Your podcast about this prompted me to talk about end-of-life care with my own parents, and gave me insight into what my mom must have gone through a few years ago when her parents' health declined before passing away. Your empathetic and honest words about the ugly parts of having to say goodbye to a parent are really impactful. Thank you for sharing such raw parts of your experience. I'm sorry for your loss, and hope you are kind to yourself and forgive yourself of any lingering guilt. It's hard to believe the empathy and love for your mother present in this writing wasn't obvious to her in the time you spent together.
Jesse: I am so sorry to hear about your family’s suffering and your tremendous loss. I cried while reading this piece. Thank you for sharing your experience. It’s a moving set of thoughts. I’ll return to this one day.
“I started resenting the commercials.”
Good grief. For the last 9-10 months, a family member has had some symptoms that may be [not including the name of a specific condition that’s really bad]. And we’ve been getting these weird commercials that are basically trying to sell us stuff related to treating and testing for that condition as well as some food the family member has been eating in order to deal with some of the symptoms. Bizarre, right? Well, I’m almost certain these ads are targeted at our home, given web searches we’ve done (TV and internet are provided by the same company). This is surveillance capitalism.
Jesse, thank you so much for sharing this. It took me years to forgive myself for not being a better caregiver with my own mom in her last years, so I can very much relate. I'm sure others more medically knowledgable than I will chime in here to say what you probably already know intellectually: people who are ill or dying do not behave rationally and sometimes say things that are unintentionally very hurtful...AND it's okay to feel however you feel about that and react in whatever way you do, even if it means in this case that you were more there for your dad and brothers than for your mother herself. When my mother was dying, she started lashing out at my oldest son who was then 13, so we had to have him stop visiting her. She would never in a million years have done that if she'd still been herself, and we wanted to both protect him and make it easier for him to remember happier times. You needed to protect yourself, too. Your mother was well cared for, and you all did the best you could though very, very difficult times. It may take a few years to get past this trauma and work through your grief, but someday, someday you'll be able to focus more on how your relationship was back in the days when she was physically and mentally well and remember those times with happiness. You're still in the thick of recovery, so go easy on yourself.
I am so sorry for your loss, Jesse. Please don't be so hard on yourself. You did the best anyone could do in a horrible, horrible situation. Better than I would have done. May she rest in peace.
You know it’s kind of cruel to make me cry with your beautiful writing about such a difficult topic 😡 In all seriousness I’m glad you wrote it. It’s a touching piece that shows just how much you loved her in a way no amount of skipped walks ever could.
I'm so, so sorry. And I can't thank you enough for sharing this. I was completely isolated when I lost my mother last year in the height of the first lockdown (not from covid), and I've been shoving all the guilt and anger and despair down into some weird corner for over a year now because I have no idea how to deal with it. Reading your piece cracked me open a little and made me feel less alone in my own mess. We're all just flailing along here doing our lone best in the dark. You know intellectually that other people have gone through similar situations and survived, but only hearing those painful stories in detail and relating to them has the healing power to make you feel part of a larger human tribe for a moment. So thank you, and hang in there.
A toast to all our moms next round, whenever that is for everyone.
Thank you for this, it's beautiful and raw and moving. The guilt and complexity of grief are so real and I'm glad you wrote about it. I'm sorry you lost your Mum.
I'm sorry for you loss. Thank you for sharing your story, especially the less pleasant parts: death is so often a messy process (both literally and figuratively), and is so often a process that is hidden away and private. It helps to know others have gone through the same sorts of things.
When my grandparents were dying, the hospice nurses talked about "anticipatory grieving", where your brain starts bracing for the blow it knows is coming by starting to grieve the person before they die. It sounds like you maybe experienced some of that. It's a documented phenomenon, if you find researching comforting and haven't come across it.
I am sorry for your loss. Don't recriminate. I went through the same thing with both parents and I have no siblings. You have to take breaks and you will always feel that whatever you do wasn't enough or the right thing.
I wish we could talk about these things more honestly; but often the people closest to us do not want to hear the honest stuff - only the "acceptable" stuff. It's sad, especially when each person has different needs when it comes to processing their grief. Thanks for sharing your story, Jesse.
I still second-guess the (insufficient) time I spent with my dad in his years of decline from Alzheimers, and he's been gone nine years now. Yes, I was living far away, and yes, my partner at the time was not supportive of me leaving the kids with him and spending time with my dad. I should have been cowed less easily, though.
To grieve is also to doubt oneself.
I don't suppose there's a statute of limitations on feeling guilt and doubt. But it has grown easier over time to remember my dad as he was before Alzheimers began to slowly erode him. I wish the comfort of good memories for all of us who are gathered here in the comments, searching for our own meaning and peace in the flickering light of Jesse's insightful post.
Jesse, I know you won't want to write about this frequently. But please do periodically, if you're so moved. Sharing loss makes it more bearable.
Be gentle with yourself. You're wrestling with some of the hardest aspects of being human.
