Debra L. Richter

A Few Thoughts on My Mother’s Death

I told everyone mom died peacefully, but I lied.  I don’t think she did - and I so wanted her to.  I was alone with her when she finally decided it was time – in the wee hours of April 26, 2007.  I had spent 16 nights sleeping on a cot next to her bed in a Hospice center.  The Hospice doctor told us after the first 14 days that if she didn’t die soon we would have to take her home – as if we had a choice in making her speed it up. 

Every night while with my mother, I read from Michael Holmes’ booklet, Crossing the Creek, a guide (a primer if you will) for dying.  While I didn’t witness anything transforming with her struggle, he at least helped me understand what might be going on with her – and that was somewhat soothing.  

Holmes explained many things; that the dying go through different physical phases of death-breathing, and that dying individuals will move through emotional stages, reconciling with their life events – the good and bad – often seeing and communicating with those who wait for them.  He says this process is essential and will continue until the task is done - even with those with dementia.  That was encouraging, since mom had suffered with dementia for so long, and I was sure she would have wanted to resolve some old issues. 

Holmes also made the obvious more clear: dying is a part of life and not the end of life.  He says it isn’t always easy – for the person dying and for those of us who stay to watch.  From my observation, I think mom’s journey at the end was not easy – both physically and emotionally – and my heart ached for her because she had been such a wonderful person and did not deserve this kind of exit.  She could not even talk during all those 16 days. 

Since mom’s passing, I often wonder when I come upon the words, “she died peacefully…” if it is always true, or if perhaps someone told a small fib, like I did, so that others would feel better.