Her Beautiful Death

My mom got her wish for death on April 25th, 2017, exactly 5 years and 2 hours after her eldest daughter, one of my two sisters, died. She was 94 years old. 

She had a great death. A brilliant, life-affirming death. She wanted to die. She embraced it. She was ready and open.

A few weeks earlier I begged her, tongue in cheek, not to die while I was out of town in NYC for a week. Two days after I returned, she took to her death bed after ‘a cardiac event’. I rushed to her side and she looked at me and said weakly, “ See? I gave you New York! Now its my time.”

I had moved her out to be near me four years earlier from Florida, also known as “God’s Waiting Room”. She gave up her house, car, cooking and cleaning. Her 3rd husband had died a few months earlier. She had taken care of him and my sister for the prior year. She was worn out from caregiving with advancing COPD. 

When she arrived at her new home near me in the Bay area, she was convinced she had a year left to live. She remarked, "Can you believe I've lived this long?" She was warm and very loving, always with a big smile for everyone, especially if they had chocolate. Every Saturday I took her to get her hair done, followed by a family dinner. She loved pastrami sandwiches and hamburgers. A wheelchair lived in my trunk so we could go to the coast or to a museum or Macy’s for bargain tops for her.

She was on hospice for 2.5 years. The hospice nurses fought over who would get to see her each week as they all loved her so much. She loved getting showers the aides provided and chatting with the man who delivered her oxygen. The other residents adored her stylish clothes and jewelry.

But in her last year, her ability to hear faded, walking exhausted her, and her COPD progressed. She slept for 8, 10, even 12 hours. She fell six times in as many months and started to complain about outliving her body. We had to have the facility’s nursing team administer her meds, which she had until then proudly taken care of herself, due to her short term memory loss. 

My mom started to feel her life lacked purpose or meaning. Her desire to live was waning. Her fear of death became secondary to her desire for it. She started the process for medical aid in dying. 

I got to sit with her for most of those eight days on her deathbed and tell her how much I loved her. She sang me the song, “Don’t cry for me Argentina” and told me she loved me 'with all her might.' She was so full of love and positively glowed. She gradually became less responsive and needed more meds. She was ready to go and was at peace. She took a breath and then there simply were no more.

When I miss my mom, I am quickly filled with the love we shared in those last days. Her readiness and willingness to meet death moves me still. I miss her with a tender and quietly joyful love. My mom gave me life and the gift of unconditional love for all her days. She gave me an amazing and awesome gift in how she died. I am forever grateful.