Please accept my sympathy for your loss. My mother also suffered from incurable depression. When her cancer diagnosis -- the third one -- came in, she welcomed it. She opted for treatment, finally, given the gruesome prognosis if she did not. During the months that followed -- some of the hardest in my life, I hope -- I felt many of the emotions you describe here. I deeply appreciate your honesty. It seems as if no one wants to talk about how bad cancer can be, or how hard it is to see your parent decline and die. Other people have had much worse burdens to bear than I did. And I, too, look back to when she was healthy and happy to see me and wonder just what the hell I was doing that was so important that prevented me from spending more time with her. Thank you for this post, and, again, I wish you and your family the best in your time of grief.
Jesse, I lost my mom to cancer after a brutal on-again off-again 10 year battle. Every story is unique and has its own components, but what you describe here overlaps so much with my story. It was hard to read, but also a bit cathartic to hear you talk about some of the struggles I had as well. My mom's ovarian cancer was the size of a football and was discovered when I was in my early teens. She almost miraculously survived, but the process damn near killed her. Surgery and then chemo that absolutely destroyed her for two weeks out of the month for a year. By the end my dad had to literally pick her up and drag her kicking and screaming into the chemotherapy appointments. They were so brutal what they did to her body and how they made her feel. But, it did go into remission.
These things are never linear though. She got lymphoma (probably from the chemo) later. Then some other types of cancer like stomach cancer (I'm guessing also from the chemo). She was able to get over those, but about 10 years after the original diagnosis she got a brain tumor that the doctors said was probably a tiny piece of the original cancer that just floated up there somehow (I'm not sure how that works with the blood-brain barrier, to be honest, but the point is that it was probably somehow a result of the original ovarian cancer).
The worst part is the weird emotions. I was terrified of my mom dying when I was a teenager, but didn't know the full risk. By the time it happened I was married and in college and living out of the house and I mostly felt guilty that I didn't feel it deeper. Which is weird, because normally I feel things way too deeply. My dad had (slightly) unexpectedly passed away a few months earlier. The biggest issues are the guilt from moving on with my life. I also miss them when I need a supporting ear or advice. I very much regret my last conversation with my dad, in which I blew him off for something stupid.
Anyway, I'm sorry for the pain and experience. I have an inkling of what it's like. Go easy on yourself, there's no "right" way to grieve.
Jesse, you did the best you could, which sounds better and more than could be expected of most people. Your beautiful mom was blessed with a caring and loving son, and she wouldn't want you to be so hard on yourself. My oldest son is a few years younger than you... There is no pain deeper than our children's pain and no joy greater than theirs. Your happiness is a gift to your mother's memory. Thank you for sharing your experience.
Your podcast about this prompted me to talk about end-of-life care with my own parents, and gave me insight into what my mom must have gone through a few years ago when her parents' health declined before passing away. Your empathetic and honest words about the ugly parts of having to say goodbye to a parent are really impactful. Thank you for sharing such raw parts of your experience. I'm sorry for your loss, and hope you are kind to yourself and forgive yourself of any lingering guilt. It's hard to believe the empathy and love for your mother present in this writing wasn't obvious to her in the time you spent together.
Jesse: I am so sorry to hear about your family’s suffering and your tremendous loss. I cried while reading this piece. Thank you for sharing your experience. It’s a moving set of thoughts. I’ll return to this one day.
“I started resenting the commercials.”
Good grief. For the last 9-10 months, a family member has had some symptoms that may be [not including the name of a specific condition that’s really bad]. And we’ve been getting these weird commercials that are basically trying to sell us stuff related to treating and testing for that condition as well as some food the family member has been eating in order to deal with some of the symptoms. Bizarre, right? Well, I’m almost certain these ads are targeted at our home, given web searches we’ve done (TV and internet are provided by the same company). This is surveillance capitalism.
Jesse, thank you so much for sharing this. It took me years to forgive myself for not being a better caregiver with my own mom in her last years, so I can very much relate. I'm sure others more medically knowledgable than I will chime in here to say what you probably already know intellectually: people who are ill or dying do not behave rationally and sometimes say things that are unintentionally very hurtful...AND it's okay to feel however you feel about that and react in whatever way you do, even if it means in this case that you were more there for your dad and brothers than for your mother herself. When my mother was dying, she started lashing out at my oldest son who was then 13, so we had to have him stop visiting her. She would never in a million years have done that if she'd still been herself, and we wanted to both protect him and make it easier for him to remember happier times. You needed to protect yourself, too. Your mother was well cared for, and you all did the best you could though very, very difficult times. It may take a few years to get past this trauma and work through your grief, but someday, someday you'll be able to focus more on how your relationship was back in the days when she was physically and mentally well and remember those times with happiness. You're still in the thick of recovery, so go easy on yourself.
I am so sorry for your loss, Jesse. Please don't be so hard on yourself. You did the best anyone could do in a horrible, horrible situation. Better than I would have done. May she rest in peace.
You know it’s kind of cruel to make me cry with your beautiful writing about such a difficult topic 😡 In all seriousness I’m glad you wrote it. It’s a touching piece that shows just how much you loved her in a way no amount of skipped walks ever could.
