Privilege Blog

It’s Thursday And Yesterday My Mother Died

Nancy 1932-2019 (Photo from June 2017, I only wish I had one from this time of her smiling, because she did. But maybe this is better because it reminds me she was probably ready to go.)

My mother died yesterday, early in the morning, in her room at her memory care home. It had become home.

We started to understand that she might be dying this Saturday afternoon, no, I guess that was Sunday morning. My sister who lives in Los Angeles flew up, we began what became a vigil. From then on someone was always with her. At the end, as it happened, all three of her daughters were there at the end, mostly lying next to her on her bed. Her sister and son had visited the night before.

It was a death that might have been as good as it could have been, and perhaps one that she would have been glad of, if it had to happen. Which it did, as it does.

Yesterday I felt very private. Today I realized that I could not talk to anyone, in the virtual or physical space, without telling them my mother had died. How does one respond, “Hehe,” to a funny tweet, without having said in that space, “My mother is gone.” But if I’m telling anyone I don’t see in person, I’m telling you all first.

There is no loss, as she is here in small pieces, in scenes I am still remembering, and because she was so wholly gone when I saw her last, and yet of course it is a loss. No need to be sorry. I am rebuilding her in my heart now, with the experiences that were dearest to me. I am finding her as I need her to be.

I imagine I won’t post this weekend. Which matters only because, no matter what, we RSVP.

119 Responses

    1. Dearest Lisa, I cannot begin to understand what you are feeling but I am, and we all are, with you, in step with you, our friend. I send you love from my heart. Yes, be quiet now with your memories and give yourself time to reflect. xx

  4. Dear Lisa: My deepest sympathies. My mother died last summer, and when I say, I know you you feel, I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL. My journey was a little different. My mother died in her sleep, so there was no vigil, but loss is loss. If you need to blather or cry or just talk, you have my email addy here. Hugs and a few tears on your behalf (and also mine, to be honest), claire

  5. All love, dearest Lisa, and all sympathy to you and your family.

    Your mother has a special place in the hearts and lives of those of us who were fortunate enough to know her, and we will never forget her.

    You’ve been a good daughter to your mother throughout this whole difficult experience – serving as a mother to your own mother, in a way, and coming to “love her fiercely” (your words). Which I’m sure she understood, because she loved you fiercely too.

    Take care of yourself at this sad time, and hold your memories close. They will provide comfort, yes, but also strength for the days and years to come.

    Peace.

  6. My mother fell and fractured her hip last week. I put out a call for prayers on FB, which one of my siblings promptly told her. She hates any “publicity” but I imagine when she dies, I will do what you did, and let people know en masse, because the toll of telling one person at a time, and risking missing someone close, is too high a bar for me.

    Sending all my love to you and your family. xo

  7. Dear Lisa, please accept my condolences. Losing your mother is a seismic shift in a woman’s life. Take all the time you need away from the internet to take care of yourself. Sending you comfort from afar…

  11. Lisa,
    I knew it had to happen but when . . .
    Still, the silent shock. You will eventually carry her in memory where she can reside within you.
    You are and have been a wonderful daughter. If she could thank you she would.
    I’m so sorry,
    Luci

  14. First, I’d like to offer my teary eyed condolences on the passing of your mother. Second, I’d like to bemoan the physical limits of following a blog, as I feel an incredibly impractical urge to begin cooking for you and your family. Thank you for sharing your mother.

  15. Ah Lisa, my sympathy. Even when expected and even a hoped for release, I found my parents’ deaths hard. One was very ill and wasted for a few years and afterward I did, as you say, rebuild her in my heart. Reviving the memories of before came naturally and was a welcome relief as I feared I’d mostly remember the end. Not so. Wishing you the very best.

  17. I am so sorry, Lisa. Do not worry about your readers. The “building in your heart” is more important. Gentle hug, M.-In-Victoria

  18. My condolences. Love what you said about rebuilding your mother in your heart. That is where I think eternal life is – in the hearts of those who love us.

  19. May you feel loved and comforted in the days ahead. May you laugh and cry with your family and friends.

  20. You have my deepest sympathies. Death is weird, isn’t it? Although, I suppose it’s no weirder than birth! I like your idea of rebuilding her in your mind. What a healthy attitude, and such a nice way to honor your mother.

