draft of a letter i may or may not distribute to my mother’s friends and family as her death draws near

in

First off, thank you for all you've done for my mother over the last few years. I've known we were on borrowed time since she was diagnosed with cancer in 2013: I was able to give her an existence – you were able to give her the life she wanted. Know that I truly appreciate all that you've done.

But I also need to lay out some boundaries as we move through this situation.

I have, over the last ten years, put my own health, mind, marriage, career, and spirit at considerable risk doing everything humanly possible to keep my mother, your friend, your daughter, your cousin, your whatever, alive and healthy. I have been at her beck and call, heeding each of her demands, realistic or not, as best I could. I have done all of this because it is the right thing to do – because it is the job that needs doing.

And right now, my job is to see to it that her final wishes are followed to the letter; to see that her body is delivered to where she wishes it to be; that her life be erased, bit by bit, in accordance with her last will and testament; and, finally, to give her father, my grandfather, the best life possible in whatever time he has left.

Let me be clear: once she passes, my central concern is the well-being of my grandfather. No parent should have to live through the death of a child but this is life: it is chaos and it is pain; it joy and it is sadness; it is day and it is night. I will do everything I can to be the pride and joy that he's called me for all of my 40 years and help him through however much time he is here.

While it is my job to see that her life ends, both physically, and legally, as comfortably as possible over the coming days and weeks, it is up to you to keep her memory with you.

There will be no funeral service, no obituary in the paper. She will be cremated and her remains will be put alongside those of her husband. This is the letter of her last wishes, and I will honor them as such.

However: after some time has passed (read: let me get her apartment cleaned out, legal stuff taken care of, and find my own equilibrium), if you would like to organize your own thing / celebration of life gathering, you are more than welcome to do so. Please know that, while I will wish you all well with this and endorse, fully, all you want to do, I will have no part in the organization or execution of said gathering. I must move forward.

Further, while I respect, understand, and appreciate your grief, I must ask that you, a.) allow me the space to not only execute the considerable administrative tasks that lie before me but to process the extremely complex emotions I'm processing in these final days with my mother, and b.) not use me as a willow upon which to hang your own grief or your frustrations over your lack of control over the situation: while I have the utmost empathy for you, I am not – CANNOT –, nor will I serve as, your chaplain, therapist, or shoulder to cry on. What I can do is grant your grieving process as much empathy and caring as I can muster in this inordinately difficult and, for me, emotionally complex time; I ask only that you grant a similar respect to the boundaries of mine.

Thank you again for all you have done for her.

Best,

Tyler

things i've learned, realized, and/or accepted over the past several days of watching my mother die

in

Writing this in 15 minutes while I wait to hear back from the nurse with probably news of the inevitable.

  • Hospice people are very nice and utterly delightful to talk with. Listening to them describe their work is beyond fascinating.

  • I'm not as allergic to cats as I thought. I'm looking forward to having a cat again, even if it's for a shorter time frame than is standard (He's 12, after all).

  • My stance on life and death remains the same: life is chaos, death is order. In death, we are restored to order; until then, it's all chaos.

  • While resilient, the body is quite fragile – some more than others, and some by their own mistakes, foolishness, and misplaced faith in their own capacities.

  • It’s been borrowed time since 2013 - and little of it was particularly good.

  • My bedside manner sucks but I get the job done: the coming days and weeks are the curtain call on a role I've had to play – parent to a parent – for 25 years.

  • I can, indeed, put my fist through an electric stovetop.

  • I’ve spoken to more people on the phone in the last few days than I have in the last ten years and I'm still not a fan.

  • I don't owe anyone anything.

  • I am not sad though I won't rule out the possibility once the dust settles. Too much whirlwind, external and in-. Many complicated feelings.

  • There will be many, many Christmas ornaments, QVC chotchkes, and tea-cozy mysteries to donate. Should you require any, hit me up.

  • I still hate cleaning cat litter. Don't suppose I can teach a 12-year-old cat to use the toilet, can I?

Im sure there will be more but this is the most processing I can do right now. Also: Kirby is eating a plant container. Beautiful day, though. Supposed to hit the 80s and then drop into the 50s by next week. How are you? I'm fine, thanks for asking.

brief update re: my fucking back

(previously…)

X-ray results in and there is no evidence of arthritis - rheumatoid or otherwise, fracture, or anything else untoward. Moving forward with doc’s diagnosis that it’s at least one bulging and possibly herniated disc that’s been causing my constantly annoying and annoyingly constant discomfort and / or screaming pain and resultant inability to run uphill at anything more than a limp. Solution: continue doing exercises they gave me (incorporating into my yoga practice as there’s a lot of overlap), heating it, and investment in lumbar-happy office chair and further office ergonomics.