About a month ago my mom died. She had been in an assisted living facility for about 7 years and had dementia. But she remained sweet and loving and gentle---the consummate Southern lady. The night she died we were given permission to share the news that our oldest son and his wife were having a baby. Joy and sadness. Saying goodbye and hello. So symbolic of the ying yang of life.
I know I was a good daughter. But I still feel guilty about what I might not have done as well as I should have: I didn't visit enough; I didn't take her out on little trips enough; I didn't stay long enough when I did visit. Did I say anything in front of her while she was in a coma that would have upset her?
I wasn't there when she died---I went home to sleep a little bit, encouraged by the nurse on duty to go, thinking I would get back to Hospice in just a few hours. But an hour and a half after leaving her, she died. My sister, who rushed here from out of town, stayed in her room to sleep, so she was there. I wasn't.
So, part of my grieving is going through all of the things I think I did or didn't do. The other part is realizing I don't have her, or my dad, anymore.
