My mother died, kind of suddenly

linux.poet said:

She died in my arms yesterday. Technically me and my dad were caring for her when it happened, the two of us in our living room holding her up. She was talking to us, but it was incoherent and I couldn’t figure out what she was trying to say. What I remember is my last words to her:

“I’m here. I’m going to hold you up. It’s going to be okay.” I was holding her back up while she was in her hospital bed that hospice had given us, trying to be emotionally supportive (as well as physically supportive). Perhaps she took that as permission to leave us.

Still, this was not a peaceful death, it was an ugly one with full code CPR, paramedics, trip to the hospital, and water on the floor of our house (thankfully we have tile flooring). I think she died protesting the care my dad was trying to give her and he was asking for my help with, at least the snatches I was able to catch in the middle of the largely incoherent vocalizations. At least she’s home in heaven now and not suffering from dyspraxia, anxiety, abuse, or awful stage 4 rectal cancer anymore.

Still, despite the prelude thread about the cancer, this came as a bit of a shock. My mother was walking up the stairs on Monday and talking normally on Tuesday to make her own hospice care decisions, and now on Friday she’s dead. In addition, none of us expected rectal cancer to show up about 6 months ago and have it just take her away at 68. The Lord Jesus had mercy on her, and just wanted her home with Him. In spite of the aforementioned trials, my mother was a kind and thoughtful person who raised me and my brother in the nurture and admonition of the Lord and always had a listening ear for us to talk. She prayed for us and encouraged us in both memorizing scripture and study of God’s Word. She was a welcome presence at the Bible studies she attended due to her keen Scriptural intellect, and she was the beloved greeter at the door or our church who knew everyone’s names. I have no question in my mind about her belief in Christ and her eternal destination. She’s at home with our Lord now. The best part is, when she comes back in her glorified body, the dyspraxia and the fear of misunderstanding and danger that it has put her through will be gone. There will be no more terrified exclamations of “I can’t do this!” For the first time ever, she is actually okay. The Lord was kind enough to give me the right words to say.

I think what I am grieved over the most is that her death was as hard as her life. Almost a week ago my mom told me “I think I am ready to go home. I’m tired of being trapped in this body.” The dyspraxia would do that on its own, and the loss of mobility due to weakness from the cancer + dyspraxia was really bad. Ironically dying is giving her rest from this relentless suffering and a form of spiritual victory:





* * *

My younger brother (who lives with us) was at a theology class for the men of our church when this happened. I didn’t know where he was, but I saw him walk out the door with his Bible and notebook, so I knew that he was at church. And when I called him, he didn’t answer his phone.

I actually called a church friend of ours to find out what church events were happening that evening, and she was able to talk to her husband who talked to my brother and got him to answer the phone. I also called our pastor as well because he knows what events are happening, and it turns out he was teaching the class my brother was in. Whoops. I apologized for interrupting his class. He told me that this was more important.

Because I needed to get ahold of my brother and make some more phone calls, I stayed at home after the paramedics took my mom away and my dad left to follow the ambulance to the hospital. That was one of my best decisions. I wanted to be alone in my own home to talk about our family's private business with our local church people, not be in a hospital where strangers would have to hear me talking loudly into my phone. Taking the time to be alone and work the phones was what I needed to do. When my dad called me to tell me that my mom was dead and the hospital had confirmed it, I was able to receive the news in my own house by myself instead of having a bunch of other people around. I was able to finish all of the phone calls that I felt I needed to make before driving over to the hospital.

I was able to drive over to the hospital in my own car. While my name has been on the title for over 2 years now and I've been driving it around exclusively for longer than that, my dad originally bought the car for my mom and she drove it around to take me and my brother to Awana and church for as long as she owned it. It's truly my car now. The other gift I received was the 15-minute drive, which gave me some more alone time and a cue for my body that it was back in control of itself. If I had gone with my father to the hospital immediately, I could have sent my nervous system into a spiral. My dad needed to be with her; I needed to be at home.

I just want to thank everyone who prayed for my mother and family in the other thread, because your prayers were effective and the Lord was faithful to be with me through this trial, helping me to reach out to people in the Body of Christ, providing people that me and my family needed through this whole experience, and helping me make good decisions that will help me recover. Even though the Lord choose to take her home, no prayer has been in vain.

