Two months ago, I lost my mother. She'd been diagnosed with a genetic degenerative neurological disease called Spinocerebellar ataxia type 3 over 20 years prior, had stopped driving due to the symptoms affecting her vision, balance, and coordination almost 15 years prior, and had become so disabled that I'd become one of her full time caretakers for the last 4 years.
I washed her hair, cut her nails, cooked and fed her meals, tried to comfort her when she cried. I loved her so much, as her daughter, her friend, and almost as if she was my child.
The last time I saw her was a Monday. We were both trying to kick what seemed like an especially nasty cold, and I noticed some things that were unusual that stood out: her breath smelled funny, and she was coughing up phlegm that was dark brown. Also, she had a cluster of pimples or boils on her forehead, that didn't seem like they could or should be popped, bc they didn't have a whitehead. I told her and my father that she should be seen by a doctor, but she brushed it off. In retrospect, I think that must have been COVID19.
As I was walking out the door, I stopped in the doorway and said to her in Japanese, 'feel better soon, so we can get back to doing all the things we want to do. I love you.' I'm glad I said that, as it would be the last thing I said to her.
As I was getting in bed the next night (Tuesday) with my boyfriend, I worried out loud about her symptoms and wondered if I should insist on her being seen by a doctor. She had a DNR, but I thought there must be some intermediate action that could be taken to alleviate any discomfort, like oxygen therapy. I had no idea it would be so immediately deadly.
On Wednesday evening, my father sent me a text message saying that she was unconscious and not waking up. My sister and I rushed over to their house immediately, but in the span of the hour it took for us to arrive, she passed away.
The shock hit me like a wave - when I first walked in and my sister, who was sitting at her bedside, looked up, shook her head and said 'she's gone,' I started backing away saying 'No, no, no.' It felt like a bad dream that i could not wake up from. We sat with her for a little while, tearfully saying our goodbyes, before calling the funeral home to have her declared dead and taken out of the home.
My sister, father and I handled the arrangements together over the next few weeks. We picked a plot where her ashes would be buried, and she had a memorial at a non-denominational church.
Now I'm faced with the task of finding a job. My father is helping bridge the gap with 'severance pay' for a short period of time, which by now has already reached its expiration and is being extended.
I completed orientation with a caretaking agency and am now waiting for my first assignment. I don't feel ready, but then again, I doubt I ever will be. I wonder if this is the right field for me, as I ended up performing these tasks out of circumstance more than interest. I guess we'll see. One of the things I think will help me move forward is to express my grief and process her death, and that's why I'm submitting this answer on quora. Thank you for taking the time to listen to me.
