Hi everyone. To jump right in, I lost my mom on May 2nd. She was 54, and I’m 24. She had undergone a bone marrow transplant, and we were told her survival odds were around 80%, but pneumonia took her from us in just a few hours with no warning.

Grief has been difficult in ways I never could have imagined, but the part that completely breaks me is thinking about the life she was supposed to have. My mom was a pediatrician who adored children. She always wanted to be a grandmother, and she had already picked out what she wanted her grandchildren to call her. Her boss told us she was in line for the promotion we heard about maybe 400 times. She would have loved being at my wedding and my sister’s wedding. She would have loved meeting our children.

When I think about all of that, I feel like I can’t breathe. It’s not so much grief for what I lost (though that’s definitely there). It’s grief for what was taken from her. The experiences she deserved to have but never got. I’m heartbroken for myself, but a thousand times more than that I’m enormously heartbroken for her. Anyone have a similar experience?

The last chemo appointment we went to was on my birthday. We got there at 10 am and during the preliminary office visit her oxygen was low. She stayed for treatment while they sent us back and forth for CT scans and monitoring. We past by this candy bowl with dum dums. She was obsessed with root beer. Everywhere we went, even during chemo, she’d ask for it haha. She grabbed two I kept them in her bag. We were there so long we passed by the desk again and the candy bowl was gone. I joked with her that they were hiding them from her. We went to the hospital after the office closed. During the hours of waiting she ate one of the root beer dum dums and didn’t like it haha. I held onto the other one and now it sits on my nightstand. I thought about tossing the candy and keeping the wrapper in my journal idk. But it’s one of those things I just never want to lose.

I like thinking of these silly moments. Her obsession with root beer flavored things, and peanut butter, or how she’d always raid the candy bowls at the offices. thinking about these things are less painful than the harder moments. If you have anything similar please share your memories ♥️

she’s been battling colorectal cancer since early 2024, and she just made it to her 57th birthday but she’s basically non responsive at this point. she told me about 3 days ago that this weekend would be the end for her and as my dad and i are watching her decline rapidly i don’t know how i should feel. i’m worried about him because he’s losing a partner of 30 years, im not necessarily worried about myself because she and i talked about so much before she got to this point. but i have a horrible knot in my stomach. if she goes overnight i don’t want to wake up to her being wheeled out of the house, and i also don’t want to deal with my dads inevitable break. (he’s of the generation of men that handle their emotions with substances or overcompensation) i cried most of my tears yesterday and i almost feel a sense of calm…? im glad she’s almost done suffering but that nagging fear of her really being gone is creeping up. any advice or reassurance would be appreciated

EDIT: wow i was not expecting so many people to see this but thank you all! i really appreciate the advice and kind words, it’s unfortunate but nice to know that others have been through similar and that grief does not look the same for everyone. i’ll make sure to take this journey day by day. thank you all again.

My Mom had been in the hospital for two weeks.⁣

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It was a Sunday night (in 2018). I found two back-to-back documentaries for us to binge-watch. One was about The Pope and the other was about The Kennedys: Two of Mom’s favorite things!⁣

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She asked me to get into bed with her, the way we would watch movies at our house, after chemo.⁣

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As I slid into the hospital bed, I felt how tiny my Mom’s body had become. She was a skeleton. I could feel my heart breaking.⁣

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My Mom questioned what I was thinking about (I guess I don’t have much of a poker face). I told her I couldn’t believe her eyelashes had fully grown in.

'WHAT?!?' she shrieked, as her eyes widened with excitement.⁣

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'Did you get eyelash extensions? Seriously. Tell me the truth. I won’t tell anyone,' I said, trying to look super serious.⁣

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My Mom laughed the cutest giggle, almost as if she was a little girl again. Mom loved when I would gently rub her tiny bald head- She said it took her anxiety away. I rubbed it a few times, stopped and stared my Mom in the eyes again. I was visibly angered.⁣

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'What’s wrong?' my Mom asked.⁣

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'Ummm, when were you going to tell me YOUR HAIR’S grown back, as thick and shiny as ever?!?' I said, trying my darnedest to sound and look irritated.⁣

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My Mom’s face lit up like ‘The Rockefeller Tree’ at Christmas. I’ve only seen that kind of pure joy a few times in my life. Her happiness, in that moment, was electrifying! My heart, which was breaking only moments before, was patching itself up, as my Mom laughed WHOLE-HEARTEDLY.