    My 90-year-old mother died mid-February, at my house, under hospice care. She’d been in a coma for a few days, but prior to that, she had stated that she was ready to go. My daughter and I were with her.

  22. I’m sorry to hear this. I know she’d been fading, but gone is not the same as fading.
    When my Dad passed away from dementia the Chaplin at the hospice stopped in during the last days and asked about what he liked to do and we mentioned he was a life long runner. She read us Isiah 40:31 -“They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”

    That was my Dad, not the shell of himself that was left of him. I hope you will return you Mom to the woman of your childhood/youth/adulthood, the one who raised, inspired, and annoyed you. She is who will be with you forever.

  24. I wish you peace and comfort in the days and weeks ahead – may you have the support you need, give the support you can, and do what feels right for you. We all grieve in our own way and acceptance of that is the best we can do.

  25. Dearest Lisa, my mother also left me before she died, but I was blessed in that she still recognized her family. I would offer prayers but I know that’s not your thing. So, comforting thoughts and virtual hugs to you from me.

  26. I am so sorry for your loss and yet smile wistfully at the way you describe her ongoing presence in your heart. I hope you are surrounded in love. Being there was the most precious gift, not only for her, but for you all. Hugs.

  28. Dear Lisa,

    I am a constant reader but an infrequent commenter. I couldn’t let this post go by without telling you I really do understand how you feel. My husband had early-onset Alzheimer’s disease, which lasted 15 years. Thirteen years ago, he died unexpectedly within 24 hours from an acute respiratory infection.

    For me, the grieving was done gradually as I watched him lose cognizance and abilities day by day. There were flashes of lucidity, such as his answer to my question at the end of dinner not long before he died: He had no idea who I was, nor could he usually have understood my common question, “Brad, is there anything else you would like to have?” I expected a sweet smile, like always, because the question never made sense to him. Even if he had comprehended, he had not spoken for several weeks.

    He looked at me a long time and as cool as a cuke, said evenly and slowly, “I-want-chocolate!” He was back for 5 seconds. I cherish that memory. He polished off half of a huge bar and smacked his lips. I choose to remember him as the energetic, thoughtful, and witty man he was, and I am grateful we had 46 happy years together.

    Rest well, knowing you did well in making your mother’s life easier. My condolences to you and your family.

  29. Lisa – this is another journey as we “grow up”. May you be blessed with happy memories, as I know you are. Your mother raised an extraordinary daughter in you! What a great legacy she leaves. XO

  33. I am thinking of you….. and crying for you….because I imagine even that is hard right at this time.

  35. Love and understanding to you, dear Lisa. What you said is beautiful, “There is no loss, as she is here in small pieces, in scenes I am still remembering, and because she was so wholly gone when I saw her last, and yet of course it is a loss. No need to be sorry. I am rebuilding her in my heart now, with the experiences that were dearest to me. I am finding her as I need her to be.” My mom died three years ago, and what you describe is my experience, in particular your final sentence. My mom was 94 when she died, in hospice for a month, in assisted living for two years. Initially, when I told people my mother had died many people said, “How sad,” or “I’m so sorry,” and I felt the need to explain why it wasn’t sad and they didn’t need to feel sorry, but then I decided to just say, “Thank you.” We share these experiences, but each of us feels them with our own history in our own way. I hold you in my heart. xo.

  36. Here you find yourself between the then and the now, between life and death. (Where we all are really). My thoughts are with you.

  38. Oh, Lisa,

    I wish you peace and send you love. Losing a parent is the rawest grief I’ve ever known. Indulge all of it. This lovely photo of her in profile is exactly as I imagined her from what you have shared in words here. You have my deepest sympathies.

  39. When I saw your post come in today, not a Saturday, I knew somehow it was your mother. No words to console you because truly, consolation comes only from a mother. So I send you hugs, and respect that you loved her so well.

  40. Oh Lisa, it is a loss and I’m so, so sorry. I’m sure your mother was comforted having her children by her side. And I hope you find comfort in the memories as you rebuild her in your heart.

