Saturday, November 30, 2002
Today is Saturday, November 30, 2002. On Thursday it was Thanksgiving. After getting the turkey in the oven; I went in to get Mom. She was in bed and did not want to move. It took some time. What do you say to your Mother, who has always been the one you saw as so strong that is now crying and says has nothing to live for? What do you say to anyone in that state? Words seemed so meaningless - I just held her. I just held her.
The one good thing about Mom's mental state at this point is that you can steer the conversation very quickly in other directions. It wasn't long before I was helping her get dressed. She doesn't ask, but it's obvious that she wants the help. Now even combing her hair. I see little things that she is not doing anymore - the personal care for herself.
Bill feels this will be the last trip that Mom will take anywhere when she leaves on December 4th for Chicago to see Sharon. Over the last 1 1/2 years since Dad's death, she is failing.
Is it uncaring, unethical to not want to see your Mother slowly dwindle away but rather just have God take her home? I don't want her to go; but this is also so hard.
She just wants one thing - to have Dad meet her in Heaven - that's all she wants.