Death

I really didn't know how to title this article. Then again, dealing with death and the after math of it, there are a lot of things I don't know about.

My Mother in Law Pam recently passed away. She was an intelligent woman. She was a practicing psychologist for over 30 years. She dedicated her life to helping others. When my husband Jeff and I got together, we each had two children from a previous marriage. Pam immediately welcomed my children into the family. She treated them like they were her own grandchildren, and never made them feel anything but the love and kindness she felt for them. There were many times I wished that I had her giving graceful kind spirit when it came to opening her heart to others.

A few years ago, Pam started suffering from the devastating and cruel, cruel effects of dementia. It was sad to me that a woman who had helped so many over the years was saddled with this bitter disease that robbed her of her brilliant mind. It just seemed so incredibly unfair and unjust to me. It's something I don't think I can ever come to terms with.

After coming to the realization that Pam could no longer live in Salmon Idaho where she had resided since 1996, we decided to move her to Missoula. Care was more readily available and she would be closer to family, mainly Jeff and I. Of course things changed for Jeff and I. It meant not leaving town for extended periods of time. It meant always notifying people where we were going to be and how they could get in touch with us. Date nights became non-existent, and our weekends were spent with Pam at the house. It didn't matter to her what we were doing, she enjoyed just being able to be with us, and having conversation. Pam spent many holidays with us before moving to Missoula, but after she moved, she spent every single holiday with us.  

Early on after her move, there were times that I felt some resentment that things had changed and we had become a major part of her care team, but for the most part, I chose to suck it up and deal with it. I know if the tables were turned she would have done the same for me. My relationship with Pam changed. She confided many things to me. She insisted that Jeff and I had a baby, and for some reason I became the absolute worst driver on the planet, she was very persistent in co-piloting my driving all of the time. There were many laughs, and many observations she made that to this very day make me smile.

I didn't know what the future was going to hold with Pam. I didn't know what the disease progression would look like for her. What I did know, is the way things were in our lives with Pam, was okay. I was cool with our relationship, I had settled in to how things were. I didn't feel resentment or anger, I just went with how things were, and I was okay with it.

As life sometimes goes, we were thrown a hell of a curve ball a few weeks ago. We were notified that Pam was complaining of pain and just could not move. She was taken to the emergency room, and a few days later we were told she had suffered a heart attack. She returned to Village re-hab with the hope of gaining some strength so she could move back into her apartment in Memory Care. We received a call on Thursday, November 17th at 3:39 am. Pam was having trouble breathing and the decision was made to take her back to the emergency room. Things were not good, and slowly her body wasn't responding to treatment. Jeff called his siblings, and children to let them know what was going on. The "kids" were able to make it to Missoula and be with Pam in her last few hours. Her final breath was taken with her children present.

After her death, the realization that things would change really hit me in different waves. There were things that needed to be sorted out, and since the family was here, that was now a task they took on. My role went from  part of the care team to support team. I was certainly proud and pleased with how the family worked together, and I knew Pam would be beaming with pride.

We enjoyed Thanksgiving, but there was such a part of me that missed Pam's presence at the dinner table. I missed her endless compliments about my cooking. I missed her in my way in the kitchen. I missed her fussing about the dogs. Quite honestly, I just missed her.

Yesterday, Jeff and I went out and spent some time together. It's the holidays, and every where we went, there was something that triggered a memory of Pam. I found myself thinking about the socks she needed. The vests she loved, the soft cozy blankets she liked to have on her lap when she read a book. The fancy bows I made to wrap her presents in. The Christmas ornaments she loved. The smell of the Christmas tree she adored. The Christmas morning casserole she loved. The books she and my son Joe exchanged. The decorations that she would tell me were the best ever. I became over whelmed with sadness and the finality of her death. The routine Jeff and I had settled into with Pam wasn't going to happen this year or ever again. There wasn't going to be the schedule of going to get Ma and when we were going to open presents and eat to accommodate getting her back to her apartment. There wasn't going to be many of the things that had become our life over the past few years. All of that was gone with Pam's passing.

I'm sad. My heart hurts for Jeff. Pam's passing hasn't hit him yet. It will, and it's going to be a crash. He loved his Mom, and she adored him. I really do think he was her favorite, which might not be such a family secret any more. Death leaves a void. We each process our feelings in lots of different ways. I think for me holding people I love and care for tighter and stronger will help me through the sadness I am feeling. I want to open my heart and give more. I want to laugh and love more. The picture I chose for this article is of a beautiful sunrise. Sunrises signify a new day, and new beginning. A fresh day, a new slate. Pam would have appreciated the colors and she would appreciate my choice to smile on, even through my tears.