* * *

The theology class incident was a blessing in disguise, because one of my father’s male friends from church was able to be there with my dad while we were in my mother’s hospital room after her death, and that helped him because he was able to talk him through my dad's specific kind of grief, which is different from what me and my brother are experiencing. My father wants us to pray with him and I think that’s okay for now. He’s clearly shattered and expressing grief in the typical wave intervals.

There wasn't really much for me at the hospital, except for reinforcement for my dad's plan to cremate my mom. That body was awful. Burn it.

But it was helpful for my dad to be there and hold her hand for one last time before pulling the blanket over her head himself. It was helpful for me to see that.

Prayer would be appreciated for my father (Mark) who has just lost his wife. This loss has hit him the hardest. Me and my brother lost our mother, and many in our church have lost a very kind friend and spiritual supporter. I've let people from our church tell us their memories of my mother and I'm hoping to respond with prayer. It helps me to get support from other people when I'm going through something, and sometimes caring for other people is the way to help one's system process a loss. I'm going to talk at my mom's memorial service, so praying for strength for me and my dad and my brother as we prepare for that. We all want to talk.

But the purpose of this thread is more in line with this verse:



Okay maybe I needed to vent some too by writing the story down, because writing things down is how I process things. But seriously, my intellectual brain is interested in providing some spiritual edification to those who chose to read this. May the Lord watch over you and your loved ones and give you peace.

As for me, it will take some time for the crying spells to stop, especially around my dad whose grief will trigger my grief and bring it all back around. May the Lord guard me from arrogance, even for a person like me who has had to process numerous losses and learned how to do it before this, there is still an impact. There is nothing to do but wait for the chemicals to drain from my body and let my brain acknowledge what my body is feeling until the chemicals have drained. Otherwise I will end up giving myself a panic attack. My mind knows that my mother is with the Lord, which is far better, and now I just to bring my body around to accept that truth by telling it I'm okay, and eventually it will listen to me. I don't know how long that it will take, but I will stay with it until the end. Because my body is strong and supple, and moves smoothly and fluidly through the air, unlike my mother's previous stiff movements. It's worth sticking with for a bit longer to serve God and reach people for Him. One (smooth fluid) step at a time, but I still need to hold His hand.

If you got this far, thank you for reading.

Click to expand...

linux.poet said:

She died in my arms yesterday. Technically me and my dad were caring for her when it happened, the two of us in our living room holding her up. She was talking to us, but it was incoherent and I couldn’t figure out what she was trying to say. What I remember is my last words to her:

“I’m here. I’m going to hold you up. It’s going to be okay.” I was holding her back up while she was in her hospital bed that hospice had given us, trying to be emotionally supportive (as well as physically supportive). Perhaps she took that as permission to leave us.

Still, this was not a peaceful death, it was an ugly one with full code CPR, paramedics, trip to the hospital, and water on the floor of our house (thankfully we have tile flooring). I think she died protesting the care my dad was trying to give her and he was asking for my help with, at least the snatches I was able to catch in the middle of the largely incoherent vocalizations. At least she’s home in heaven now and not suffering from dyspraxia, anxiety, abuse, or awful stage 4 rectal cancer anymore.

Still, despite the prelude thread about the cancer, this came as a bit of a shock. My mother was walking up the stairs on Monday and talking normally on Tuesday to make her own hospice care decisions, and now on Friday she’s dead. In addition, none of us expected rectal cancer to show up about 6 months ago and have it just take her away at 68. The Lord Jesus had mercy on her, and just wanted her home with Him. In spite of the aforementioned trials, my mother was a kind and thoughtful person who raised me and my brother in the nurture and admonition of the Lord and always had a listening ear for us to talk. She prayed for us and encouraged us in both memorizing scripture and study of God’s Word. She was a welcome presence at the Bible studies she attended due to her keen Scriptural intellect, and she was the beloved greeter at the door of our church who knew everyone’s names. I have no question in my mind about her belief in Christ and her eternal destination. She’s at home with our Lord now. The best part is, when she comes back in her glorified body, the dyspraxia and the fear of misunderstanding and danger that it has put her through will be gone. There will be no more terrified exclamations of “I can’t do this!” For the first time ever, she is actually okay. The Lord was kind enough to give me the right words to say.

