My mother grew up in Europe in an alcoholic home, married a psychologically abusive, but successful / charming physician and was forced to move to Canada against her will, giving up her family and unable to see them for 30+ years.
She developed bipolar affective disorder and attempted suicide many times when I was growing up. She was very strong and could be difficult but loving. She was misdiagnosed with Parkinson’s, then rediagnosed with hydrocephalus in later life (neurosurgery at 70-undiscovered until her behaviour caused most family to cut off for 1yr!) Suffice it to say it was a challenging child/teen/adult-hood. My sibling moved away, leaving me to deal with everything mom-related. She remarried, thank God.
After years of successful treatment/ neurosurgery, her shunt began to fail and the drs attributed her symptoms to delerium, bipolar, infections (she went septic). Her husband tried, but didn’t help me get her to medical treatment, even after multiple arguments that something was very wrong. Finally after 1.5 yrs of my advocacy re: behavior changes/personality changes/profound illness complicating it all, she had successful reparative neurosurgery at 84!
I finally had a beautiful version of my mother in my life, and I thought we had 10 more years to build connection. Two weeks later, she was diagnosed with untreatable stage 4 cancer, moved to longterm care, then hospice, then kicked out for being too well. She died in longterm care 8 months from her diagnosis. I spent over 400 days with her at hospitals and facilities, while working full time. Through this, I survived Covid, leaving a business, nursing my mother-in-law through cancer, losing her right as I started another business, then reducing work to part time. All this with ZERO support from my sole sibling, who I cut out of my life because of it. Rage doesn’t even begin to cover my feelings towards him…I have no other family in Canada. My husband was supportive. I have some good friends.
I don’t regret any of the days I spent with her, even though it was exhausting, I have no regrets, no guilt, and I know I did the absolute best I could for her. I accepted the diagnosis, pre-grieved somewhat, then leaned in for all the goodness I could get in those final months.
We had good times, I know she loved me deep down, but I never got exactly what I needed: A mom who could show she truly loved me. And more time with that love. I feel peace/relief regarding her life and death. And I’m still in survival mode after planning her memorial, internment and partial return of ashes to England.
I am left numb, wondering when I will grieve…later? Did I pre-grieve already? I’m aware I am in that initial shock & idealizing, and later more complicated feelings will come. My grief will be complex. Also, know I did everything I possibly could and more than most could bear.
I’m sure someone will be along to offer their support, but I just wanted to let you know that you have been heard and you are not alone.