By AMY SHANKLAND
Sandwiched
Dear Readers, I’m sad to say that I am no longer a member of the sandwich generation. My mother passed away peacefully on Monday, April 4. And I am already lost.
How can something that I prayed for hurt so much? With Mom’s advanced cancer this past year, all I wanted was for her pain to end. I remember sobbing last fall after seeing how every movement made her wince or cry out. I asked God to take her soon so she could be young and happy in heaven, reunited with the people she loved.
We had hoped that when Mom made her final turn, things would progress quickly so she wouldn’t suffer long. And as you can tell, that’s exactly what happened. We heard from her facility’s staff and hospice that Mom wasn’t acting right. But no one can tell you for sure what’s happening.
I visited her soon after on Saturday, March 26, and other than being a little “out of it” and not eating too much, she seemed fine. I was on vacation the following week and got to see her every day, which was a blessing. Mom was still spending her days in her recliner. We watched our favorite CBS soap operas and game shows. She slept a lot but would still talk to me a little.
My siblings and I talked on the phone that week. The decided that they would drive or fly up from Florida ASAP. By Friday, April 1, mom began to stay in her hospital bed. I fed her some soup that morning and she drank a little of her vanilla Boost. We did a FaceTime call with my niece Melissa. My nephew Brian and his family came to see her that afternoon.
No one could tell us how much longer she had, so I figured Mom would be around for a couple more weeks. Then I got a phone call Saturday morning, April 2, from a staff member who said, “I don’t think she’ll make it through the weekend.” I was in shock. When I returned to Mom’s bedside, the difference from Friday to Saturday was staggering. My priest said the same thing.
I took her hand and told her to hang on until my sister Vicky arrived. I sang songs to her and told her how amazing heaven was going to be. Vicky joined me soon after.
We spent all day Saturday and all day Sunday with her. My sons and husband saw her Sunday. We tried to be with Mom until the end, but she decided to be stubborn and pass away without us the following Monday morning. We were on our way back to see her when I got the call.
Just like when I got the terrible news that my dad passed away in November of 1993, my knees buckled. I had forgotten how you feel like your heart is literally tearing apart at that moment. It’s a pain like no other.
I know Mom wasn’t really alone, though. My dad and other sister, Laurie, were right there along with the angels. Mom, as usual, wanted to do things her way.
Dear Readers, you’ve been with me for almost four years, and I appreciate you so much. In the coming weeks I’ll share more about the end of this journey. I’m not sure what direction this column will take, but I know the answers will come. Thank you all for your love and support.