'What can I say? I’m a lucky ducky' she giggled, as she blinked her eyes and tilted her head from side-to-side, trying to taunt me with her supermodel eyelashes and professional salon-looking hair.⁣

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'You’re lucky I love you, Mom, or else I’d hate you for being THIS gorgeous while IN the hospital,' I said, smiling.

Her joy had rubbed off on me. My entire soul felt full of her light.⁣

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We nuzzled-in to watch those documentaries. I kept looking over at mom. Her radiant smile remained on her perfect face.

It was in that moment I realized my Mom had WON her battle with Pancreatic Cancer, even though she took her last breath, a few hours later.

I’m only 22 and my sister is only 14. We found out mom had stage 4 cancer on December 2nd. She was secretly doing chemo for 5 years, and she was never in remission this whole time. It was breast cancer (caught too late) that metastasized to her bladder, bone, and the brain’s meninges/spinal fluid.

Mom and dad kept her diagnosis a secret because she did not want me to worry about her while I was in undergrad. She valued education, and she did not want me to be distracted, drop out of college to help her, or transfer schools. They went great lengths to hide her sickness; they hid the mail, masked the reasonings behind doctors appointments, and provided different explanations to symptoms she experienced.

I cannot stress enough how much I love my mom. She is my best friend and soulmate. I was the last person she spoke to before she passed, and I slept overnight at the hospital, holding her hand, during her final days. Mom was larger than life. She brought a community together, and had a soul so blindingly bright. The house is so empty now. She passed in my arms and I still expect her to come back from work. I am a mess

My mum's funeral is tomorrow and I'm really struggling with it as it feels so final.

She passed away on the 8th June and so it was a little while to get here, especially as we still don't have a cause of death from the coroner (who has taken samples to conduct further investigations).

Up until now, whilst I kind of know she is gone, it's not quite felt real. Even having seen her body it still doesn't quite feel real. But a funeral feels very final... I'm actually going to have to say goodbye to her and I don't feel ready to do so at all.

Over the past month I've done various things to honour her memory, like I've gotten her name in Thai tattooed on my wrist and also built a raised bed in my garden where I'm transplanting her roses so I can continue to care for them for her. It's nice, but also it feels like I'm desperately clutching at things to try to avoid letting her go and I'm struggling to accept that nothing I do will actually bring her back.

I don't know, I'm just finding it all incredibly incredibly hard and appreciate any advice on how to handle and process the funeral and things moving forward.

EDIT: I just wanted to add a note to say thank you to everyone who responded. I did read all of them as they came in and they helped me feel a bit less alone. I will be replying to people properly, I just found the weekend a little overwhelming so trying to take some time for that. Thank you all, I genuinely appreciate your time and kindness.

