Waiting for my mom to die.

“Waiting for my Mom to Die”

No there’s nothing unique about this unpleasant experience. Nearly everyone on this lowly planet has been a helpless observer during the slow demise of a loved one. In this instance it is dementia – a gradual deterioration of one’s intellect, the disruption of the recognition of even those with whom you gave birth and an emotional roller coaster – from vague indistinguishable smiles and laughter – to that of tears and unresponsiveness.

Watching a loved one die – knowing that he or she is living his or her final days on this enigmatic planet; Unable to control evacuation; To competently discern one emotion from another; And perhaps able to contemplate – not only past transgressions – blunders made in life that perhaps literally altered your destiny or path in life.

For mom – it was her failure as an opera singer – her inconsistency as well as fear of getting up in front of an audience. Despite this life altering failure – she was a graduate from Julliard. She played the piano and well. She was a registered nurse and rapidly became a psychiatric nursing supervisor. She was a pretty dare good artist as well.

All of this talent – despite her mental illness – multiple attempted suicides, depression, her two-year commitment in a private psychiatric hospital and yes – her addictions – from food, spending, sex and amphetamines.

As a mom – well — she molested and sexually abused me and over a long period of time. Mom – beat us – her beloved offspring – until we were old enough to raise a fist – that is – until we could defend ourselves – or God help us – retaliate.

So – she has time – if not the clarity of thought – to dissect and review her mistakes.

If each of us – in the complete absence of uncertainty – knew that there was not merely a loving, forgiving – God – but some idyllic continuation of existence following this ephemeral life — perhaps we would live life in a far more self-less, less ambiguous manner? Perhaps?

Perhaps recrimination would be replaced by forgiveness?

Bigotry might be overtaken by a cosmopolitan mindset?

And that the great majority of us would be living-out our final moments with self-awareness, optimism and eager anticipation?

Perhaps.

Jessy J. T.