Caregivers can do hard things.
In the nearly sixty-seven years my mother and I shared on this earth, she taught me many lessons. The one I leaned on the most as our time to say good-bye drew near was this one.
Caregivers can do hard things.
As a child, I didn’t know this. When I was eight or nine, my teacher gave a lecture about the importance of standing up for ourselves on the playground. Around the same time, my Sunday school teacher challenged us to tell others about Jesus, even when someone scoffed. I remember thinking, “I don’t want to do that. I just want my mom to take care of me.”
Mom was good at that. She cared for a lot of people:
her husband, my father, for seven decades after his multiple sclerosis diagnosis
her children, insisting we work hard in school so we could go to college
her students, expecting them to learn and praising their efforts
my infant son, pouring my breast milk into his feeding tube, so I could keep pumping
my daughter, while my husband and I tended to our son in the hospital after another surgery
her dying mother, holding her hand and not letting go until after she drew her last breath.
She showed me and my siblings that caregivers can do hard things. Because of her, when her memory began to fail and she needed others to care for her, my brother and sister and I were ready.
Her older daughter helped her sort through and distribute a lifetime of possessions.
Her son and daughter-in-law took her into their home.
I oversaw her finances, scheduled appointments, and spoke on her behalf during them.
For most of her last decade, due to her declining health, she lived in memory care assisted living and finally in a long term care facility. We discovered we could do harder things.
We visited her daily.
We expressed gratitude toward those who loved our mother well.
We presented documentation about those who did not.
We became squeaky wheels on her behalf.
In her last months, we did even harder things.
We had her evaluated numerous times until she qualified for hospice.
We fulfilled her desire to no longer eat in the dining room.
We insisted that her bed be moved against the wall to reduce the risk of falls.
We asked for stronger medications as her pain became unbearable.
We arranged for family to be with her 24/7 when it was clear that death was near.
On June 23, 2023 we did the hardest thing of all.
We gathered around her bed, holding her hands, stroking her forehead, as her breath grew shallow and faint. We told her
that we loved her
that she had raised us well
that she could leave us
that we could care for ourselves now.
Our tears flowed as we let her go. As we said good-bye to our mother, who in strength and weakness, had shown us that caregivers can do hard things. Whose story, I hope, shows you, dear caregiver, that you can do hard things, too.
In memory of Dorothea Lorraine Stratton, September 3, 1928 - June 23, 2023
Jolene Philo is the author of several books for the caregiving community. She speaks at parenting and special needs conferences around the country. She’s also the creator and host of the Different Dream website. Sharing Love Abundantly With Special Needs Families: The 5 Love Languages® for Parents Raising Children with Disabilities, which she co-authored with Dr. Gary Chapman, was released in August of 2019 and is available at local bookstores, their bookstore website, and Amazon. See Jane Dance!, the third book in the West River cozy mystery series, which features characters affected by disability, was released in October of 2023.