  41. Sending warmest affection … you’ve got this. And as long as there’s someone to say her name, she’s close. xx

  42. Lisa, sending courage. It is such a wrench when a parent passes. The sentence – rebuilding her in my heart – puts words to how I remember my mother.
    Thank you for your honesty.
    Ali

  44. My deepest condolences to you, Lisa, and to your family. I found the experience ( with my dad) hard, but also a relief. Hard, because it was hard for your mother? No, because you are always wondering if you did enough. Yes, you did. Your actions over the past year are a shining example of love, tenderness, caring, and compassion … things your mother needed to feel and experience. You helped her transition, I think, more than you may realize. She knew, through you, she was loved. Hugs to you, and to your family.

  45. So, so sorry to hear about your Mum, Lisa. I know you said there’s no need to be sorry, but I guess we all feel that sort of punch in the gut when someone loses their mum.
    I truly get what you meant when you said you are “rebuilding her in your heart.” I felt the same when my brother died. He’d been slipping inexorably away for a year or two. When he died I felt we were free to remember him as we each saw him. Strong, generous, loving, independent… how I imagine he wished to be seen.
    Lots of virtual hugs, and as another reader alluded to, imaginary casseroles and loaves of home baked bread coming your way. It’s what friends do for friends when there is nothing else to be done, except bring food. xoxo

  47. Your mother has taught you so well Lisa. This is such a beautiful post and now I must find my kleenex because it went straight to the place that makes me cry with sadness, grief but also joy. To love someone is privilege. To grieve could also be considered a gift – though a relentless one in how it pounds the griever with the power of love. I know what a tremendous place in your life your mother has held and I am confident you will rebuild her in your heart. The bones are good.

  48. I’m so glad you and your sisters sat vigil, Lisa. A soul leaving at death is as sacred as a soul being born. Many blessings on your paths, Lisa and Lisa’s Momma.

  49. I’m so sorry for your loss,Lisa
    Memories and all the beautiful emotions luckily stay with us
    I feel better when I talk about my late father,even more as time goes by
    Love,
    Dottoressa

  51. Oh Lisa, I felt that. When one mother dies, it brings back the memories of ones own mother. I guess you never get over that pain. But she is always in my memories, I always think of her when I use her old wooden cooking spoon. But with your mother passing, my eyes well up and I remember. I know you’ll put the pieces together again. Hugs and casseroles.

  52. Very sorry to hear this news, and I hope for peace for you as you remember your mother. Glad you were there with your sisters.

    xoxo
    Jean B.

  53. My sympathy and empathy are going out to you. While I rarely post, I follow your blog closely. I feel that I’ve come to know you- and your mother over these several years.

    When I lost my first husband and my parents, I found it helpful to look at photos of the happier, healthier times. It helped me to move from the more recent memories.

    Hugs.

  55. This is so tender and beautiful. I am moved by your words and by the image of your mother carried into another realm in the arms of her daughters. A gift. Lisa, I wish you peace and the comfort of your mother’s lingering spirit, which is in the spring jonquils, in the boughs of the redbud trees, in that certain slant of light, and most abundantly in you.

  56. Lisa, my breath caught with your first few words and all I can think of is to say your mother’s love for you is never far away. I’ll be thinking of you.

  57. My mother died of Alzheimer’s and now I dream about her(or does she come to me in dreams???). We do things together and in my sleep I’m very aware that she’s her old self and I’m so grateful. Your mother will live on in you. Your whole family ended her life so well. Be pleased with yourself for doing all you could to help her.

  58. My sincere condolences to you Lisa. Be gentle on yourself as you move through the days ahead…hope too that you will find comfort in your happy memories of your beloved mother.
    XO

  60. I am so very sorry for this loss, even though it was lost for a while now. How fortunate you were to have warning and to be able to gather. I trust you will know exactly the things you will need to do, to heal; and I am holding you in the light.

  61. How fortunate she was to die surrounded by love. As a friend said to me in similar circumstances, she must have thought that you were angels. And how wonderful for you and your sisters that you got to be with her at the end, helping her to let go of this life. Blessings on all of you.

  62. My mother died 5 years ago. We weren’t close but I loved her. She was my mother. I am a private person and sometimes tight with emotions but I am finally starting to process her being gone. I am making peace with the passing of time. You are in my thoughts.

  63. I read this post in the airport on our way home from a trip to celebrate a family birthday. You have become such a dear friend (albeit virtual) that I cried–just knowing what you are going through. You have been such a dear daughter to your mother as she was a dear mother to you. I love the idea of rebuilding her in your heart. I’ll be thinking of you in the weeks and months ahead. Sending love and condolences.

