PhoukaMom got word yesterday that her sister had died a bit before noon of congestive heart failure and respiratory failure. The tiny bit of detail shared - she was on both morphine and an anti-anxiety medication, never awoke from her coma, but “struggled” (I guess, to breathe) - makes it clear that she didn’t just drift off, which is a pity.
Grief’s a funny thing. PhoukaMom’s been grieving for her big sister for around three years now. First it was learning that Auntie had Alzheimers and had been going to church inappropriately dressed. Then it was getting her into a nursing home. Then it was family drama with Auntie’s daughter. Then it was the rapid eroding of Auntie into this creature that evoked both pity and disgust. Then it was the fight to discontinue useless measures like dialysis when there was no person left inside. And now, finally, the biological death has occurred. You’d think the grief of all the prior heartaches would have been a down payment on the grief of death, but no. Not for my mom, at any rate.
I didn’t see Auntie at all in this period. Mostly, that was because if Mom went out to visit, I needed to be home with Dad. I’m relieved and guilty and really wishing I could go with her to the service, but where Dad probably could have managed on his own three years ago, he really can’t today.
Mom has said that she’s wearing her Stoic Pioneer Woman persona. She watched her mother die (I was eight at the time), and has always been amazed at how brave and stoic Grandma was. She’s trying to be that way about her sister dying, and - I realized this JUST NOW while typing - she’s got the equation backwards. If you can be brave and stoic while dying, that’s great. It really helps the survivors. Once the loved on is gone, though, it’s time to grieve, and stoicism doesn’t help. (I need to tell her this when she gets back.)
I wish there were some way I could go with her, dammit. At least phoukabro minor will be there. I wish I had a magic wand to make her grief more bearable. It’s especially tough, because Dad can’t track current events. Mom has to keep reminding him that Auntie died, that she’s going to the service, and that I’ll be staying with him.
And the puppy knows something is wrong. She will not leave Mom’s side. Mom said she woke up in the middle of the night, crying. The puppy woke her by leaving Dad, coming to her, licking her face, and then cuddling and licking her for the rest of the night. Yep, even the puppy knows how much she’s hurting. 