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AFTER WATCHING MY wife bake a loaf of wheat bread, I thought I’d try making my mother’s cornbread. Luckily, I kept her recipe, along with those for some of her other delicious dishes.
My mother’s recipes can bring back cherished memories—like the time I visited my parents when they still had their dog. Brandy would always greet me when I walked in the front door. She’d jump up and down knowing I would give her a treat. Not this time. I found her in the kitchen, sitting in front of the oven, waiting patiently for my mother to take out the cornbread. Brandy loved it as much as I did.
My mother never attended college, but she was sharp as a tack and had good common sense. I’d still seek her advice when she was in her 90s.
I remember when a contractor gave me a quote for some work I wanted done on my condo. She advised me not to accept the first offer. “The initial quote is going to be high because they’re expecting you to make a counteroffer,” she warned me.
When I was her caregiver, I would tell my friends that I sometimes thought she was watching over me, instead of me watching over her.
The tough part about being a caregiver for a senior is you’re responsible for someone who’s at a stage in life that’s inherently difficult. The days leading up to my mother’s death caught me flat-footed. I wish I’d been better prepared.
My parents never had a letter of last instruction. But my dad told me about their investments, so I knew about their finances. I also knew they had a cemetery plot big enough for both of them. They bought it in 1995 for $10,245. But they asked me to try to sell it because they decided they wanted to be cremated.
Pacific View Memorial Park wouldn’t buy it back, though an employee told me the plot was now worth about $30,000. Unfortunately, it was early 2009 and the economy was in bad shape. There wasn’t a market for burial plots. We decided to keep it and put my parents’ ashes there.
During my father’s long battle with lymphoma cancer, one of our biggest concerns was making sure the cost of his care didn’t deplete my parents’ savings to the point where it would jeopardize my mother’s financial security. As a result, we never used a caregiving service.
When my father started hospice care in 2012, my sister, brother-in-law and I took turns helping my mother care for him. We kept his bed in the living room where he’d be close to us. My brother-in-law or I would sleep on the couch, so there was always someone with him.
Hospice provided everything we needed, including a bed and morphine for pain. They also sent someone periodically to bathe and shave my dad, and even brush his teeth. A nurse would occasionally show up to check his vital signs and make sure we had everything we needed to keep him as comfortable as possible.
This around-the-clock care lasted for three months. Since my father was a veteran of World War II, the federal government provided a marker for his grave. We cremated his body and placed it in their cemetery plot.
In October 2019, my 96-year-old mother had a serious heart attack. The doctor told me there wasn’t much that could be done for her. I was advised to prepare her for hospice care. My sister and I decided it would be best if my mother didn’t know her life was coming to an end. She had seen what my father went through and it weighed heavily on her. We knew she was afraid that she might suffer like my father did.
I made arrangements for a caregiving service. At the time, the hourly rate was $27 an hour. My mother’s savings consisted of $325,000 in highly liquid assets.
The hospital discharged her and sent my mom to a rehabilitation facility that I’d picked out. I waited for her to arrive by ambulance. I couldn’t believe how talkative and energetic she was when she arrived. She talked about going home tomorrow, and moved her legs back and forth in bed. She wasn’t the same person in the hospital, where she’d been quiet and listless.
It was too good to be true. My mother only lived nine more hours. She died peacefully in her sleep. I’ve been told when people are nearing death, they sometimes get this last burst of energy before they pass away. That’s what my mother must have experienced.
When I received the bad news about my mother’s death, it was 1:30 a.m. The head nurse told me I had only a few hours to remove her body. It was the state law.
I wasn’t prepared for this. I hadn’t made the necessary arrangements. I guess I was in denial. I called Pacific View, where my parents had their burial plot. Luckily, they had someone on call 24 hours a day.
I drove to the rehab facility, so I could be there before they took her away. There was a sheet draped over her. I rubbed her hair that was sticking out. Then the nurse helped me take off her wedding ring, which I gave to my sister.
After my father’s death, I wished I had asked my mother this question: Do you want to know when your time is coming to an end? I often thought I should have told my mother that the end was near. Maybe she had a last-minute request or would have confided in me about something that was on her mind. I sometimes think I denied her the opportunity to end her life on her own terms.
My sister said, “We were just trying to protect her.”
Dennis Friedman retired from Boeing Satellite Systems after a 30-year career in manufacturing. Born in Ohio, Dennis is a California transplant with a bachelor’s degree in history and an MBA. A self-described “humble investor,” he likes reading historical novels and about personal finance. Follow Dennis on X @DMFrie and check out his earlier articles.
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https://www.hospicenursejulie.com/
I recommend this book. Much information about dying.
