I'm currently in the throws of watching my mother die and it's horrible. It's undignified and ugly and hard. And in our Western culture, we don't have a 'nice' process for it.
My mum is one of my greatest mentors. Despite extreme adversity, she educated herself and worked her way up through the corporate ladder. So proud of her job, she remained humble in her achievements and always delivered her tasks with integrity and professionalism. Her big ticks in life came from everything she achieved. A loving successful family, a beautiful home and a wonderful career.
Her early beginnings were purely to survive - she would work menial jobs just to clothe and feed us and yet she did this with pride and grace. She cleaned houses and took in ironing, all the while maintaining a clean and safe home for us, and being there after school to make sure we were looked after. We were loved without question, and we always knew it. Such a strong lady who taught me the value of working hard and keeping those you love close.
She loved to shop. Oh My God! Did she love to shop! Every one of the bedrooms in her home has a wardrobe full of her purchases. Lovely clothes, jewellery, shoes and handbags.
She loved to decorate her home. Her home is impeccable and could be photographed for Vogue at any time of the day. Beautiful furnishings and floors so clean you could eat off them.
She loved to spoil her offspring. There is nothing she wouldn't do for her children and grandchildren (and now great grandchildren). Her time was her most valuable gift and she gave it with so much love.
And now she is dying a slow and horrible death.
My father is now her primary carer, and she needs help doing every little thing; bathing, toileting, feeding, breathing. She can't shop anymore. She can't decorate her home. Nothing.
Just watching her be so dependant on those around her is heartbreaking and cruel. You can see the indignity in her face when she asks for help for the simplest of things. Her brow is constantly furrowed - her life has been reduced to a social pariah as she sits in her chair all day in her bed clothes. It's obvious she's angry for her "End of Life". Every little thing upsets her, and it's understandable that she resents that the world is still spinning for everyone else but her.
We visit. We talk. We sometimes laugh and we cry when she is not around.
I decided to take a week off work this week (which is hard because my mother also taught me the terrible "joy" of being a work-a-holic), and I decided not to go away, something I have never done! I spent time with my mum and I am so grateful for the opportunity. Whenever I visit, I try to get her to remember those beautiful moments that make her smile so that she can go off to the next world in peace and with lovely memories. I get out photos, I started a family tree, I ask her questions. Most importantly, I listen.
It hurts watching my mother die but I also know that I have been given the gift of being able to say goodbye to her, a luxury that many people don't get to have.
Mum, Hunters Hill 2013
