Last week Sunday, around ten, the nurse at Mom's Senior facility called me and said "I think she wants company."
I have never been so glad to sober up, put on pants and drive the entire 10 minutes to where Mom was being cared for. We talked about friends passed and still extant until after midnight, and then she sent me home.
Monday, the decision was made to move her to a hospital bed, as opposed to her regular bed, because it would be easier for her to get out of, and easier for care. While she was between beds, my son and his family went to visit. She was so happy and entirely present for their visit and then she went to bed.
Tuesday, she was barely responsive, knew The Boy ™ and her carers, told them she loved them. Pain meds indicated morphine. At 95, with hearing loss, vision loss, dementia and unconfirmed cancer (we decided not to biopsy and chemo), she had been in hospice care for a couple of months.
She was unresponsive until Wednesday morning. between pre-breakfast check and repositioning at 9:30, she left us.
I don't have a whole lot of patience for worst day of my life posts, right now. Lose your professional cool in the office, choose a cremation urn, fend off requests for information about funerals when your loved one has already told you, no service, burn and box, and then talk to me.
Sometimes it sucks. She's not in pain, confused or bound to this plane of existence anymore. I hope all the dogs she's had in her life don't knock her off the Rainbow Bridge.
I believe I will have another drink.