Forgetting To Die

You can forget to do a lot of things. Personally, I often forget to call people back. I forget the occasional conference call or meeting. But I am not sure until right now, I have ever met someone who forgot to die. Then again, I should have known that my mother was going to handle her exit the way she lived her life, on her terms and her schedule and no one else’s.

Four days ago, she went through terminal restlessness or so they thought. Five days ago, she stopped eating, and with hushed tones, they told me that she was ready to say good-bye or so they thought. She was imminent or so they thought. Imminent. So. They. Thought.

Planes were caught, burial plots checked, old friends contacted, eulogies considered, tears shed, memories shared.  

However, in the middle of all the good-byes and chaos and teary phone calls, my mother forgot to do her part and die. Instead she calmed down, unterminal restlessness perhaps? Then she started eating again. Therefore my mother is no longer imminent. Not. Imminent.

Her decision not to die has been one part relief for me, one part confusion, one part pride because my mother has always been strong and even now, reduced to a fraction of the woman she once was, she is still strong. This is a woman that will not go quietly into the night.

Of course, in this case the opposite of death is not really life, but more like twilight.

She is alive in only the broadest sense of the word. She is not medicated but she sleeps 24 hours a day. She can’t open her eyes. Or speak really though there is the occasional whisper. But she is still here. She breathes and reaches out with her arms. A frail leg moves and falls out of the bed, and dutifully I unhook my headphones, get up and tuck it back in.

I am in my chair here the better part of the day. If she intends to stick around, it’s the least I can do to do the same.The rest of my life beckons at times, but really, I am her only son. She is my only mother. What’s a boy to do but sit here, look out the window and stay.

But since her life is really no more than lying there, I have tried to give her peace. To let her know that the things that matter most to her are taken care of. That her beloved house by the ocean is well cared for. That the garden is weeded. The quarry is filling with water. That her grandchildren are taken care of.

I have tried to give her calmness, whispering to her that I am okay, the kids are okay that everything is taken care of, that it is okay to let go and go see her sister Shirley and her father and my father and my Uncle Frank. I want her to know things are okay and she should be at peace if she lets go.

I should have known she would not start listening to me now.

So she holds on. For a week or for a month, who knows? Two months? Two days? They have no idea. My 90 year old Aunt and 88 year old Uncle came by on Friday night, said their peace and since she looked a little stronger, they took off for Vegas for the weekend. Such is my family. I should note they did call and check in. Once.

For now, I sit in her room with my computer on and I listen to my music and type and write and try and do some work. I am not sure I will leave and go back home or maybe I will and then come back.

Who knows?

It’s as if life has a huge TBD sign on it and all I can really do is sit back, and smile at my mother who is in charge of the calendar and has absolutely no intention of sharing whether she thinks she is imminent or not.