The Long Good Bye

About ten years ago my mother-in-law was told that she would, eventually, succumb to dementia.  None of us really knew what that meant.  So, for a while, it was "business as usual" for everyone.  Then the phone calls began.  She would call me late in the afternoon, almost every day, asking the same questions.  Where's my mother? Where's my brother? Is my father dead? Who are my children?  Where are they?  Sometimes we would have conversations about how she "did" as a mother.  The conversations were sometimes long and plagued with fear and pain.  Other times, they were short and silly, but confused.  I never resented her for the calls, I was glad I could be there for her when she needed someone to talk to.  Yet, at the same time, they left me feeling terribly sad because by then I knew what was coming,

The bridge from knowing to not knowing was a long and hard road, but, eventually the phone calls stopped.  There was no longer a need for her to know. She lived in a house alone, but next door to family.  For several years they kept an eye on her, as best they could.  That didn't stop her from wondering and calling 911 because she was "looking for her children".  Many trips to the ER, because the rescue team would often find her quite confused.  No surprises there. 

Finally, out of necessity, the family decided it was time for her to placed in a permanent care facility.  She lived there, quite well, until her death. I couldn't go to the funeral, as we were away camping and someone needed to stay at camp with our dog. I opted to stay behind. It is really funny, while I wish I could have been there for my husband and daughter, I do not feel as though I do not have closure.  I said good bye to my mother-in-law many years before.

Even stranger, how different the grieving has been for her.  So different from what I felt, and continue to feel, for my own mother. I can not even remember the exact day she died. Does that make me a bad person? I remember the moment I was told my own mother was dead. Every year, I pause at that moment and reflect on her life and how I miss her.  I don't do that with my MIL.

Of course it's different. One woman gave me life, sacrificing all of her own wants and desires, while the other one "loved" me because I was married to her son.  I think she loved me the best she could. But, the long good bye is a strange one.  And it will, of course, alter the grieving process as it clearly did for me.

Time stands still for no woman, and life continues without those who played significant rolls in most of it.  Yet, you learn to function and do all the things you have to do, but there is always pain just below the surface.