I think what I am grieved over the most is that her death was as hard as her life. Almost a week ago my mom told me “I think I am ready to go home. I’m tired of being trapped in this body.” The dyspraxia would do that on its own, and the loss of mobility due to weakness from the cancer + dyspraxia was really bad. Ironically dying is giving her rest from this relentless suffering and a form of spiritual victory:





* * *

My younger brother (who lives with us) was at a theology class for the men of our church when this happened. I didn’t know where he was, but I saw him walk out the door with his Bible and notebook, so I knew that he was at church. And when I called him, he didn’t answer his phone.

I actually called a church friend of ours to find out what church events were happening that evening, and she was able to talk to her husband who talked to my brother and got him to answer the phone. I also called our pastor as well because he knows what events are happening, and it turns out he was teaching the class my brother was in. Whoops. I apologized for interrupting his class. He told me that this was more important.

Because I needed to get ahold of my brother and make some more phone calls, I stayed at home after the paramedics took my mom away and my dad left to follow the ambulance to the hospital. That was one of my best decisions. I wanted to be alone in my own home to talk about our family's private business with our local church people, not be in a hospital where strangers would have to hear me talking loudly into my phone. Taking the time to be alone and work the phones was what I needed to do. When my dad called me to tell me that my mom was dead and the hospital had confirmed it, I was able to receive the news in my own house by myself instead of having a bunch of other people around. I was able to finish all of the phone calls that I felt I needed to make before driving over to the hospital.

I was able to drive over to the hospital in my own car. While my name has been on the title for over 2 years now and I've been driving it around exclusively for longer than that, my dad originally bought the car for my mom and she drove it around to take me and my brother to Awana and church for as long as she owned it. It's truly my car now. The other gift I received was the 15-minute drive, which gave me some more alone time and a cue for my body that it was back in control of itself. If I had gone with my father to the hospital immediately, I could have sent my nervous system into a spiral. My dad needed to be with her; I needed to be at home.

I just want to thank everyone who prayed for my mother and family in the other thread, because your prayers were effective and the Lord was faithful to be with me through this trial, helping me to reach out to people in the Body of Christ, providing people that me and my family needed through this whole experience, and helping me make good decisions that will help me recover. Even though the Lord choose to take her home, no prayer has been in vain.

* * *

The theology class incident was a blessing in disguise, because one of my father’s male friends from church was able to be there with my dad while we were in my mother’s hospital room after her death, and that helped him because he was able to talk him through my dad's specific kind of grief, which is different from what me and my brother are experiencing. My father wants us to pray with him and I think that’s okay for now. He’s clearly shattered and expressing grief in the typical wave intervals.

There wasn't really much for me at the hospital, except for reinforcement for my dad's plan to cremate my mom. That body was awful. Burn it.

But it was helpful for my dad to be there and hold her hand for one last time before pulling the blanket over her head himself. It was helpful for me to see that.

Prayer would be appreciated for my father (Mark) who has just lost his wife. This loss has hit him the hardest. Me and my brother lost our mother, and many in our church have lost a very kind friend and spiritual supporter. I've let people from our church tell us their memories of my mother and I'm hoping to respond with prayer. It helps me to get support from other people when I'm going through something, and sometimes caring for other people is the way to help one's system process a loss. I'm going to talk at my mom's memorial service, so praying for strength for me and my dad and my brother as we prepare for that. We all want to talk.

But the purpose of this thread is more in line with this verse:



Okay maybe I needed to vent some too by writing the story down, because writing things down is how I process things. But seriously, my intellectual brain is interested in providing some spiritual edification to those who chose to read this. May the Lord watch over you and your loved ones and give you peace.

As for me, it will take some time for the crying spells to stop, especially around my dad whose grief will trigger my grief and bring it all back around. May the Lord guard me from arrogance, even for a person like me who has had to process numerous losses and learned how to do it before this, there is still an impact. There is nothing to do but wait for the chemicals to drain from my body and let my brain acknowledge what my body is feeling and why until the chemicals have drained. Otherwise I will end up giving myself a panic attack. My mind knows that my mother is with the Lord, which is far better, and now I just need to bring my body around to accept that truth by telling it I'm okay, and eventually it will listen to me. I don't know how long that it will take, but I will stay with it until the end. Because my body is strong and supple, and moves smoothly and fluidly through the air, unlike my mother's previous stiff movements. It's worth sticking with for a bit longer to serve God and reach people for Him. One (smooth fluid) step at a time, but I still need to hold His hand.