  64. My condolences to you and your family.
    I appreciate your sharing of this significant event in your life.

  66. Ah, Lisa, so sorry for your loss. Even when expected, it hits you like a freight train but I am glad you had a chance to be with her and your sisters.

  67. My heart goes out to you, Lisa. I’m so sorry. You and your sisters took wonderful care of your mother.

  68. Having followed you for several years, it is clear that your mother deserved a great deal of credit for giving her remarkably inquisitive, wise and reflective daughter the confidence and curiosity to explore the wonders of the physical world and the world of the mind. All that you have written and will write will be a tribute to her.

  70. Sincere condolences Lisa, thank you for sharing the news in this beautiful post. I hope that the wonderful comments above bring you some comfort at this difficult time.

  73. Dearest,
    All my love to you and yours. Aunt Nancy loved company, and I’m grateful she had yours through to the end. Thinking of you with compassion, and gratitude for sharing the journey.
    Laura

  74. I am so sorry for the loss of your mum. Have followed yours and her journey for a few years now. Xx

  75. Hello Lisa, I am very sorry to hear about the loss of your mother. You are right about how she will still always be with you. Just last night we were talking about my great-grandmother, who has been gone for a long time now. It seems that in every conversation past relatives and friends are brought up, and they still influence the way we think and act now.
    Sincerely, Jim

  76. Thinking of you Lisa, after seeing your post on Instagram. I am very sorry for this loss. How good is it that you and your sisters were with her at the end. I was with my dear Nana when she died in 2013 and it’s always been a comfort to me.
    My most sincere sympathy to you.

  77. There is no loss, as she is here in small pieces…

    I am keeping this small piece of prose because I know I will need to use it someday. Thank you for a touching read. xxoo

  78. As someone who has gone through this there are no words to make it better. It just is a huge void as your mother has been with you always and even though she was ill, to suddenly know she is gone forever is very life altering, Take care Lisa and know you have been devoted and done the best for her. She will always be alive because part of her lives within you in so many ways. Don’t forget that. Time helps and be good to yourself. Sending hugs to you, Kim

  79. Sending condolences to you and your family, Lisa. May you together fine moments of joy as you remember her life and love.

  81. Lisa,

    I’ve been reading you for a while now, and each time I read your thoughts on caring for your mother, I’m vehemently nodding my head in assent on this side of the computer screen. Even though we are unlike in every way, I feel as though you & I are kindred spirits when its comes to parental units.
    All the same, sorrow is sorrow, and I know you feel bereft.

    Rose

  82. Dear Lisa,

    My heartfelt condolences. I am mostly quiet here, but have listened intently as you talked about culture, work, love, fashion, politics and being a mom, daughter and wife. Particularly, I am watching how you have navigated this time with your mom, I’ve needed a few pointers on this uncertain road and you have been generous with what you are feeling and learning. I wish you peace and grace in this sad and difficult time.

  83. I’m so sorry for your loss. Even when they are ready, and you think you’re prepared, it is hard. I just lost my aunt who was like my mother at age 93, and my mother-in-law who also had Alzheimer’s at age 95.

  84. I’m so sorry for your loss. Even when they are ready, and you think you’re prepared, it is hard. I just lost my aunt who was like my mother at age 93, and my mother-in-law who also had Alzheimer’s at age 95.

  85. That was tough.
    Now it’s done.
    Hugs Kiddo, wish I had a daughter like you, or could BE a daughter like you. xox

  86. My deepest sympathy to you Lisa –
    Your words again an inspiration – may time help the pain begin to fade and your special memories become stronger.
    Warm thoughts and prayers across the miles to you and your family x

  87. Even though expected it is a loss that pulls at your heart. You have my sincere sympathy. So glad to hear you and your sisters were together at the end.

  88. May you find comfort from your family at this time as you grieve together. Blessings

    TJ Xxxxx

  89. My thoughts are with you during this difficult time. Sending friendship, understanding and support your way.

  90. Death is weird. They’re there, and then they’re not. My brother died of early onset Alzheimer’s on my birthday last year. It was in his sleep, and was unexpected. I’m glad you were able to sit with her as she was leaving.

