She was lying in the bed, still and quiet. She was dying. My brain knew that time was limited and that the hope for a miracle had dissipated long ago, but I sat there bewildered and conflicted.
She was hanging on, barely, She was fighting through the pain and the impending outcome, for us– her daughters.
I knew what I had to do, but quickly realized that sometimes the right thing is also the hardest thing. Which in reality, makes it feel like an impossible thing. This thing, this task, felt impossible.
I was being forced to tell my mom that it was okay for her to go. Hospice had told us that it was an important step in the process. It made me sick to my stomach. She was only 57. How could I vocalize to my young mother words and actions that felt like bold betrayal to my heart?
This was the harshest battle, the most profound conflict that I’d ever been in and it was taking place at the side of my mother’s deathbed.
Conflicted by a battle for what felt right and what was right. A battle that stemmed from unwavering love and also blind and naive hope. A conflict between what I selfishly wanted and what could actually be. I sat there, invisibly fighting a brutal war in my head. One side aching to change things, to send my pain and wishes to places that could do miraculous things and heal her. The other side, powered by the faith my mother built her life around, and the selfless love she always showed.
Like a game of tug-o-war, eternity was pulling, calling my mother, and I was pulling, desperate for her to stay with me, here on earth.
Like a battle of my mother’s absence in one place and her presence in another, except it was backwards. It was wrong. She was supposed to live longer. We were supposed to be winning this fight.
But we weren’t winning and weren’t going to. My silence in relieving my mother of a continued battle for more time was simply delaying the inevitable and causing her added pain.
So I do the unthinkable. I surrender, so that she can surrender. I wave my white flag to the heavens and while holding my mother’s hand I whisper, “I love you, Mom. You can go. I love you. I always will, forever. Mom, you can go. I love you.”
And in time, she did. She slipped into eternity while I held the harshest betrayal on my heart I’ve ever experienced and I was the one that caused it. I told her she could go, but was silently praying she’d never leave.
I lied for her.
And in the end, my last act of love was letting her go and I just might always hate myself for it.
Omg… So relatable! I lied for her!!!
My mom passed away two months ago, until now I’m still fighting this battle of missing her everyday. Wishing and hoping I could turn back time when she was healthy and alive. I wanted to let her know how much I love her and but I knew it’s impossible to make it happen 💔
My mom passed away two months ago, until now I’m still fighting this battle of missing her everyday. Wishing and hoping I could turn back time when she was healthy and alive. I wanted to let her know how much I love her and but I knew it’s impossible to make it happen 💔
Wow!!! I can totally relate…this exact thing happened to my sister and I – 29 years ago. Now here I sit, 2 1/2 years after losing my sister, the only other one who experienced the loss of our mum. I wish I had more time with my sister to talk more about Mum. Especially reading your beautiful words, it makes me want to talk to my sister even more, to talk about our loss.
THANK YOU!!! Your writing somehow makes me feel and remember them, brightening their light that’s in my heart!
My mom passed away in 2021. I was 27, she was 59. Not even 60 yet. 59 felt incredibly young to me for her to die. I had to tell her it was okay for her to let go, and I lied too. I lied so hard and cried when holding her and telling her it was okay. She had a heart attack, and they said she was brain dead from the loss of oxygen. But there was a musician who was part of hospice. She came in and asked if I would mind if she played a couple songs while I laid with my mom. I told her that was fine. She sang & played “photograph” by Ed Sheeran. That song was forever changed in my life going forward. Even the musician said her eyes opened and were looking over towards me. I felt like I was killing her. I was so conflicted. Her body didn’t go quickly, they kept her on meds but stopped the food & fluids. She stayed alive for another week. Everyday I felt like I was making the worse decision in my life. She always told me she would never want to be kept alive if she was going to be a vegetable or unable to live her life. I knew what her wishes were but I didn’t want to let go. It’s been 4, almost 5 years now I’m living without her and I feel so empty. It never gets easier. My daughters are growing without her, I had a son who she would have absolutely adored. I never stopped needing her. I only think of the day I will see her again.