It is Saturday morning as I write this. I have not written or shared anything in days. The words have been stuck behind a wall of doing.
My mom was placed in “imminent” status last Sunday. The labored breathing, the wheezing, the look of great discomfort, it all signaled the final turn. Since then, a nurse has been at her bedside around the clock. Doctors visit. Medications are managed. We are no longer treating a life; we are shepherding a body toward its end. We manage the symptoms as systems shut down: digestive issues, fevers, the irregular rattle of breath, the water in the lungs. It is a strange, clinical vigil.
I have become the host, the communicator, the point of contact. A stream of family and friends flows through the house. Some local, some from far away. They come to sit, to remember, to say goodbye. I am glad she has this. She always loved being the center of a full room. But the truth is, it is intense. Inconvenient. Exhausting. It is all for her, for what she would have wanted. And on some level, I am thankful for the distraction of the duty. But it means I must literally clear the bedroom to steal a quiet moment with her. To hold her hand, to pray over her, to remind her we are here, we love her, we are thankful. These whispered words in the quiet are the real work.
So where are we this morning?
She has not eaten since Thursday at lunch.
She asked to go to her bed after lunch on Thursday and has not left it.
She closed her eyes Thursday night and they have not opened since.
We give morphine when the moaning comes, usually once a day.
She has not made a sound since yesterday morning.
Apart from the slow, shallow rise of her stomach, there is little sign she is still with us. But “they” say she can hear. So we are careful. We allow only the conversations that would comfort her to fill the space near her bed.
I keep busy. Final arrangements. Ensuring medications are on hand. I started this writing at 8:30 AM. It is now noon. I return to it. She is still breathing. She appears comfortable.
A note. My mom has belonged to an SDA church for over a decade. Her church people came by to pray yesterday. My spirit was in agreement with every word spoken over her. All I ever knew about her church was Saturday services and no meat. But the prayers I heard were consistent with the little I have come to know and experience over these past two years. It was a moment of unexpected unity.
This is the update. The wait continues. Only God knows the exact moment.
I am not sure if I will post anything immediately when she finally departs. There may be no words left, or too many.
That is all, and thank you for reading.
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Shashue Monrauch
You have been such a blessing to your mom. Praise God!