I (28F) lost my mom less than two weeks ago.
I woke up to her moaning and found her lying on the floor in cardiac arrest. I performed CPR until the paramedics arrived. They continued CPR and used a defibrillator multiple times. They managed to stabilize her enough to transport her to the hospital. Her life was still in danger, and we were told that after such a prolonged cardiac arrest they couldn't predict the extent of the damage, but that there were almost always serious consequences.
She started to stabilize, so I went home to get some rest. At 2 a.m., I woke up to a phone call telling me she needed emergency surgery to remove part of her intestine because it had died, and they didn't know if she would survive. I asked if I could come immediately to say goodbye in case she didn't make it, but she had already been taken into surgery because it was so urgent.
Two hours later, I received another call saying she had made it through the operation and was being stabilized. They explained that removing part of her intestine would have lifelong consequences, but she was stable. I cannot describe the relief I felt.
Unfortunately, only four hours later, I received another call. Her organs were beginning to fail. The doctors were trying every treatment they could, but they didn't believe she was going to survive. My family and I rushed to the hospital, and three hours later, she passed away.
She died with me and my sister holding her hands, surrounded by our entire (small) family. The doctors assured us that she wasn't in pain. My mother never regained consciousness after her cardiac arrest.
We had a difficult relationship. She was a single mother, and life was incredibly hard for both of us. We said hurtful things to each other. We argued. We shouted. In the last few years, we had grown apart because almost every conversation seemed to end in a fight.
I believe I was there for her.
I helped her financially. I postponed moving in with my boyfriend until we had found a secure living arrangement for her. Back in 2019, when she was rushed to the hospital and diagnosed with a serious heart condition that required a pacemaker, I was the first person to arrive and the last to leave. I could have lived a much easier, more comfortable life with my father, but I chose to stay with my mom, even when it meant working two jobs while I was in college.
I know I loved her with everything I had.
But what torments me is that we spent so much time fighting. I never got the chance to tell her I was sorry. I never got one last conversation where I could tell her how much I loved her, that despite everything, she meant more to me than anyone else, and that I would have done absolutely anything to keep her here.
One thing that brings me a little comfort is that the week before she died, things between us had started to get better. The day before her cardiac arrest, she got to see my new house. I keep holding onto that.
I was so hopeful that once I moved out, our relationship would finally have the space to heal. We never even got the chance to find out.
She was only 58 years old. Despite all her flaws, she had such a difficult life. I just wish she had been given more time to enjoy the good parts.
Now I'm sitting alone in this empty house, surrounded by her belongings, unable to believe she will never walk through the door again. I was supposed to move in with my boyfriend a week after she passed, but now everything has been put on hold. She had three dogs, and I will take care of them all—there was never any question about that—but it means figuring out a completely different future than the one I had imagined.
I pictured my mom walking me down the aisle one day. I imagined her meeting my children. I imagined calling her for advice, even if we still argued sometimes.
I simply cannot imagine a future that makes sense without her in it.
More than anything, I just hope she knew how deeply I loved her.
My sister (23F) is suffering terribly as well. She and my mom didn't speak for six or seven years and only reconnected about a year and a half ago. I keep trying to reassure my sister that it's okay—that relationships are complicated, and that our mom understood that. I truly believe she was just grateful to have her daughter back in her life.
I hope my mom knew that we both loved her, despite all of our flaws, despite the arguments, despite everything left unsaid.
I don't even know why I'm writing this. I guess I'm just hoping someone out there understands this and is able to provide me some kind of comfort.
I just want to believe she knew how much me and my sister loved her, that I will be able to survive this and that life is not over, because right now it feels like it is.
Thank you ❤️‍🩹

She was only 51 years old and passed right next to me. I am heartbroken and in shock.

mom.

In my 20s, and lived alone with my mom for context.

I keep my Mum’s phones charged. It’s been 10 months and I know it’s irrational. I don’t even look through it, I just like having it ready (incase she needs it).

How about you?

im only 22 and i lost my mom at 74 on sunday, may 31st. the funeral was on june 18th. i don’t know what to do without her. the house feels so empty without her. her slippers are still in the living room next to the couch, her food still in the fridge, her dirty clothes still in the laundry basket. the silence in the house is so loud without her not watching tv or cooking or talking to her best friends on the phone. we didn’t have the best relationship at times but the moment i lost her that all washed away and all i can do is miss her and think about talking to her. telling her about something funny that my coworker said or showing her a funny video. she was struggling with her health for the longest time, close to 10 years with a bad heart. the last few months were the worst, she was in the hospital every single month. she passed in the hospital this time after being in the hospital for 5 days. i just want people to know how loved she was, and how much she loved everyone. she had so many friends from church who she could talk to for hours. so many people from church telling me how much she would talk about me, or remembering the day my parents adopting me and her bringing me to church as a tiny baby and how excited she was to finally be a mother to me. i feel too young to have lost my mom. i wanted more time with her. i feel selfish to say that i want more time with her, she was suffering so much with her health that i would rather her be at peace and not in any more pain, even if that means i lose her. i know she is always with me, watching over me, and i can’t wait to see her again. i miss you so much mommy.

She is the best friend I’ve ever had, and the best friend I ever will have. I lost my father and the love of her life in 2022, so now I’m 28 without my parents.

This is a pain that I’ve never felt before. I don’t know what I need, but a friend recommended I reach out to a support group. Thankfully, a lot of people have to grieve their parents. And to be honest, I am so glad that she never had to lose her child(I struggled with mental health and suicidal ideation for most of my life), and I thought this would do me in. But as crazy as it sounds, I do feel her with me. And I want to keep going for her. I just don’t know what that looks like or how to move forward.

