Krissie: Change

My former BIL (who’s still a member of the family) calls this photo “The Three Amigos.” In fact, I didn’t need the cane at the time, but my sister (on the left) needed two so I borrowed one of hers). And that’s Moomaw in the middle.
It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out she died on Wednesday. I was all set to bring her home on Thursday, and I deliberately didn’t go see her on Tuesday because she’d been so vicious. And I still don’t regret that. In truth, she might not have been able to control how awful she was but she really wouldn’t have wanted to subject me to it. I stopped by on Wednesday to see her on my way to pick up my glasses, only to find that she’d fallen, been diagnosed with pneumonia and been sent to the hospital. I got there and she was in pretty rough shape. When the nurse managed to rouse her and ask if she knew who I was she smiled and said “that’s my darling Krissie.” But she didn’t say much else. I fed her a little orange sherbet and some cranberry juice, but she kept falling asleep, and I asked the doctor, but the doctor said it was the pneumonia and when the antibiotics took effect she’d be doing a lot better. She should be out of there in two to three days and then back to rehab to get stronger before she went home.
So I went to get my glasses. I managed to wake her enough to tell her I was going but coming back, and she asked very clearly “what time are you coming back?” Which was odd, because she didn’t even know where she was. But I said “five” and she repeated it.
I got back at six. She’d coded at about 4:50, just before I was due back.
It was very peaceful and painless, just falling asleep. I keep wishing I hadn’t gone off, because I knew she looked like death, but they told me it was just the pneumonia and she was going to be fine. And I think she wanted to be gone before I got back. Wanting to do something nice for me, I think.
I got there and her door was closed with a sign that said “visitors please check in with the nurse’s station.” Even then I didn’t know.
I can’t figure out why I’m so upset. She could be mean as a snake, she wasn’t cut out to be a mother. It doesn’t matter, she was MY mother, damn it.
So tough times at Hacienda del Ohlroggio.
Both my niece and my son are flying in tonight (I’m writing this on thursday night). And Erin brought Alex by and we played in the pool, so that was helped.
These things have to happen, don’t they? They’re supposed to. She outlived everyone else in my family and it was starting to look like she’d outlive me.
I just wish … Hell, I wish she were back and being a bitch. I don’t want her dead. She looked so sad.

99 thoughts on “Krissie: Change

  1. Pipperdo says:

    I’m sorry to read this for your sake. My mother died 2.5 years ago from pneumonia. It was pneumonia that killed her but she’d had alzheimer’s for 20 years. Many times I had wished to an end of her suffering, but was surprised how much grief I felt at her dying.

    She was your mom and she will always be your mom. My condolences on your loss.

  2. Naked Under My Clothes says:

    Krissie, I am so sorry. Whatever your relationship, however “old” you are, you are never old enough to lose your mother. You lose the possibility of relationships that might have been as well as what you had.

    A friend who works with Hospice says that people often die while their loved ones have just stepped out of the room. She wonders if it’s easier because love’s life force isn’t holding them back from the next step on their journey.

    Special hugs to you today.

  3. Lily C says:

    I’m sorry, Krissie. I can’t think of anything eloquent or profound to say that might help, so I’ll just say that you have my deepest sympathy.

  4. Dear Krissie, take care of yourself. I wish you both the love and peace you tried so hard to create with your mother.

  5. Janis says:

    She knew.

    “…she smiled and said “that’s my darling Krissie.”

    That is for your memory.

  6. Rose says:

    I’m sorry for your loss. I’m glad that she went peacefully and quickly and was able give you a loving interaction to hold onto at the end.

  7. C.G. Morrison says:

    Abused children don’t tell anyone because they are so afraid they will be taken from their parents. It doesn’t seem to matter how bad our parents are, they are ours and we want them.

    My mother was in a nursing home dying of cancer. They sent her home with hospice support…we all knew she was within days of going, and I know she did not want to be home. But Medicare wouldn’t pay for her to stay there, because she wasn’t doing her “rehab,” and hospice couldn’t keep her there because she wasn’t in pain. In the end, we were glad she was home, and three of us were there when she died, very peacefully, like your Mom, but it was still hard. It’s been just about three years and I still think, “I should call Mum.”

