought of him struggling to breathe at night. I also know that when it is over, we will all grieve, and we will be surprised by the depth of our grief. We want the suffering to end, but we don't want to be orphans. We want the suffering to end, but we will desperately miss both of our parents. So I begin another day, another day of wondering if this is the day the call will come. Trying to remember exactly when they called to tell me Mom was gone....

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