I'm so, so sorry. And I can't thank you enough for sharing this. I was completely isolated when I lost my mother last year in the height of the first lockdown (not from covid), and I've been shoving all the guilt and anger and despair down into some weird corner for over a year now because I have no idea how to deal with it. Reading your piece cracked me open a little and made me feel less alone in my own mess. We're all just flailing along here doing our lone best in the dark. You know intellectually that other people have gone through similar situations and survived, but only hearing those painful stories in detail and relating to them has the healing power to make you feel part of a larger human tribe for a moment. So thank you, and hang in there.
A toast to all our moms next round, whenever that is for everyone.
Thank you for this, it's beautiful and raw and moving. The guilt and complexity of grief are so real and I'm glad you wrote about it. I'm sorry you lost your Mum.
I'm sorry for you loss. Thank you for sharing your story, especially the less pleasant parts: death is so often a messy process (both literally and figuratively), and is so often a process that is hidden away and private. It helps to know others have gone through the same sorts of things.
When my grandparents were dying, the hospice nurses talked about "anticipatory grieving", where your brain starts bracing for the blow it knows is coming by starting to grieve the person before they die. It sounds like you maybe experienced some of that. It's a documented phenomenon, if you find researching comforting and haven't come across it.
I am sorry for your loss. Don't recriminate. I went through the same thing with both parents and I have no siblings. You have to take breaks and you will always feel that whatever you do wasn't enough or the right thing.
Time will help heal that.
I wish we could talk about these things more honestly; but often the people closest to us do not want to hear the honest stuff - only the "acceptable" stuff. It's sad, especially when each person has different needs when it comes to processing their grief. Thanks for sharing your story, Jesse.
Jesse, this was beautiful and I don’t have the words to explain exactly how- thank you for writing this
I still second-guess the (insufficient) time I spent with my dad in his years of decline from Alzheimers, and he's been gone nine years now. Yes, I was living far away, and yes, my partner at the time was not supportive of me leaving the kids with him and spending time with my dad. I should have been cowed less easily, though.
To grieve is also to doubt oneself.
I don't suppose there's a statute of limitations on feeling guilt and doubt. But it has grown easier over time to remember my dad as he was before Alzheimers began to slowly erode him. I wish the comfort of good memories for all of us who are gathered here in the comments, searching for our own meaning and peace in the flickering light of Jesse's insightful post.
Jesse, I know you won't want to write about this frequently. But please do periodically, if you're so moved. Sharing loss makes it more bearable.
Be gentle with yourself. You're wrestling with some of the hardest aspects of being human.
Please accept my sympathy for your loss. My mother also suffered from incurable depression. When her cancer diagnosis -- the third one -- came in, she welcomed it. She opted for treatment, finally, given the gruesome prognosis if she did not. During the months that followed -- some of the hardest in my life, I hope -- I felt many of the emotions you describe here. I deeply appreciate your honesty. It seems as if no one wants to talk about how bad cancer can be, or how hard it is to see your parent decline and die. Other people have had much worse burdens to bear than I did. And I, too, look back to when she was healthy and happy to see me and wonder just what the hell I was doing that was so important that prevented me from spending more time with her. Thank you for this post, and, again, I wish you and your family the best in your time of grief.
Jesse, I lost my mom to cancer after a brutal on-again off-again 10 year battle. Every story is unique and has its own components, but what you describe here overlaps so much with my story. It was hard to read, but also a bit cathartic to hear you talk about some of the struggles I had as well. My mom's ovarian cancer was the size of a football and was discovered when I was in my early teens. She almost miraculously survived, but the process damn near killed her. Surgery and then chemo that absolutely destroyed her for two weeks out of the month for a year. By the end my dad had to literally pick her up and drag her kicking and screaming into the chemotherapy appointments. They were so brutal what they did to her body and how they made her feel. But, it did go into remission.
These things are never linear though. She got lymphoma (probably from the chemo) later. Then some other types of cancer like stomach cancer (I'm guessing also from the chemo). She was able to get over those, but about 10 years after the original diagnosis she got a brain tumor that the doctors said was probably a tiny piece of the original cancer that just floated up there somehow (I'm not sure how that works with the blood-brain barrier, to be honest, but the point is that it was probably somehow a result of the original ovarian cancer).
The worst part is the weird emotions. I was terrified of my mom dying when I was a teenager, but didn't know the full risk. By the time it happened I was married and in college and living out of the house and I mostly felt guilty that I didn't feel it deeper. Which is weird, because normally I feel things way too deeply. My dad had (slightly) unexpectedly passed away a few months earlier. The biggest issues are the guilt from moving on with my life. I also miss them when I need a supporting ear or advice. I very much regret my last conversation with my dad, in which I blew him off for something stupid.
Anyway, I'm sorry for the pain and experience. I have an inkling of what it's like. Go easy on yourself, there's no "right" way to grieve.
I’m so sorry. Thank you for sharing this.
Jesse, you did the best you could, which sounds better and more than could be expected of most people. Your beautiful mom was blessed with a caring and loving son, and she wouldn't want you to be so hard on yourself. My oldest son is a few years younger than you... There is no pain deeper than our children's pain and no joy greater than theirs. Your happiness is a gift to your mother's memory. Thank you for sharing your experience.