If you got this far, thank you for reading.

Click to expand...

linux.poet said:

She died in my arms yesterday. Technically me and my dad were caring for her when it happened, the two of us in our living room holding her up. She was talking to us, but it was incoherent and I couldn’t figure out what she was trying to say. What I remember is my last words to her:

“I’m here. I’m going to hold you up. It’s going to be okay.” I was holding her back up while she was in her hospital bed that hospice had given us, trying to be emotionally supportive (as well as physically supportive). Perhaps she took that as permission to leave us.

Still, this was not a peaceful death, it was an ugly one with full code CPR, paramedics, trip to the hospital, and water on the floor of our house (thankfully we have tile flooring). I think she died protesting the care my dad was trying to give her and he was asking for my help with, at least the snatches I was able to catch in the middle of the largely incoherent vocalizations. At least she’s home in heaven now and not suffering from dyspraxia, anxiety, abuse, or awful stage 4 rectal cancer anymore.

Still, despite the prelude thread about the cancer, this came as a bit of a shock. My mother was walking up the stairs on Monday and talking normally on Tuesday to make her own hospice care decisions, and now on Friday she’s dead. In addition, none of us expected rectal cancer to show up about 6 months ago and have it just take her away at 68. The Lord Jesus had mercy on her, and just wanted her home with Him. In spite of the aforementioned trials, my mother was a kind and thoughtful person who raised me and my brother in the nurture and admonition of the Lord and always had a listening ear for us to talk. She prayed for us and encouraged us in both memorizing scripture and study of God’s Word. She was a welcome presence at the Bible studies she attended due to her keen Scriptural intellect, and she was the beloved greeter at the door of our church who knew everyone’s names. I have no question in my mind about her belief in Christ and her eternal destination. She’s at home with our Lord now. The best part is, when she comes back in her glorified body, the dyspraxia and the fear of misunderstanding and danger that it has put her through will be gone. There will be no more terrified exclamations of “I can’t do this!” For the first time ever, she is actually okay. The Lord was kind enough to give me the right words to say.

I think what I am grieved over the most is that her death was as hard as her life. Almost a week ago my mom told me “I think I am ready to go home. I’m tired of being trapped in this body.” The dyspraxia would do that on its own, and the loss of mobility due to weakness from the cancer + dyspraxia was really bad. Ironically dying is giving her rest from this relentless suffering and a form of spiritual victory:





* * *

My younger brother (who lives with us) was at a theology class for the men of our church when this happened. I didn’t know where he was, but I saw him walk out the door with his Bible and notebook, so I knew that he was at church. And when I called him, he didn’t answer his phone.

I actually called a church friend of ours to find out what church events were happening that evening, and she was able to talk to her husband who talked to my brother and got him to answer the phone. I also called our pastor as well because he knows what events are happening, and it turns out he was teaching the class my brother was in. Whoops. I apologized for interrupting his class. He told me that this was more important.

Because I needed to get ahold of my brother and make some more phone calls, I stayed at home after the paramedics took my mom away and my dad left to follow the ambulance to the hospital. That was one of my best decisions. I wanted to be alone in my own home to talk about our family's private business with our local church people, not be in a hospital where strangers would have to hear me talking loudly into my phone. Taking the time to be alone and work the phones was what I needed to do. When my dad called me to tell me that my mom was dead and the hospital had confirmed it, I was able to receive the news in my own house by myself instead of having a bunch of other people around. I was able to finish all of the phone calls that I felt I needed to make before driving over to the hospital.

I was able to drive over to the hospital in my own car. While my name has been on the title for over 2 years now and I've been driving it around exclusively for longer than that, my dad originally bought the car for my mom and she drove it around to take me and my brother to Awana and church for as long as she owned it. It's truly my car now. The other gift I received was the 15-minute drive, which gave me some more alone time and a cue for my body that it was back in control of itself. If I had gone with my father to the hospital immediately, I could have sent my nervous system into a spiral. My dad needed to be with her; I needed to be at home.

I just want to thank everyone who prayed for my mother and family in the other thread, because your prayers were effective and the Lord was faithful to be with me through this trial, helping me to reach out to people in the Body of Christ, providing people that me and my family needed through this whole experience, and helping me make good decisions that will help me recover. Even though the Lord choose to take her home, no prayer has been in vain.

