I was with my mother when she took her final breaths last night.
Not knowing what to expect when death arrives.
Watching her chest rise and fall. Her breath more labored, more shallow, each a struggle.
Skin turning a bluish hue. Restless and agitated.
I leaned into her and whispered that it was OK, she could slow down. I told her that I loved her. I let her know the she was a good mom. I then sat and watched.
Trying to soothe her with touch and whispered words. Fixing her blankets and trying to help her find a comfortable space.
We were no longer at home. It was just too much. We were able to go to Hospice.
What a wonderful place. What exceptional people working there. What a safe place to die. Surrounded by people to help you through.
She fought for ten years and fought till the end.
She took her last breath holding my Dad’s hand. Me, I was sitting at the foot of her bed. Watching her chest rise and fall. …waiting.
At the end, she turned her head and looked upwards. What did she see? What did she hear? It leaves me to wonder. What can we be expecting at the end of our lives.
All the waiting came to such an unexpected ending. Relief washed over me. She lay there soundless and peaceful.