  91. Dear Lisa:

    My deepest condolences, to you and your family. From what you have written over the years, it is clear that your mother was a very special woman, who raised wonderful children.

    Kind regards,
    Bitsy

  93. Lisa, I am very sorry for your loss. My mom died in 2011. It is very difficult when you lose someone that you love deeply and then see the rest of the world just going on their way as if a tragic loss had not happened. There is a very big disconnect between you in your grief and the rest of the world.

  94. May you piece together your memories with joy and sadness as needed. Your attitude is inspiring.

  95. Dearest, you have already shared so many moments spent with Nancy right here on these pages, all of them polished and publishable as they are. Taken together with a few more observations, they’d make a fantastic collection of essays as your next book. Lost count, but I think you have one week remaining on sofa duty, sending much love to you as you sit and sift things through. xo

  96. I only read blogs on the weekend, so I am just now seeing this. I send you all my sympathy. How lovely she looks in this photo, smile or not, and I’m glad that you had her for such a long life. Take care of yourself through this.

  98. Blessings to you. I hope you receive, abundantly, all that you need during this time and onwards.

  99. Dear Lisa,

    My deepest sympathies for your loss. Holding you and your family in the light, as the Quakers say.
    Warmly,
    Sarah (A reader who seldom comments but is grateful for your presence here.)

  100. Dear Lisa, I’ve just now seen this post. That is a beautiful portrait (in words and photograph) of your mother. My condolences to you and your family.

  102. My dear, I only know you through your blog and Twitter posts. But I grieve for you, teared up for you. May your mourning help you and your family adjust to your loss. You were clearly a devoted and loving daughter.

  103. Wishing you peace as you wrap yourself in the memories that define your mother, yourself and your families. Your feelings are your own, and all are valid, but I hope you are also able to find gentle support and guidance with your family in times where the emotions may overwhelm. Sending you love. Cathi

  104. Dear Lisa,

    My heartfelt condolences.

    I wish you and your sisters who shared this moment that you find a healing way to cope with its complexities, together and each on her own.

    Wishing you all the best.

  105. Dear Lisa,
    I send sympathy, love and healing thoughts. Know the grieving process is not linear so be patient and kind with yourself. Mourn in your own way and time.
    I am so deeply sorry.
    Karen

  106. Lisa…Sorry doesn’t seem good enough…Understanding what you feel is suspect…Instead I send you the words of e.e.cummings which have been able to salve the broken heart of this motherless child…

    i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) i am never without it
    (anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by me is your doing)

    i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

    Time is the wise old friend to make this bearable….

  109. Lisa,

    I am deeply sorry for your loss. You have etched an indelible archetype in your many descriptions of her through your previous entries. I am sad for you.

    xo

  111. So very sorry, Lisa. Even though we know all our lives that we’ll likely outlive them, it comes as a shock. I don’t have any more words, because there aren’t words to describe the loss of a mother, even a mother who hadn’t mentally been there for a long time (as was the case with mine as well). I send you a hug of sympathy and understanding across the internet.

  114. Such beautiful words – and her passing seems to have been in the best of all possible circumstances. My parents are 97 and 92 and I can’t help but think that their time is coming and hope/pray that they have as peaceful and comforting a time as possible (and that we all do). Everyone has to get out of here somehow.
    May your mom be rebuilt fully and beautifully in your memory and live with you the rest of your days.

  115. I am late to the table, but my deepest sympathies. It was her time, but it is never easy to be left behind. It is such a blessing that you had some good moments with her recently to remember. I hold on to those after my father’s death.

  116. Dear Lisa, I am so sorry for your loss. My mother went the same way four years ago, and I carry her with me every day. You have my deepest sympathies.

  117. I love, love how you wrote “rebuilding her in my heart now”. What beautiful words that also describe what I’ve done since losing my own mother. Thinking of you and of all of us.

  118. Dear Lisa, I’m a faithful reader of your blog , looking forward to it every Saturday. I truly love what you say and how you say it but, until now, have never posted. I’m so sorry to hear about your Mother’s passing. An earlier blog, sometime in the last year, about a day spent with her, was so moving and beautiful. I’m glad you had that time with her. I lost my Mom 14 years ago, March 25th. It was Good Friday. I know how you feel. It’s godawful, that’s the truth. The pain, it gets easier after time. I’m thinking of you. You have my deepest sympathies.

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