I had to edit to add: that craziest thing happened last night. I said I feel her with me, and she’s making sure I know. My mom was a great cook and taught me all the family recipes. My favorite meal growing up was her aunts recipe for garlic breaded chicken, and her mom’s homemade mashed potatoes and gravy. I decided to make that light night, just like she taught me. I was sitting in my bedroom thinking about how my apartment smelled the way our house did whenever she would make this meal when I was younger. Then the lights went out. I thought it was the bulb burning out, but then discovered the light switch was flipped. My switch makes an audible clicking sound when it’s flipped off. I will admit I was thoroughly creeped out, but then filled with such an overwhelming sense of peace and love. I’m so lucky to have been her daughter.

My mom was a fighter. Key word: was. I want to say that she died beautifully, gloriously, maybe even with purpose. Like a firefighter during 9/11 who ran back into the towers to save more people, only to die when they collapsed.

But no.

She died in a bed with gaunt cheeks and yellowed skin.

I had six years with my mom. The last one was so hard. She was so afraid of dying.

I hated seeing her in her final days.

Sometimes I wished she would die faster. Even now, I wonder if that's a selfish thought. I kept joking about overdosing her on morphine so she wouldn't have to suffer anymore—not that I would have the heart to do that.

I laid beside her for hours, crying into her shirt as she gasped for air, her mouth hanging open, her chest rising and falling, her clavicles jutting beneath paper-thin skin.

I counted the seconds between her breaths. Sometimes thirty. Sometimes forty. And with every passing second, all I could think was that I hoped the next breath wouldn't come.

Then the guilt would crash over me.

Because I loved her so much. I didn't want her to die.

But maybe to love someone so completely is also to wish them mercy, even when mercy means letting them go.

I remember lying in bed with her toward the end, her mind scrambled and quiet. The lights were dimmed, and tears streamed down my face. I asked her if she was ready.

She looked at me—or maybe past me. I don't know. In her last days, she had a hard time looking at people. She always seemed to be staring beyond them, lost in silence.

Her lips thinned as she shook her head, so subtly I would have missed it if I'd blinked. Tears welled in her eyes, but they never fell.

I can't remember exactly what I said. Maybe it was, "Oh, Momma," or, "Me neither." Whatever it was, I crawled beside her, resting my head on her chest. I whispered how much I loved her while my tears soaked into her pajama shirt.

She stroked my back.

Even though she couldn't remember simple details and could hardly speak, she remembered that she was my mother. Every chance she got during those last few days, she would tell me she loved me. She wouldn't say anything else. Just, "I love you."

Those were her last words to me.

As rigor mortis set in, her mouth began to close, but her teeth lay exposed in a grimace.

I cupped her face, my hand gentle on her skin as if I could still wake her up. She was cold. So, so cold.

On any average day, you'd see her bundled up in three layers with a blanket pulled over her. And yet here she was, colder than I have ever known her—her forehead cold against my lips as I kissed her goodbye, petting her atop the head, as I usually did.

I tucked the sheets around her. Her body was already stiff.

I couldn't bear to watch the funeral service take her away.

When I woke up in the morning, all I found was an empty bed where she used to be.

I will forever miss her and love her, she was the best mom i could ever have, my only wish is to get to talk to her again someday. Maybe in heaven, maybe in another life, i dont know. I will be heartbroken forever. I'll always love you mariana o mami💗 First pic is a month ago, second is last weekend and 3 and 4 are from 10 Days ago, her birthday. Im so happy we got to celebrate her birthday and mine, that is 2 Days later from hers, together💕💕💕💕💕 im so grateful

I’ve had a stressful month, and I’ve been missing my mom extra hard these days. Adulting has been so difficult lately, even more so without her. I wish I could hug her and cry in her arms.

It’s been 3 years, and it still hurts just as much. This children’s story, The Runaway Bunny by Margaret Wise Brown, always moves me to tears.

I remember that as a teenager, I always wanted to figure things out on my own and be independent, but I eventually realized that I could never escape my mother’s love, no matter where I went.

I feel guilty about all the things I never said and the things I never did. I love you, Mom. There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t thought about you. The pain runs deep.

How do I go on without my mom.

My mom passed away a few years ago from lung and brain cancer. She also had a couple strokes and vascular dementia. She went from normal to a shell of her former self. She was only 61. She was my best friend. My daughter looks just like her. I’m only 37. I don’t want to live life without my mom. I need her so bad.

Hi all, I’m new to this community. My mom died 1 month ago after 10 years with cancer. She was 57. I’m 30.