    Of course you’re grieving. She was your mother. Don’t feel guilty if you also feel relieved. (I know we did: when they sent Mum home, we all thought, “What are we going to do if she takes longer than a few weeks to die?” We didn’t want to rush her, but for three of the four of us, we had to work, and unlimited time off wasn’t a choice.) Take care of yourself. Let Richie take care of you as well. Love your family. Embrace them. Put one foot in front of the other.

    I’m sorry for your loss. I’m glad she gave you the gift of knowing she loved you at the end. Take care, and hugs.

  8. Egads says:

    Krissie, I’m sorry for your loss. I’m glad your mother was able to give you a moment of affection before she passed. Clearly, she knew you cared. Cling to that.

    Mary

  9. Tara says:

    Krissie, I’m So Sorry about your Mother. I hope that last moment when she recognized you will go into your good memories of her and help sustain you.

  10. I’m so sorry. Losing a mother is just so hard. Still, those are lovely last words for you to have heard. Wishing you comfort and peace.

  11. June says:

    I am so sorry for your loss. What a shocking thing. To my mind, it is not surprising that you are sad. For better or worse, parents don’t generally have to earn our love. They get bits and pieces of it automatically, even when it doesn’t always make sense. Be especially kind and gentle with yourself. I hope that you can give yourself the latitude to feel what you feel, the whole spectrum, and not try to make it “logical” or “right”. I suspect it may take a while to sort all of those feelings out. I’m holding you and your family in my thoughts.

  12. Hugs, Krissie. Big, big hugs.

    No matter how prepared we think we are for the passing of a loved one, we never are. Your relationship was often difficult, but in her own way your mother loved you, and you loved her. Keep the good memories and the fun times foremost, and forget the rest.

    My thoughts will be with you and your family in the days and weeks ahead.

  13. Micki says:

    My condolences for you through this very difficult time. I think there were things you were still hoping to say. But, no matter what, you’ve got Wednesday. There was no way that you could have known for sure what was going on . . . even the doctors didn’t know! To know that even at the end you were still her darling Krissie is such a gift.

    You will need processing time. You know all of us are here whenever you need us.

  14. Stacy h-w says:

    So sorry for your loss Krissie. Complicated relationship aside, she was your mother and you loved her. Big squishy hugs.

  15. Kieran says:

    Aw, Krissie. What a shock.

    That was a gift to you at the end–those words she said about her darling Krissie. And yes, she was your mother, and her passing hurts, no matter what.

    Love doesn’t fit any rule book. It defies our intellects and expectations every time.

    Wow. Talk about a change. This is a biggie. Big hugs to you and your family!!!!

  16. Office Wench Cherry says:

    I am so sorry for your loss. I think you are right, your mom left when she did because you weren’t there, she didn’t want you to be there for it. A family friend was the baby of his family and his mom’s favourite and all the (adult) kids were visiting her in the hospital. She asked him to go get her some water and within a minute or two of his leaving the room she let go. She couldn’t do it with him there. My grandmother did something similar.

    Just remember there’s no right or wrong way to grieve and that it’s okay to be mad at her for dying. The best thing you can do is feel the feelings and not judge them. Society likes to try to tell us how we should feel in times like this but there’s no right way, there’s just your way. You have wonderful friends and family to lean on right now, that’s what they – and in a slightly more distant way, us ReFabbers – are here for.

  17. I am sorry for your loss, but I’m glad that her last words to you showed her love. When my father was dying, whenever I left he would tell me that he loved me, in case he wasn’t there when I got back.

  18. Cathy M says:

    I’m so sorry for your loss. There must be a thousand different thoughts racing through your mind and an equal number of emotions buffeting your heart right now. I hope the love and support of your family and friends bring you peace.

  19. Krissie, I’m so sorry. I know how hard she was on you from your posts here; I think it’s wonderful she gave you the gift of love there at the end. As everyone else has said, feel what you need to feel for as long as you need to feel it. Just because she wasn’t a great mom doesn’t mean you won’t grieve if only over what you never had. It will take however long it takes. I’m going on 2 years and it still brings me to my knees.

