My wonderful mother, who suffered from Parkinson’s disease for nearly twenty years, passed away four months ago at the young age of eighty-five. She would have been happily married to my father for sixty-five years, had she just survived a few more months.
I learned a lot from my parents in my fifty years of life, but nothing that compares to the lessons of caring, compassion, and devotion that I witnessed in the past few years. While my mother’s disease had been progressing for a very long time, she was able to lead a normal, albeit slow moving, life until about five years ago. It was then that her Parkinson’s took a turn for the worse, and it became more and more difficult for her to perform basic everyday tasks without assistance. Clothes were impossible for her to button or zipper as her hands trembled more and more. My father patiently buttoned and zippered. Walking became a distant memory as her legs shuffled and refused to hold her upright. My father patiently pushed her in her wheel chair. Eating became a challenge as she had difficulty swallowing. My father patiently cut her food into small pieces and made sure she chewed every bite.
My brothers, sister and I lent what support and help we could, but it was not enough. My mother needed additional care. My father refused. On several occasions, we hired in-home caregivers. He fired them all. We had social workers and doctors suggest that it might be best if she were in a nursing care facility. My father reminded them all that he married her until ”death do us part”. He was tired, and at times frustrated, but he never, ever lost his patience. After all, this was his soul mate. He had known and loved her most of his life. She had given him four beautiful children. How could he give up on her now?
My mother’s final five days came in mid September. The phone rang at four o’clock in the morning on a Friday. My father was clearly shaken and distraught. My mother was unresponsive. He feared that the end was near. On my way to their home, I called the hospice nurse that we had been in touch with for several months. She arrived shortly after my husband and I did. Together, my father and I made the difficult decision that we knew my mother wanted … no artificial life support. It took several hours for the hospice nurse to convince my father that he no longer could care for my mother alone. Soon the ambulance arrived and she was taken to a local nursing home that we were very familiar with. In our hearts we knew she would never return home.
For the next five days my father never left my mother’s side. As my husband and I sat for many hours with him, he kept repeating that he wished that she would just open her eyes one more time so that he could say goodbye. On the fourth day, his wish came true. My mother opened her eyes and smiled the biggest, most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. And, my father said his final goodbye. That smile was her last gift to us. I will never forget it. My mother passed away twenty-four hours later. I know she died in peace and is in a much better place now. As my father grieves, he remembers the love of his life. As the rest of us grieve, we remember one of the greatest love stories of all time.
