What To Say When Time Is Ticking? A Loved One Lost
I am not great with the spoken word in general. I am one that decides what I should have said long after a conversation has ended. Rarely do I regret words that have come out of my mouth because I don’t say a lot to begin with. And what I do say I have thought about before it comes off the tongue, generally speaking.
So when it came to my mom’s last days on earth, I didn’t know what to say to her. Under normal circumstances, I would have thought long and hard about what to say during those important last days. I would have rehearsed them in my head so that they would come out steady and strong. But my circumstances felt anything but normal. My thoughts in themselves were jumbled, let alone my words. Like everyone around me, including my mom, I just tried to survive. Sure, I could have said more meaningful and momentous things to my mom before she died. A tiny part of me wishes I had. But a larger part of me knows that words were exchanged exactly as the good Lord planned, exactly as they should have been. I will tell you how and why.
Our Relationship
Our relationship didn’t ever include talking about our very deepest, darkest feelings, even though we held a very close bond. Once in a while, we did talk about the tough stuff of life, our fears, death, every day anxiety, marriage, frustrations. For the most part, however, my mom liked to focus on the positive and fun parts of life. She was my biggest cheerleader. She rejoiced during both her and my good times, and pointed out the good parts of life during the hard times. I sure miss her positive support.
During her last months, even though we both knew she didn’t have long to live, we didn’t talk about her death. She would say things like “I hope they come up with a cancer cure quickly”, or “I am living with cancer, not dying of cancer”, but never did she talk about giving up. She didn’t want to leave us. Once, about a year before she died, she told me that she passed a cemetery and had somewhat of a panic attack. She said she was so scared thinking about how she could possibly rest there soon. Never had she come closer to talking about her death, and it caught me off guard.
-Can’t Do It
I just couldn’t do it at the time. I couldn’t talk about how real that possibility was. So I just told her that she was not alone, that we all (her family) felt that way. We all have been scared for her possible cemetery destination, but that she was living well and surviving instead. We just have to trust in today, because today she is doing well.
In my heart though, I knew she was slowly failing. I just couldn’t say it out loud. I hope I didn’t squelch her need to talk about death. Maybe she just needed some encouragement, someone to cheer lead her the way she has always cheered me on. I don’t want to be the one that couldn’t talk about it, even though that is exactly what I felt at the time. If I regret any moment, it is this one. But looking back, if I had acknowledged the fact that she would lose the battle, she might not have fought as long as she did. She would have given up sooner, and we would have had even less time with her than we had. So, like I said earlier, things probably went as they should have.
Less Than A Week
Less than a week before she died, I still didn’t know if I should bring up a conversation about losing her. I knew she didn’t want to leave us, so I didn’t want to upset her by telling her how much I would miss her. So I just spent time with her and reminisced. I asked her if she remembered all the times we shopped together. She said yes and that she enjoyed it very much. Sometimes I just held her hand and cried for a bit.
Even if I wanted to have a meaningful conversation with her, it couldn’t come easily because of all the people around. So many friends and family visited her and we felt blessed by this, but the lack of privacy kept my heartfelt words inside. The hospice nurse reminded me that I could ask people to leave the room, but I didn’t have the heart to shoo visitors away. So I continued to just spend time. I sat with her for most of the day and slept on the couch beside her at night.
-Finally…
Finally, when she lost consciousness, we all took turns spending a few minutes alone with her. The nurse insisted that my mom could hear us. I was able to tell her what a wonderful mother she had been and how much I would miss her. It felt good to get those thoughts off my chest, but my mom wasn’t able to respond, so a side of the conversation was missing.
And then she was gone.
What a weird feeling to wish I had an earlier meaningful conversation with my mom, but also be satisfied with how things went. If I had to do it again, which I would never want to do, I would probably tell her how much I loved her while she was still able to respond. But really, as a whole, I have no regrets. I notice she didn’t make attempts at voicing her deep inner thoughts either. She probably wouldn’t have wanted me to get all sad and sappy, confirming the reality she hated. And I am happy with the amount of time I got to spend with her. She knew I stood beside her, supported her and cared very deeply. We both hated the situation but loved each other. We didn’t have to say the words to know the truth.
Was this post helpful for you? Read more about my experience with losing a loved one.
Introducing My Past-A Loved One Lost