    I’m glad you have family gathering around you, and Richie, always Richie there for love and support.

    Take care of yourself and be well. We are here when you need us.

  20. chris says:

    Dear Krissie, I am extremely sorry for your loss. No words can begin to describe what you are going through. Hang on to the love and support you have around you and let them take care of you. I am a firm believer of “everything happens for a reason.” I think mom pushed you away, because she knew it was her time and she didn’t want you to have to witness it. the 4:50 shows that. She would of been gone if you arrived at 5pm. And she was still watching out for you to have you come at 6pm, then you didn’t have to see the Drs. working on here and calling her death.

    Hang in there and have no regrets. Grab the good times and don’t dwell on the what ifs.

    Lots of Love to you in this sad time.

    Chris

  21. I’m so sorry for your loss. Even when our logical minds know that it was time, the finality hurts. I’ll repeat what others have said about her leaving while you were gone, though. My sister and I stayed round-the-clock at the hospice with my mother for her last ten days, minus six hours. The doctor told us on Saturday that it would be any moment now, but certainly within the next couple of days. Sunday passed. Monday passed. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. Friday afternoon, I asked the doctor what was going on and she said that she had no idea how my mother was holding on. She hadn’t had anything to drink for at least a week at that point. (They wet her mouth to keep her comfortable, but she was unconscious and not capable of drinking, and the hospice didn’t do life-sustaining measures like IVs.) Anyway, later, a nurse told me that mothers sometimes can’t leave while their children are there. We left her alone that night, and just as I was about to head back to the hospice in the morning, I got the call. I still feel sad that she died alone, but I guess it was how she needed to go.

    It is really lovely that your mother’s last words to you were so sweet. It’s a nice thing to have to hold onto, especially given how rough your relationship had been.

  22. Krissie – I am so sorry for your loss. No matter how awful she behaved, she was your mother and that’s still a big hole. Take care of yourself.

  23. Losing your mother, no matter the circumstances, is just plain hard. At the end, she told you she loved you in the only way she could. I’m so sorry for your loss.

  24. Briana says:

    I’m so sorry. It’s NEVER easy and with such a fraught relationship, it can be even harder to grieve because of all the mixed emotions. Let yourself grieve and be gentle with yourself.

    It sounds like your last visit together was a good one – hold onto that.

    I worked as a pastor for nearly 7 years and many people do choose when to die; I would agree that she said her goodbye as well as she could and then left so you wouldn’t have to deal with more.

    Again, I’m so sorry. Words are so inadequate at times like this. Just know that you are in my thoughts and prayers.

  25. We judge ourselves too much with loss. It’s so hard, and we want the comfort of knowing how we’re supposed to feel, what we’re supposed to be, because grief is complicated and strange and unwieldy. Your feelings about your mother are going to be complicated, and I only ask that you not place judgment on yourself for that. There will be relief, and that’s okay. When I go, I want my kids to be relieved; if they’re not, I’ve gone too soon. And it’s also okay to love her, even when she was mean to you. She’s your mother. It’s complicated.

    Love you so much. Call if you need us.

  26. Many hugs, lots of sympathy. She was clearly a difficult woman, but she was also your mother and however aged and sick, it is always a shock.

    Look after yourself.

  27. Deepest condolences Krissie. It’s rough to lose a parent, even if the relationship was a rocky one. I hope in time good memories will outweigh the bad.

  28. Danielle says:

    Well, Krissie, I am clearly not a brain surgeon, because this news completely blindsided me. Wow, holy shit. I think everyone has already expressed what I would have said, so I’ll just add my voice to the chorus advising you to be kind to yourself. Don’t judge yourself for feeling conflicted – I’m no grief counselor, but I’m pretty sure that’s normal. Hugs from (very) afar…

  29. Lois says:

    I am so sorry for your loss.
    When my mother died, my head knew it was a blessing but my heart still hurt.
    Please be kind to yourself. Take any hit of joy (like being with Alex) that you can. I find chocolate helps. And remember that there is no right or wrong way to grieve.
    Oh, I think when you hear about the different stages of grief, they forgot the stage where sometimes you just want to slap someone.