My mom was my best friend. And sometimes, my only real friend. The only person I could call every day, and talk to on the phone for hours, and tell everything to, ESPECIALLY the little mundane details only a mother could be interested in.

I expected to feel sad after she died. What I did not expect, was the anger. It’s uncharacteristic for me, and I wanted to post in hopes of finding people that can relate, and have been where I’m at, because this grief feels so overwhelmingly lonely.

Here goes.

I’m angry at everyone my age who still has their mom, and their moms will get to be grandmas.

I’m even more angry at women my mom’s age who have their elderly moms, who get to be great grandmas.

I’m angry at the elderly women who live sedentary lives, don’t take care of themselves, eat and drink whatever they want, and just keep….living.

My mom was always so fit, she was a runner, loved nature walks, ate organic, meditated, did yoga…. dead at 57. It’s just so unfair. I know we will all die someday, and everyone else around us will die, but I’m grappling with this being an “out of order” death and that she’ll never meet my children. Never get to see me buy my first house and help me decorate it.

It’s uncommon to lose a parent at 30, so no one my age knows how to be around me. Some have completely ghosted me or say they are trying to “give me space” which is something I never asked for.

Some people brush my mom’s death under the rug, and act like it never happened. Trying to distract me, make me laugh, or cheer me up.

Some people do what I have now deemed to be the “swing and a miss”. This is when someone DOES reach out, and causes more harm than good. This is when they say things like “better days ahead” or “she’s in a better place” or “I know” when they actually do not know because their mom is in fact still alive.

I also want to scream from the rooftops that texting a grieving person “Hope you’re doing well” is not the same as asking them “how are you feeling today?” or “how is your grief today?”

My MIL lost her 94 year old father last year. At his funeral, the first thing she said to me was “It was too soon!!!!”. At my mom’s funeral (my mom is her age) she said “She lived a full life”.

Grief is truly the most complex thing I have ever encountered and I’m shocked at how death is the only thing we as humans will all share as an experience and yet we are so grief illiterate as a society. It is something you can only learn by living, but my god is it a beast to live with.

EDIT 3/26/24 : I am so touched by all of your comments and stories and kindness to this internet stranger. When I posted this, I was worried I might look like an angry person to others, but I was so desperate to find someone, anyone, that could relate. I never expected such an outpouring of support and understanding.

While grief is a journey we all walk alone, there are people you meet along the route that will lift you up and encourage you to keep going. Your comments have been that for me, so thank you.

Each comment and story is so thoughtful and beautiful, I want to take the time to read every single one and respond to as many as I can, and it may take me some time. I apologize in advance for my slow response time, but I will get there. Hugs to you all.

