Life. Again.


My mother died on Tuesday. She stopped eating and drinking again the same day I arrived, maybe it was chance, maybe she waited for me – whatever it was, I’m happy I could stay with her to the very end. A very peaceful end despite the fact she was in great pain, the nurses gave her morphine as soon as we saw that she was suffering and I will always be grateful for that. When I sat there I felt torn between the wish to keep her with me forever and accepting life and her own choice but I obviously knew that I could do nothing else that be as close to her as possible. It was as if her disease ( she suffered from Alzheimer’s disease for over 12 years) was gone and she was just dying and I’m happy I just saw her and nothing else between us. Not that her illness has been a big problem really, of course I have grieved the loss of who she was and loosing a mother but she still remained herself in a strange way, she managed to keep her dignity. Many people think that I have already grieved her and yes, I have but they don’t realize that you develop a different relationship that means as much to you as the one you had before, at least to me it has meant very much to have learnt to communicate with her in a different way and on different premises, a world so far from the one we live in. So I grieve her as much as I grieved (and grieve) my father but maybe it’s easier to accept this time. Maybe.

And that’s all I have to say about that. For now.