  30. It had occurred to me a few days ago that your mother’s vitriol toward you had nothing to do with you, but her frustration with being old (got that a lot from my mother) and her pain at having two children pass before her. So, not knowing how to handle either of those things, she lashed out at you — the only person she felt she could show the pain to. Her final words to you, however — *that* was the truth, that you were (and still are, since I don’t believe what we call “death” is the end) her “darling Krissie.”

    Your emotions are going to be all over the place, but rest assured *none* of them are wrong or shameful. You’ve just had a huge burden lifted from you, so allow yourself to embrace that relief. At the same time you will inevitably have to deal with guilt, frustration, residual anger and just plain sadness — your relationship with your mother was complicated and, from what you’ve shared, convoluted. So why wouldn’t your emotions at her passing reflect that?

    And don’t expect any quick resolutions, either. The initial turmoil will ease, certainly, but there is no timetable for grieving. Just trust that what you need to hear, and know, in order to find peace, you’ll hear and know. You did what you could, chica, and your mom clearly knew that, even when her own issues prevented her from admitting it.

    May the angels embrace you both.

    So much love coming your way…

  31. Oh honey! I had as troubled a relationship with my mother as you did with yours (only mine didn’t live so long, she died at 64). Someone who is so powerful in your life leaves a big, big hole when they are gone. It’s a blessing and a curse. But this is what I see: first, it was a really good thing your mom was still in rehab (or whatever it was) when she fell and not in her own home for you to find; it was a really lovely thing that she was glad to see you her “darling Krissie” and able to leave you on a high note; maybe she meant to be gone when you came back–for whatever reason, and she got her way because she was a tough cantankerous person on her way out.

    Now it’s up to you to make peace with your memories. You can do it. XXOO!!

  32. H says:

    This was so sudden! I’m sorry things happened so quickly, without warning – but glad that your last interactions with her were kind.

    I have a friend here at work who, when someone’s having a rough day, says “Go slow.” I think that might apply here – go slow, be kind to yourself, no rush or hurry or pressure.

  33. Barbara Cameron says:

    Like Danielle, I was blindsided. She seemed like such a tough old lady I couldn’t see her leaving anytime soon.

    As someone else said, thank goodness she was cared for at the rehab or she might have suffered lying there in her home and you’d feel terrible about that.

    Many of us who had difficult parents can sympathize with you for being conflicted. How nice that your mom left you by recognizing you as her “darling Krissie” and you have that to hold onto. At the end my dad let me know how much he loved me and how fond he was of me, too. And BTW, he did the same as your mom: he left just before he knew I was coming to visit.

    Anyway, be kind to yourself. Sending prayers to you.

  34. Lulu says:

    Condolences, Krissie, on your loss. No matter how good or fraught our relationships are with our moms, it’s scary hard to lose them.

    Wishing you and your family peace and calm, and mutual support. It will get easier, in time.

  35. Diane (TT) says:

    I’m so sad for you, but you have nothing to reproach yourself for and it is good that she had a peaceful end. The loss of possibilities (however remote we know them to have been) always strikes when a loved one (however difficult) passes. Peace and comfort to you.

  36. Carol says:

    Krissie ~

    Love, strength and peace to you and your family. It is hard and it is freeing when you are the major caregiver. She said who you really were to her even when she could not or would not express it; “That’s my darling, Krissie.”

    Hang on to those words. Wishing you much wisdom for the coming days.

  37. Until the world is perfect and we all have ESP, we’re just going to have times when we weren’t where we wish we’d been when things go down. You have to let yourself off the hook for that one.

