I published my first “Missing Mom” blog six years ago. Mom is now 97.
As you might imagine, I am missing mom more and more. It’s the main reason my blogs are spaced so far apart nowadays.
It startled me when I realized the last blog I wrote was published almost eight months ago. I simply have not known how to come to grips with what I am holding inside.
Nevertheless, here’s my attempt to share where mom and I are on our journey together as of now.
A year and four months ago, we moved mom from Cheswick (her home), to Sunrise of Richmond, which is less than two miles from where my wife, Melissa, and I live.
As a result of her ever increasing caregiving needs, mom is being cared for by a new band of angels who are by her side 24/7.
Mom’s mind holds no past, no real present or no sense of future.
Thankfully, it holds no pain.
Her eyes are closed, her world is darkness. Except for meals, bathing and changing bed clothes, she is in a constant state of rest.
When I’m with mom, thanks to her, my brain overflows with never ending memories of her life and our lives together. This includes the lives of my dad and younger sister who have both passed away.
Even in mom’s darkness, she is my beacon of light.
Except on the rarest of occasions, mom doesn’t communicate with words anymore, but I believe with all my heart we connect with an unspoken language that comes from our souls.
We connect when I feel the warmth of her hand in mine, when I hear the sound of her breath and when I sense she feels the same emotions I feel when I stroke her hair, kiss her forehead, or whisper, “I love you, mom.”
Her head still bobs to the rhythm of songs I sing to her, like Jesus Loves Me, This Little Light of Mine, and Simple Gifts.
This is as a real as real can be.
It continues to give me the calming feeling our lifelong bond of togetherness has always given me … but now it is accompanied by the unbearable feeling of aloneness that has taken up permanent residence down deep in my heart.
It is the feeling of missing my mom terribly.