Second-guessing…

I hate when I start second-guessing myself, especially when it’s something important.

Yesterday in the production kitchen, I silently talked to my deceased grandmother Nana, my mother’s mother. I heard her tell me to “Call the priest…administer Last Rites.”

That’s exactly what I did, the social worker called the priest, and he would be visiting my mother in the late afternoon.

I thanked Nana for the advice and felt good about my decision until we got to the care facility last night.

I asked if the priest came, and the nurses taking care of my mother said yes. I asked if she knew a priest was there. Yes, she knew, and it frightened her. She became distraught, freaking out. She kept asking if she was dying. This I didn’t expect to happen; I appreciated their honesty with me. I immediately started second-guessing myself and if it was even Nana’s message or just a stupid idea I came up with on my own.

When I saw my mother Sunday night, things looked grim, worse than grim. She was completely out of it, but she could hear us and respond a tiny bit. I never imagined in a million years she would become frightened if a priest showed up.

I started to cry in the hallway when I was talking to the nurses. They tried to console me, telling me it was the right thing to do, especially if it was something she would have wanted. She would have wanted it. I knew she would have.

Despite what Marty and the nurses told me, I felt terrible that she was so frightened. Who wouldn’t be? I didn’t think she’d be so alert. What’s done is done, and I can’t go back and change it. Everything I’ve ever done or bought was never the right decision when it came to my mother, so this isn’t any different. This is a true statement; I am not looking for sympathy.

Marty and I left the care facility after talking and sitting with her for a while. When I got home, my oldest son, Noah, wanted to say goodbye to grandma. I went back with him because I didn’t want him to have to go through it alone.

It’s heartbreaking to watch a parent dying, but watching my children visiting her is even more heartbreaking. It’s a sad situation. I was able to pull it together and was strong, calming, and supportive to Noah. Thank god I got my shit together to be able to accomplish this for him.

I prepared Noah how she looked, but it was still shocking for him, I know. He spoke to her, brought up some private jokes they had when he was little, and told her how much he loved her. We only stayed for a few minutes; she didn’t respond to us at all. I reassured Noah she heard him and knew he was there.

After we left, I know Noah felt grateful he got to say goodbye and have some closure. He told her as he was leaving not to be scared, Pop-pop would be there. He could never say goodbye to his other grandparents when they passed away, so this was very important to him.

Today I haven’t heard anything. I was on the road all day making deliveries after production this morning. Every time I wanted to call to see how she was, I didn’t have cell service, or I knew it was a bad time for the nurses to come to the phone.

I just got off the phone with one of her nurses that I really like and admire. She said things were the same; she was in pain today and was still getting morphine and her other meds. She was due for more morphine, the nurse told me; she would be able to sleep. I decided after a long day of working and driving to visit her tomorrow.

The care facility has been wonderful to her and us. The nurse told me I could call as much as I wanted to and, of course, visit as often as well. They took turns sitting with her, so she wasn’t alone. One of her former physical therapists was sitting with her last night when we arrived. It’s reassuring knowing she isn’t alone.

I still feel bad about the Last Rites, but I am ok with my decision. I’d rather be ok with it than regret that I didn’t do it. We will not have a formal funeral mass, so I wanted this for her.

Thank you so much for listening, you’re kind words and comments mean a lot, especially at a time like this. Thank you for being on this difficult part of the journey with me. ❤️