    I know exactly how those doctors sound. I was standing in my brother’s ICU room, and they let me go home, telling me that they were just giving him fluids, getting him stable until they could transport him. I went home that night, and the next. It wasn’t until the third night, when they were going to transport him that the oncologist would not let us transport him until he signed a living will, and a power of attorney for me, so that I could follow him and make decisions in case he went into a coma and never came out again. I remember standing there, completely losing all sense of time and place because that was the very first moment I actually realized *he could die*. He had almost died, and I hadn’t even really fully grasped that. They had had to put 5 pints of blood and 2 pints of platelets in him on that first day, because his bone marrow had long ago quit making blood. I still hadn’t grasped. They had to make me sit down, I’d gone completely pale and lost all sense of time and place, from that realization that I had *left him alone* for two nights when he’d needed me. An ER doctor later told me that he’d seen gunshot victims who’d bled out who had more blood than my brother, and that there was absolutely no way my brother should even be alive, much less walking around that day. (He’d walked in on his own power into the ER.)

    So no, you didn’t understand. It’s often just not possible to fully grasp what’s really going on, unless someone took you by the hand and said, “This is it, this is the end.” But they didn’t tell you that–they said she’d get better, and that made sense, in context. You have to remember that, Krissy.

    My heart goes out to you for your loss. I think we often mourn what might have been as much as what was.

  38. Maria says:

    We all love you so and we are never ready for our parents to pass away. How wonderful that the last thing she said to you was so beautiful.

    Blessings to you and to her.

  39. Marcia in OK says:

    (((Krissie))) – thoughts and prayers headed your way.

    Please remember to be as kind to yourself as you would be to someone else. And, Breathe.

  40. I don’t have time to read the comments, so I probably should just say WEBS. But you know me – verbal (written) diarrhea.
    I’m so sorry about your mom. It doesn’t matter what she was like, it’s a loss, and it’s painful.

    Please, don’t be sorry about leaving. Many people have trouble dying when their family is in the room. You gave her the room to let go and be at peace.

    Please allow yourself to be sad. But don’t beat yourself up. A day or two before my mom died I told her she’d been a good mom. And mostly she was. But I beat myself up about putting that statement to her in the past tense for ages. I felt I caused her to die because it seemed like I didn’t need her anymore. (I know convoluted thinking.)

    A hospice person told me what I had done was given her permission to leave. I told her what she needed to hear so she could die in peace. I felt much better after that.

    You didn’t desert your Mom, Krissie, you gave her what she needed to move on. Much love. ((hugs))

  41. Jane F says:

    Oh you poor thing. Try to allow yourself feel whatever comes naturally. It can be tough. My sympathies.

  42. I’m so very sorry, Krissie.

    Bitterness and old hurts, fear and unresolved anger can make it very difficult for some people to show their love. I’m glad she gifted you with a glimpse of her true feelings.

  43. Stephanie says:

    Oh jeez. I’m so so sorry. It’s hard when feelings are conflicted. Give yourself time to deal with all of this. It’s been kinda sudden in some ways. Know that we’ll be thinking of you.

  44. Beth E says:

    Virtual hugs to you Krissie.

    As others have noted, no matter what you feel about someone while they are alive, it can still be hard when they’re gone.

    Take care of yourself.

  45. Phyllis says:

    As others have said, it’s not just that you lost your mom and she was yours, it’s that you lost the possibility of fixing the relationship.

    Condolences and love and hugs.

  46. Redwood Kim says:

    Be gentle with yourself in your time of grief. I didn’t see this one coming either, but this is exactly why she needed to be in a facility. SHe seemed ok, but so clearly was not.
    There was nothing straightforward about your relationship, and so it will be for your grief. I find myself frustrated on your behalf – it seemed that you were doing such good work on setting boundaries with her, that you were taking control of your relationship in a fundamentally healthy way. I wish you had been able to get a little further with that, that you’d had some time to be settled with those feelings before you had to deal with tangle of grief.
    And yes, lovely words at the end to take with you. Be gentle with yourself. Loss is *hard.*

  47. Chris S. says:

    I’m so very sorry. It hurts, and it goes on hurting, and there’s no way through but through.

    But there’s a whole team out here, across countries and time zones, and we’re all thinking about you, and wishing you peace and strength in the days ahead.

