Thru the years I’ve been on Twitter, I tried to keep going even when personal issues from real life were kicking my ass. I always had “My Anchor”, the stable factor in my life, Mom. Even when she had Alzheimer’s and was confined to the nursing home, something about the fact that she was still in this world, was reassuring to me.
Although, I don’t think I have to explain why a Mom is so important, my Mom was my link to my family, to my past…the one person who, for 62 years, had given me unconditional love, even when I didn’t deserve it. I always saw my Mom as indestructible, as someone who could be anything, and, even with the Alzheimers, relative to others at her advanced state, she still had a bit of a sense of humor, still a genuinely wonderful person who was met with respect and love from all those who took care of her.
Mom was 89…and if you’ve ever talked with attorneys, you find out that the court system and juries, don’t view someone that old as worth much, unless they are a multi-billionaire. Well, to me, she was the most valuable person / most valuable thing in the universe.
I attribute her death to the horrible treatment at the first hospital which, when others have seen the records, including attorneys, have agreed that the records suggest there was an effort to kill her. She was given meds she never had before, meds with serious adverse reactions, was denied breathing treatments when she came in with pneumonia, taken off all meds she had been on for years when she was admitted…and not one doctor out of 20 could give a reason for this.
When I saw the depth, the infection of the decubitus ulcers on her back (four), I had to leave the room. I am not someone who has never seen horrible infections nor injuries…but Mom’s condition was worse than any pictures I have seen in pictures and videos of concentration camp survivors. Her brain was still functioning at the end. They said she needed a pacemaker, but since she was sick and old, they would not install one (and that was at the “good” hospital).
My rage and anger is something like I’ve never felt. When a loved one has been treated this way, and when in your opinion, that treatment was the proximate cause of her death, and you are scheduled to pick up the ashes of your Mother because of all this, I feel this anger is justified.
That said, I vacillate between extreme anger and extreme sadness. I believe this may color the way I react to things, and I certainly don’t want my TL to become Melancholy Road. I have a lot in the real world that I have to take care of, that stems from my Mother’s death and these things will be time consuming.
That said, I will try to answer DMs, but if I don’t answer them right away, please don’t think I am ignoring you. Chances are, I am just not there to respond.
I appreciate the kindness we have received more than I can say. The condolences, kind words, sympathetic sentiments have been very important to us (my wife and me). I truly, truly appreciate each and every one of them. It just validates my ongoing assertion that my followers are the best.
Please do not let my temporary absence lessen your dedication to protection of the innocents, children, animals, and all the others who are disempowered and need your voice, your advocacy. I know that you care every bit as much as I do, and know you will keep pushing forward.
I want to close with some quotes from people who are far wiser than I, and far more elegantly articulate:
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.
The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing… not healing, not curing… that is a friend who cares.
There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Tears are the silent language of grief.
I wasn’t prepared for the fact that grief is so unpredictable. It wasn’t just sadness, and it wasn’t linear. Somehow I’d thought that the first days would be the ~Meghan O’Rourke
Grief changes shape, but it never ends.
Don’t send me flowers when I’m dead. If you like me, send them while I’m alive.
“When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home.
Namaste / Peace from Anon99