* * *

The theology class incident was a blessing in disguise, because one of my father’s male friends from church was able to be there with my dad while we were in my mother’s hospital room after her death, and that helped him because he was able to talk him through my dad's specific kind of grief, which is different from what me and my brother are experiencing. My father wants us to pray with him and I think that’s okay for now. He’s clearly shattered and expressing grief in the typical wave intervals.

There wasn't really much for me at the hospital, except for reinforcement for my dad's plan to cremate my mom. That body was awful. Burn it.

But it was helpful for my dad to be there and hold her hand for one last time before pulling the blanket over her head himself. It was helpful for me to see that.

Prayer would be appreciated for my father (Mark) who has just lost his wife. This loss has hit him the hardest. Me and my brother lost our mother, and many in our church have lost a very kind friend and spiritual supporter. I've let people from our church tell us their memories of my mother and I'm hoping to respond with prayer. It helps me to get support from other people when I'm going through something, and sometimes caring for other people is the way to help one's system process a loss. I'm going to talk at my mom's memorial service, so praying for strength for me and my dad and my brother as we prepare for that. We all want to talk.

But the purpose of this thread is more in line with this verse:



Okay maybe I needed to vent some too by writing the story down, because writing things down is how I process things. But seriously, my intellectual brain is interested in providing some spiritual edification to those who chose to read this. May the Lord watch over you and your loved ones and give you peace.

As for me, it will take some time for the crying spells to stop, especially around my dad whose grief will trigger my grief and bring it all back around. May the Lord guard me from arrogance, even for a person like me who has had to process numerous losses and learned how to do it before this, there is still an impact. There is nothing to do but wait for the chemicals to drain from my body and let my brain acknowledge what my body is feeling and why until the chemicals have drained. Otherwise I will end up giving myself a panic attack. My mind knows that my mother is with the Lord, which is far better, and now I just need to bring my body around to accept that truth by telling it I'm okay, and eventually it will listen to me. I don't know how long that it will take, but I will stay with it until the end. Because my body is strong and supple, and moves smoothly and fluidly through the air, unlike my mother's previous stiff movements. It's worth sticking with for a bit longer to serve God and reach people for Him. One (smooth fluid) step at a time, but I still need to hold His hand.

If you got this far, thank you for reading.

Click to expand...

linux.poet said:

My dad is a Christian, like my mom, me, and my brother. He has struggled to stay awake during sermons and follow the Scriptures over the years due to his own traumatic upbringing by two unbelievers. He came to salvation due a witness by one of his fellow pilots in the Air Force.

But he believes the Gospel is true, and he keeps talking about how we will see Mom again. It is better for my mom to rest in Christ Jesus. He has talked with me and my brother a great deal in the last 72 hours as we have been working on the memorial service preparations. He’s an extravert and keeps divulging his thoughts and feelings. He asked me and my brother to promise him that we would follow Christ in the hospital room and wants to pray with us daily. Today he was talking about arranging a family trip. It’s almost the opposite extreme.

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linux.poet said:

Eventually we will probably need to cycle in some other people to talk with him about his wife, because me and my brother are introverts, as was my mom. If this keeps up as a permanent fixture it will exhaust us.

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linux.poet said:

Yes, when my dad is going through suffering, he tells everyone he knows about it. Everyone around him, for better and for worse, knows how he is feeling.

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linux.poet said:

I just hope he doesn’t get stuck in a loop. He dwelled on his negative emotions about me for over a decade, so . Ironically, I think his loneliness will eventually be his biggest long term problem - his wife not being there to talk to when he gets home. He may push that burden onto us, which can be a long-term irritation. After a long day of work from my dad, he needs to talk about what happened, need updates from us, etc. But after a long day of work, all I want to do is check forums, listen to music, journal, and go to sleep. Writing (and music) is my go-to processing mechanism.

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linux.poet said:

It’s my brother that has a hard time communicating his conceptual brain filled with mathematical formulas and medical facts and musical notes to the world around him. He has also volunteered to speak at the memorial service and I don’t know what he is thinking or what he will come up with. The family prayer sessions are helping, but I lived alone with him for two years and I learned from that never to assume what is going on with him and that I was never going to fully understand.

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