  48. Frances in England says:

    This is a time to take care of yourself.

    You will grieve – after all is said and done she was your mother, and that is huge – but allow yourself to grieve in your own way.

    Everyone is different, and there will be days when you have all sorts of conflicting emotions – including ones that don’t feel “right” in that they don’t fit in with the stereotypical version of grief. All feelings are perfectly valid.

    You will get through this, and there will come a time when you are stable/”normal” but do not push yourself to be there before you are ready. I realise that might sound daft, but everyone has to deal with grief in their own way, at their own pace. Anything else is asking for trouble.

    Big hugs

  49. Darling, Krissie, heartfelt condolences on the loss of your mother.

    Regardless of anything that transpired over the course of your life, you were a good and caring daughter. Your mother was fortunate and I’m glad she expressed it so well at the end.

    I wish her peace with your siblings and other family who went on before.

    I wish you comfort and peace.

    Big hugs.

  50. Kim says:

    Krissie, I am so sorry to hear about your mother.

    I know it’s such a tough time and you must be feeling all over the place. I lost my mom six years ago and it was devastating. Please know that it’s okay to be sad, angry, confused, relieved or anything else, we all deal with grief differently. Allow yourself the time to process everything as you go.

    I am sending you hugs and remember that you will always be your mother’s ‘darling Krissie’.

  51. So sorry, Krissie. Loss is hard no matter what the circumstances.

    When my dad died with a lifetime of unresolved issues between us, my first thought was that I’d never get closure on any of them. But later that very night, my sadness was replaced by a knowing that that wasn’t true. That in fact, finally, he knew and understood things, and that gave me a great sense of love between us and peace. I wish that for you too. Hugs.

  52. Kate says:

    May light perpetual shine on her.

    May you enjoy the hell out of the good memories while the others fade into time.

    Much love and positive vibes from a reader who usually just lurks.

  53. Braless Betty says:

    My mom was super nasty the week to ten days before she died. It was like she was some other person. Weird how death is that way. I’m so glad that she was sweet to you in the end. My dad’s last words to me were unusually sweet. It meant a lot to me. Something I always reflect on. Again, weird how death is that way. My condolences Krissie.

  54. Caryn says:

    Glad she was nice to you. Condolences.

    I was relieved to know when my roommate died so suddenly that her last words to her daughters were not bitchy arguments like they’d been having all the time then.

    (I’m afraid I was not displeased she suddenly passed on — she’d turned into a raving bitch and I was ready to run away from a house I co-owned because I couldn’t take how she treated her family (or mine) any more. Privately a round of the appropriate song from Wizard of Oz was sung, sotto vocce.)

    Feeling both feelings simultaneously is also allowed.

    ((( )))

  55. My deepest condolences to you. But you have no reason to beat yourself up because you stepped out for a bit. It was her time to go and going quietly and peacefully was a gift to you both.

    I lost my mother just over a year ago. She wasn’t the perfect mother and her passing was a blessing because she was ill and there was no getting better, but she still left a hole in my life that no one else will ever fill.

  56. Tracey says:

    I am so sorry…but don’t be afraid to embrace the relief. Years ago I used to visit a beloved aunt & uncle — he had COPD and cancer and heart issues — and I asked her once how hard it must be, caring for him on a daily basis. “He hurts,” she said, “and one day he won’t be here, and it will be a relief for both him and me.” and it was, but that didn’t mean she loved him any less. no-one who’s read this blog doubts your love for your mother; rage is understood. Thankfully her passing was peaceful, and her last (-ish) words revealed her love for you. In peace and love,

  57. Reb says:

    Krissie, I’m so sorry.

    My grandma was horrible to my family. I expected to feel nothing but relief when she died but actually I was very upset. I guess family are family.

    It’s lovely that she was able to put her love into words at the end.

  58. As you say, she was your mother, damn it. And in the end she left you with something to positive to keep “That’s my darling Krissie.”

    My condolences to you and your family. None of it’s easy.

    Hugs Krissie.

  59. Librarian Betty says:

    I am so sorry for all that you’ve lost. May the love of family and friends help you heal.

