Posted by: Kathy | October 27, 2009

Coming Home to Die

In my dad’s eulogy for my mom, he mentioned how on October 23, 2008, he brought my mom home from the hospital to die. That it was her wish to die at home with her family. I had never thought of it that way, but it stuck in my mind. So when October 23, 2009, passed, I couldn’t help but think that this was the day my mom came home to die.

I was grateful that my mom was able to come home from the hospital. During the last few days of her hospital stay, she had been sleeping a lot and was very weak. I was so scared that we were losing her. I was petrified that at some point she had given up hope. For me, to have my mom home again gave me hope that we could keep on fighting. But I soon realized that wasn’t going to happen. My mom was just too weak to fight anymore. She was in too much pain. She couldn’t do it. And I don’t believe that she gave up hope, she just accepted the reality that the cancer had taken over.

My mom had come home to die and this was where she wanted to be. The next few weeks leading up to her death were very hard for all of us. The not knowing what to expect with each new day was frightening. The sadness of knowing she probably didn’t have much time left weighed heavily on me. I was having trouble accepting that my mom was dying, but at the same time, it was torture to watch the cancer strip away my mom’s life a little each day. I wanted her to stay with us, but I didn’t want her to live like she was, to have to endure so much pain, to live in confusion some days. These weeks were filled with so much pain, emotional and physically, and the pain was wrapped in a veil of uncertainty.

Even though I wish my mom were still here with us and I miss her deeply, and truly I haven’t fully accepted her death, this saying rings true of the feelings in my heart:

God saw you getting tired
when a cure was not to be
so He close His arms around you and whispered
“Come with me.”
You didn’t deserve what you went through
so He gave you rest.
God’s garden must be beautiful
He only takes the best.
And when we saw you sleeping
so peaceful and free from pain,
we could not wish you back
to suffer that again.

I love you, Mom, always.

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Responses

  1. Kathy, I have not written on my blog since August 22nd. So much happened so quickly and I was overwhelmed as my sister died on October 7. Reading your post, I was so glad to see that your mom was able to come home to pass on. My sister passed away in the hospital and it was a heartbreaking ordeal…no more heartbreaking than losing your mom at home, I am sure. A loss is a loss. I will soon write about my sister’s ordeal during her last days, painful as it was. It may seem too graphic, but I feel the need. Today, I will post the In Memoriam that I wrote for her service. It is but a small slice of her life. Over 200 attended her service, and our small family was overwhelmed by the number of people whose lives she had touched. The following day, her 52nd birthday, we had a small family gathering at the beach for her. Reading your post gives me the courage to write about her again. Thank you for your heartfelt writing.

  2. Sometimes I’m at a loss of words after reading your posts. That there are no words that can truly express the thoughts and feelings. I’m so sorry for your loss, Kathy. I can’t even begin to imagine what you and your family are going through with the 1 year anniversary approaching. Always know our heartfelt prayers are with you all. That as the days, months & years move on….this will hurt much less.


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