The Passing
On Mother’s Day 2025, I feel the need to write about my
mother. Just 3 months ago she went to
her heavenly home. At 91, when asked
what her secret to her longevity was, her response was “hard work”. I would have to say that she could work
circles around me even in her 80’s. She
was born during the Great Depression on a farm where hard work was both
necessary and expected. She raised my
sister and me to do chores. One of us
would be required to dust and the other would vacuum, clean our bathroom and
keep our rooms tidy. She was quite
particular about the way a job was done.
It needed to be thorough and not “half-ass”. When we were old enough to mow with the
riding lawnmower, she gave us the task, and she trimmed the edges with a push
mower to form a nice square for us. I
did the backyard, and my sister did the front.
My mother would run after us yelling to get the full strip, the width of
the mower blade. She was particular. In fact, she never let us do the laundry,
because she had “her way”. Some clothes
went in the dryer and others had to be hung up after the wash. The light and dark clothes were meticulously separated. I did my own laundry once I went off to
college. My mother got us up in the wee
hours of the morning in the summer to trim along the curb in front of the
house. She had to do it before it got
too hot. With her mattock she would chop
all the centipede grass runners along the curb, and we would come in behind her
with a broom and bag to pick up the trimmings.
I remember complaining profusely as a teenager about this activity. My mom was tough and there weren’t many tasks
she could not tackle. Her determination
and positive spirit got her through many health challenges later in life:
breast cancer, mastectomy, chemotherapy, a stroke, heart arrhythmia resulting
in a pacemaker, lymphedema, a cardiac stent, knee replacement, hip replacement,
etc.
It was her body that was worn out. Her mind was still quite sharp until the last
breath. Her health had been failing her
the entire year of 2024. She had one urinary
tract infection after another. She began
retaining fluid, especially in her arm with lymphedema. She fell several times even with the use of a
walker. She was miserable. I knew she was not well when I went for my
surgery on January 21, 2025. It was
elective surgery to have my right breast removed. (I had breast cancer/mastectomy
in the left breast diagnosed in September 2023.) I had scheduled surgery in August and had been
anticipating it for months. I waited
until January because I turned 65 and went on Medicare then. I had the option. Do I go forward with my surgery or postpone because
of mom’s health issues? I decided to
have the surgery, and my mother was admitted to the hospital the very next
day. I’m in NC and my mother is in TN. Fortunately, I have an angel of a sister who
was there with her the entire time. I
had a 10-day to 2-week recovery with a drain tube. My post-op was February 3. I couldn’t fly with the tube in. I had another critical decision to make. Do I drive there, come back to get the tube
out, then return to TN again? I decided
to wait and go to TN on February 4. For
2 weeks, the nephologist worked with my mother to try to jumpstart her
kidneys. She was in kidney failure. It was hard to wait to see her, but it had
been my decision. On February 5, two of
my sons drove me to TN. By this date, the
doctors had done all they could do, and her kidneys did not respond. We knew her destiny. It is a 7-hour drive and as we drove along,
my sister would ask our ETA. Apparently,
my mother was requesting to know. At one
point, I saw a text message come up on the screen in the front seat where the
GPS was displayed. It was written only to the boys from my sister. I immediately
asked what she was telling them that I wasn’t privy to. My son handed me his phone. My mother had told my sister she was dying
but was trying to hang on until we got there.
I wrote back and asked my sister to tell her that it was okay to go, if
she needed to. I would understand. She was stubborn and determined, as usual,
and when we arrived at 5pm she was still alert.
Her breathing was not good, and she coughed a lot. We visited her and made some Facetime calls
with other family members. We said our “I
love you’”. At one point I asked her if
she had seen Jerry (my husband who passed in 2018) and she replied, “not yet”. At 10 pm, we asked the nursing staff to please
give her something to make her comfortable.
She was given morphine and after that, she was never responsive
again. Her death was imminent. It was just a matter of time. I stayed with her that night. She was restless and still seemed uncomfortable. The next day she went under Hospice Care. The morphine increased and she began to breathe
easier. My sister stayed overnight on
Wednesday, and the Hospice nurse was to return the next day, but didn’t expect
her to make it through the night.
To their surprise, but not ours, she was still hanging in
there on Thursday morning. We told them
that she does things her way and that her death was no different. She is not predictable. On Thursday night, we decided to leave her
alone. One of us had been with her 24/7 since
Monday and thought she might need some time alone to sort out her own passing. At this point, she was sedated, but peaceful. It is both a mental and a heart preparation
to leave this earth and I knew she was making herself ready. On Friday morning, we found her still
breathing but her breath was shallow. My
sister and I, two of my sons, watched as the distance between each breath grew
longer. At noon, she drew her last one. On February 7, she left this hard-fought life
for a place of true peace.
We miss you, Elizabeth Julia Ann Langston Paschal!
Happy Heavenly Mother’s Day.
5/11/2025
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