+34
“Despite her having been given the gift of a long life, she treats it like a curse or some kind of punishment.”
My 96-year-old mother is eager to die. Every morning, she wakes up disappointed that she’s still alive.
“I presume I’ll be gone in a few months,” she has said for the past five years. Her bags are mentally packed, the destination known to her, and the desire to be with my late father obvious. Though nothing is promised to any of us, my mother probably has time, but she is choosing to wish it away. Her lack of gratitude for her quality of life frustrates me and is driving a wedge between us.
At her last internist appointment, which she refers to as “a waste of time,” her labs were normal. At 5 feet tall, she’s slender with reddish-brown hair and wears jeans or slacks with sensible sneakers. She’s a fiery Latina woman with a strong accent and an equally strong stubborn streak. When strangers ask her where she’s from, she toys with them by saying Italy or Turkey, instead of Mexico.
She walks daily and, until a year ago, drove to the pharmacy and the grocery store on her own. When she wanted to talk to my dad, she headed to the cemetery in her 2002 burgundy Mitsubishi.
“They’re going to have to bury me in my car before I get a new one,” she told me when I suggested she upgrade her vehicle to one with a backup camera. She also rejected my suggestion to try Uber for seniors. My mother lives independently.
Other than agreeing to meet friends for dinner a few months ago, the only socializing she seems willing to do is when my four siblings who live locally visit or when I’m in town and spend time with her.
“Why don’t you volunteer at the museum down the street? ” I asked her a few months ago, thinking it might be a good way for her to make friends and socialize.
“But you would stay busy and meet people,” I said, wishing I could convince her, despite knowing it’s another argument I’d probably lose. When she insists it’s not fair that my father is gone and she’s still here, I take a deep breath and change the subject. Sometimes my strategy works. Other times, she continues harping on the unfairness of her being alive.
“The Millers died three months apart,” she said. “I’m going to find out what they did. ”“What about Shirley when she went to that place ? ” she said.
“They gave her a shot, and then she was dead. ”The author at her daughter's 2017 college graduation in Texas with her mother and father. I’ve never told my mom how I feel when she mentions wanting to die. She is the most obstinate person I know, so there’s no point.
When she’s made up her mind, she doesn’t give up. But when she talks about dying, I feel sad, frustrated, and even angry that despite her having been given the gift of a long life, she treats it like a curse or some kind of punishment.
“I must have done something terrible in my life that I’m still alive,” she has told me more than once. My siblings share my same concerns. My older sister tells her it’s not her time, but feels just as helpless as I do whenever my mom expresses her desire to die. My younger brother deflects to another subject because, as he put it, “I know she wants to be around for a long time.
” My younger sister reminds our mom that she’s still here because she took such good care of herself over the years, including playing tennis and eating blueberries every day.
“She always smiles when I tell her that,” she says. “Then I tell her that if Dad were still here, he would want her to live life to the fullest. ”I explain that her five children, 11 beautiful grandchildren, and five great-grandchildren, including a newborn great-grandson, are grateful she’s still there for them. Two years ago, before my son’s out-of-town wedding, I filled her in on the ceremony and reception plans.
“I’ve made a hotel reservation and booked a round-trip flight for you, just in case. ”But borrowing from my childhood playbook, I used one of her common comebacks: “We’ll see. ” Ultimately, she didn’t attend, although my younger brother had offered to accompany her with his family. Although we resemble each other — a relief after spending much of my younger years being told by my two older siblings that I was adopted — our personalities couldn’t be more different.
She’s quick to judge people without getting to know them. I do my best to stay open-minded. She always enjoyed hosting large parties. I prefer small get-togethers.
I am, however, impressed with her body image.
“How can I be 95? ” she asked last year.
“Look at this figure! ”Courtesy of Lisa Kanarek My mom’s frequent talk about dying is ironic, as I’m a death doula — someone who is trained to spend time with people on hospice. While most of the patients I see are prepared for their end of life, they’re in no rush to check out. They absorb the love and compassion their friends and family share with them daily.
Unlike my mom, they’re not ticking off their remaining days like a prisoner scribbling red X’s on a calendar. I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to lose a husband after 64 years of marriage, as my mom did, especially one as remarkable as my father. But all I want is for her to be happy and embrace the time she has left. During the three years before my father’s death, I videotaped him sharing his life story.
Throughout the process, we grew closer as I learned parts of his past he’d never disclosed. I’ve asked my mom several times to let me record anecdotes from her life, but she’s not interested.
“It’s no one’s business,” she says. Still, each time my siblings and I see her, she tells the same tale about how my dad traveled hours to ask her father for his blessing to marry her. My mom’s story never changes, but the way her eyes light up makes it seem as if she’s sharing the sequence of events for the first time.
I can see what she can’t: We need others, and we must maintain current connections while making new ones. I joke that if I live until 96, my friends will be 20 years younger to ensure a greater chance of my dying before them. But I’m not kidding. All mother-daughter relationships have their challenges.
It’s hard when you look into the eyes of the woman who raised you and see your similarities and your differences. I’m not sure whether the same thing might happen to me as I get older. Will I lose my appreciation for life and my desire to make the most of my time left? I hope not.
So when I visit her and listen to her predictions of when she will die, I have to remind myself that this is her life and these are her choices. I just hope mine are more life-affirming. Lisa Kanarek is a death doula who is writing a children’s book about her dog, Gaia, the therapy animal she works with. Do you have a compelling personal story you’d like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we’re looking for
Canada Latest News, Canada Headlines
Similar News: You can also read news stories similar to this one that we have collected from other news sources.
York police seek witnesses after 32-year-old woman fatally struck by vehicle in Richmond HillYork police are looking for witnesses after a 32-year-old pedestrian died in a crash in Richmond Hill last week.
Read more »
69-year-old man arrested in relation with fatal hit and run in Mississauga: Peel policeA 69-year-old Hamilton man has been arrested and charged in relation to a fatal hit and run on Tuesday in Mississauga, said Peel police.
Read more »
The 26-year-old Developer Making His Mark Alongside Corporate HeavyweightsVuyo Nkadimeng leads a development team at Alpha and builds free apps in his spare time. His work has now earned him finalist positions in two national awards. At 26, Vuyo Nkadimeng is a finalist in this year’s TransUnion Rising Star Awards.
Read more »
Teen sentenced to 300 days for Saskatoon crash that injured 82-year-old Doug BremnerA 14-year-old boy has been sentenced to 300 days for a stolen SUV crash on Idylwyld Drive that severely injured 82-year-old Doug Bremner.
Read more »