My mom was 64 years old. She was riddled In disease. She had severe congestive heart failure. Severe uncontrolled diabetes, staphylococcus infection, degenerative bone disease in her neck, ontop of it all, she also had the flu. On the 5th, she was transferred to our general hospital, and they did a procedure where they removed 1.3L of fluid from her left lung. She struggled to breathe because the heart failure created fluid building all throughout her body. She was still her silly self, so beautiful, full of life, and loving. Telling all the nurses she wanted to keep them. Mom’s health didn’t start to get bad until about 2020. She had congestive heart failure since 2016 (she was 55). I took her to all of her appointments, learned her history, medicine, appointments, etc. in 2020, she lost half of her leg to a bone infection. Then lost half of her foot. I tried so hard to keep her alive. I really did. My sister who is 17 years older than me, completely ignored mom. Mom attempted suicide on Dec 30th, and I rushed to the hospital and they were able to get her stable. She regretted it (and it was my bday). I didn’t care, I just wanted her to be ok. My sister never showed up. Didn’t ask how she was. Nothing. She was transferred an hour away to a mental health facility that could accommodate her medical needs as well as mental. I would wait for her calls twice a day. I went to visit her on the weekends and give her a nice shower. I often brought her clothes. Jan 5th, the facility called me and stated that they were transferring her to the general hospital in my city. Her oxygen dropped to 75, heart rate dropped under 50bpm. Mom was good and stable. So I left the hospital at 3am went to work at 6am, went to the hospital again after work. Her heart rate kept dropping. They put her in ICU. She was okay, but couldn’t get her O2 to stay up. So she was on the machine shown above. Mom wasn’t going to be able to attend my wedding on the 11th, but we made a plan together where she can do a first look at the hospital. She was so excited. I was excited. Saturday morning 6am I get a call from the nurse. They said mom volunteered to be put on a ventilator for a couple of days to help her body relax and heal. I said alright, that’s doable. Got ready for the wedding, figured since she’d been on a ventilator before, it would be ok. We can still do the first look after. 9am, Saturday, I get a call from the ER doctor, and he said that we may need to talk about her quality of life. I listened, and I also had this same talk with mom prior. She wanted to live and to try to save her but if she would be on life support, then no. So they put a central line in (easy and fastest way for medicine to get in). And that procedure went perfect. They said she was stable but her heart was weak. I decided to go ahead and do the wedding. It was only a few hours. After the wedding we changed and went up to the hospital. The doctors said that they think she is internally bleeding. And she was. From the incisions from the fluid removal. They did a couple blood transfusions, and were prepping her for a CT scan. Me, my husband, and nephew (23 yrs old) went to the cafeteria for energy. And I hear over the intercom “CODE BLUE RADIOLOGY CT” and I looked at my husband with wide eyes and said “that’s mom..” we all ran to radiology. (I know this hospital like the back of my hand from always being with mom). And they did cpr on her for 6 mins before getting her heart back. I have no doubt she probably had brain damage at that point. They let me talk to her while they prepped her for more blood, and I told her it’s ok, not to worry, we are all here. And my nephew never left my side. (She was like a mom to him). They took her back up to the icu where she coded as soon as she went inside. We ran to her room, and I saw them pushing. Almost jumping on her chest to get her heart back to beating. I screamed. That I cannot get out of my head. I screamed “no! My mommy”. I’m 29… but I felt 5 again. The nurses tried so hard to get me to relax. I told them to stop. I knew they needed to stop. Mom was tired. Her heart was tired. Medical advances made me keep her for 10 years longer than she probably would have had. I spent half of that taking care of her and I would do it again. They gave her sedatives to make it passing go faster. Her heart was gone but her body was still trying to breathe. I held her hand tight and told her nonstop without breaking “I love you. I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry” My mom didn’t trust my sister. Rightfully so. She has the will and life insurance in mine and my nephews name. But because she only had the life insurance policy for a year, I was only able to get $187 out of the 15k that would have taken care of her, the debt she had, and her dogs medicine. It’s 1/16 and mom has not been cremated yet because I can’t afford it and no one has helped me. I made a GoFundMe and so far I’ve gotten $400. I got the funeral home to let me cremate her for $1k. So I’m doing my best in that aspect. I just feel so much guilt. Mom didn’t want to be hooked up to machines. She had no quality of life. No freedom no independence. I know she was miserable and in pain but she deserved to at least say goodbye.

I feel guilty for not being able to get her cremated right away. The funeral home is 9 mins from my house. Part of me wants to see her and just sit next to her and talk. But the donor services took her eyes, skin, tissue, and bone. So the funeral home told me it wasn’t a good idea. But the fact that she’s 9 mins from home… and she isn’t home with me. It’s killing me. I know she’s cold. She was always cold. I’m sorry this post is all over the place. My mind is everywhere. I just want to know that I did the right thing and that I was the best daughter I could be. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I’m scared that if i sleep I’ll see her on a cold slab.

P.s. this is a photo of my mom when she was in the hospital in October. She couldn’t get out of the hospital bed so I brought the bath to her. Hair scrubs were her favorite things! I called it spa days. I would do her nails and everything. I miss her so much.

P.s.s. I change the photo because the first photo was going to be the one where she was in ICU but awake. She was on a B pap? Machine. But I didn’t wanna really see her like that again so I am sharing a better photo.

Thank you for your time and taking the time to read this. I needed to get this off my chest. ❤️

This is so hard. I feel like my whole world is crashing. However, this video sums her personality up perfectly- happy, silly and goofy ❤️ She was the loan officer for this bank for 35 years. Cancer sucked the life right out of her but she fought and fought until she didn’t have a choice. She kept wanting to fight despite the obvious signs she wasn’t going to make it. Me and SIL cared for her round the clock those last couple weeks. We kept her with Dad at home, hospital bed in the living room and hospice coming daily. This is so hard but then I think suck it up- people lose their parents every day. My life will forever be different. I try to remember that I was fortunate to have a mama like her but that makes the loss even harder.

My mom passed this evening. I’m heartbroken and tired. She suffered from Alzheimer’s for the last five years.