I cried when I read this. Thank you for sharing this and many others that I have enjoyed and learnt from. When my husband was dying, he gave me pages and pages of notes, on finances, his funeral in the midst of COVID travel restrictions, notes on a post-COVID family vacation to Japan that he had been planning, but then he was only 66 years old and there was unfinished business to take care of! He was dying for 15 years and I had gone through those years in tremendous denial, and so the last 3 months in home hospice care allowed us the precious time for me to finally listen to his last wishes to carry on. You said your mother was sharp at 96 years of age. I think she knew she was dying but did not discuss it with you because she wanted to protect you and your sister. That last burst of energy was to let you know that she was going to be OK, she was going home, her true home, our final home.
Mr. Friedman: Thank you for sharing your mom’s story. It’s very moving to me. And so well written. Thank you!
Your thoughtful article prompted me to ask this question of my husband. He was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer 11 years ago and he wanted to know his prognosis then (it was 6 months to 3 years!). He still wants to know but, based on his experience, will likely be skeptical. And I definitely want to know because, historically, having knowledge gives me the hallucination of control.
You were a good son. And you made the right choice. She died knowing she was loved—that is what matters most.
Dennis, I think you did everything just right.
Thanks for the article. I recall my mother’s passing at age 96 in the nursing home. The hospice nurse told me that she had at most 24 hours and I spent the night in her room. I must have fallen asleep only to wake up to realize she had passed away while I was just a few feet from her. I was very upset and felt I should have stayed awake.
Same thing happened to me Nick. 20 years later I’m still thinking about it.
Nick and Dan, I hope you’re able to let go of those regrets. It’s my understanding that for some people, death is instinctively a private thing and they don’t want to pass in front of others. My mom held on for hours beyond what was expected with family at her bedside. When she was left alone momentarily, she passed.
And my wife experienced the same thing with her dad.
It’s possible you did too.
Same situation with my father-in-law. He had been surrounded by his eight children, who had been holding vigil for days. It wasn’t until they all left his room to take a walk, etc., that he let go.
Sounds like you did a great job. Your parents were fortunate.
Everyone is different, but I absolutely want to know if I have a terminal diagnosis, and if I am close to death. Of course, I might drop dead tomorrow, in which case I would have no time to prepare. Meanwhile, my CCRC is scheduling a second set of seminars based on Katy Butler’s “The Art of Dying Well”, which I plan to attend. What I really need at this point is an executor closer than Portland, Oregon….
You are indeed a thoughtful son. We just dealt with a similar situation, but luckily my sister had the foresight to prepare contingencies for transport and burial in advance. It certainly made the passing seem less stressful. May you keep the memories of both your parents close to your heart.
Great article, Dennis. It’s easy to second-guess, but from where I sit, you did everything right. As others have said, you were a good son and supportive family member.
Dennis, thanks for a thoughtful article. We had very good experiences with hospice for both my parents and my in-laws. I remember the “shift” system with my mother especially. We had an extended family and friends chip in a lot of help, but it was my wife that provided the lions share of her care. There are always things we will regret when it comes to end of life care, but in my book you are a kind, caring, great son.
Thanks, Dennis. Good article. We are in the midst of some of the same with our parents. Chris
I think it’s normal to question our actions after loved ones have passed. I think you made the right call.
I’m not sure that I did. I also have questioned the manner of help I provided for my folks near the end of their lives. I discouraged them from doing anything that I felt could lead to injury. It was hard for them to just sit and do nothing while I did the chores that they always enjoyed doing themselves. Looking back I’m sure it gave them a sense of uselessness.
Was I overprotective and controlling? Maybe, maybe not, but my decision, like yours, was made out of love, 100%.
I wrote about this in the Forum a few months ago, but when my mother-in-law died suddenly following cardiac arrest, she and her husband had no final arrangements in place except for burial plots they’d purchased at a cemetery 400 miles north (where other family members are buried). No arrangements with a local mortuary or a plan to transport her body. This led to a stressful scramble for a few days. It all got sorted out, but it definitely convinced me that we need to plan better for that ourselves.
An excellent article as always Dennis. I’m glad you’re back contributing. As I have written before we are caring for my soon to be 103 yo mother in law (she was a Christmas baby). I just read your last paragraph to my wife for her to consider.
Dennis, in my work, I’ve observed many family situations with patients who are nearing or who have reached the end of their independence. Some are near death. From your account, you’re a good son.
I experienced something similar with my father, but I knew that when the supportive medications were withheld that he would soon die. It was hard, because, though he had some dementia and relied on us to honor the decisions he had made years before, he was smiling and jovial to nearly the end.
I also love my wife’s fresh bread, and fresh cornbread. We make the cornbread in the same 9-inch cast-iron skillet that my grandmother used. It’s been making cornbread for nearly a century.
What is it about cast iron skillets and cornbread? My wife uses one to cook cornbread and it turns out great every time. It must be the way the heat is distributed.
Your article was thought provoking. Dennis-you might enjoy “Time of the Child” by Niall Williams. It’s a book about family, community, and the difficulties we have discussing hard things.