  60. Glee says:

    I haven’t read all the comments but skipped right to the end to send hugs. I think your mom did leave before you got back. My dad had a stroke and we gathered at the hospital to be with him. We told stories about good times and shared memories, some of which I’m sure he heard. On the afternoon of the second day, after he had refused food and asked for the respirator to be removed, the nursing staff sent us out to have lunch so they could bathe him and give him clean clothing. After his bath, before we returned, the nurse told us he smiled and left. What could be better, really?

    I’m sorry that you were shocked. That must have been unpleasant, indeed. But really, be relieved for her and for you, and grieve. Im sure others have reminded you to defer decisions until later and to cuddle your loved ones. And the good memories, cherish those and flush the crummy ones.

  61. jinx says:

    Personally, I am happy that during this last few months of your mother’s life, while doing things day after day to look after your mother, meet her needs, respond to her demands, and so on, you were also working so hard and so successfully at teaching yourself some of the lessons that the generation before you hadn’t managed to pass on — things like setting boundaries, standing up for yourself, figuring out the fine line between assertiveness and bitter aggression.

    This news makes me think about your siblings. I never knew them, or your mother, but I have this feeling that they would be proud of you too, for making that kind of progress while not losing your kindness and sympathy for your mother’s age and situation.

    Don’t let the grieving keep you from giving yourself some credit for all those accomplishments, because they are well worth valuing.

  62. Catherine says:

    I’m sorry for your loss Krissie. In my experience even if you know it’s coming there is still a sense of shock at their passing. I’m still a bit raw from losing Mum earlier this year so anything I say is going to be garbled. I’m thinking of you with as much positive healing spirit as I can x

  63. Mariana Chaffee says:

    Blessings to you, darling Krissie, and to your mother and all of your family. Try to just take things as they come. You are loved by many, and we wish you comfort and joy.

  64. Krissie, I’m sorry; for the many ways this pains you, I’m sorry. I felt so grateful to read your mom’s softer words for you, and I’m grateful, too, for all the kindness and wisdom expressed here in the comments. It touched me, and I hope it comforts you. God bless.

  65. Oh sweetheart. My deepest condolences. And what a wonderful gift she gave you at the end by recognizing you as you truly are – her darling Krissie. There’s no easy way to get through this next part, but as others have already said, I ask that you be gentle with yourself. Sounds to me, too, as though she didn’t want you there at the final moment, so please don’t be upset with yourself about it. Later, at least. Right now everything is upsetting and it’s all just become dramatically different.

    Billions of hugs and all the love in the world to you, babe.

  66. Juliana says:

    I’m so sorry, Krissie. Thinking of you and sending so many vibes of strength, comfort, and love.

  67. Kathryn says:

    I am sorry.
    I just recently saw a qoute from Cheryl Strayed’s book “Tiny Beautiful Things” that was intended as advice for the love-lorn, but I think it applies to every hit that we take in life:
    “You let time pass. That’s the cure. You survive the days. You cry and wallow and lament and scratch your way back up through the months. And then one day you find yourself alone a bench in the sun and you close your eyes and lean your head back and you realize you’re okay.”
    Here’s to the bench in the sun.

  68. Ro Heim says:

    {{{{{{ Krissie}}}}}}. My deepest condolences to you and your family. Her last words were a lovely gift.

  69. There’s the guilt, and the relief, anger and the sadness that must be waded through. There is no avoiding the baggage that comes with death. Eventually it must be dealt with.

    If I could, I’d arrive on your doorstep with lots of healthy food and a hundred and one hugs for you and your family.

    Sending you love and peaceful days.

  70. My grandmother did that, too. Waited until everyone left the room, then died.

    It is perfect death. She doesnt have to live anywhere she doesn’t want to, and she died the way we all want to.

    But of course you will grieve her. She was your mother. Love and hugs.

  71. So sorry for your loss.It is a loss no matter how complicated the relationship. WEBs – I think she needed that quiet to let go, please don’t be unkind to yourself, you gave her exactly what she needed to move on.Hugs.

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