Caring for Mom in a World without Dad

On their wedding day, Mom and Dad, like most young couples at the altar, made promises to each other. They committed to being faithful; to love each other “in sickness and in health…’til death us do part.”

They kept those promises for 64 years.

When Mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s over five years ago, Dad stepped in, upholding that “in sickness and in health” part of their wedding vows.

It wasn’t easy for him. Prior to this, the only thing I recall Dad cooking in the kitchen was eggs and bacon. Still, at the age of 80, he learned to cook and bake. He took over the canning and some of the cleaning, all while keeping an eye on Mom.

He was there as her memory slipped, repeating the answers to her questions over and over. And over again. He pushed her to get out of bed in the morning (not an easy task, as my mother seemed to have regressed to her teenage years!) and he encouraged her to eat when her appetite waned.

Although my siblings and I tried to help out, we wanted time to just be and visit with our parents, rather than spend all of our time with them cooking and cleaning. And so we helped them find assistance through a home healthcare agency. We made other changes and accommodations as well so that Mom and Dad could remain at home.

Little did I know when I wrote about keeping my parents “Safe@Home” back in May, that my Dad was only five weeks away from a fall and subsequent brain bleed that would snuff out his life in a matter of hours. The “‘til death us do part” portion of their vows suddenly and unexpectedly came to pass.

As Dad lay unresponsive on his deathbed, I spoke to him over the miles through video chat. I have no idea if he could hear me, but since I’ve been told “the hearing is the last thing to go,” I’m holding onto hope that he did.

“Hey Dad. It’s me, Linda. I want you to know I love you.” I paused to swallow the huge lump in my throat.

“We’re gonna’ miss you, Dad, but don’t you worry about us. We’ll be okay. And we’re gonna’ take good care of Mom too.” I choked back the tears again. “So you can go now if you need to.” I had assured him Mom was in good hands and I intended to keep my word.

The next morning, as I was watching an amazing sunrise, a mama duck passed by with her five ducklings. I felt as if God was reminding me of the words I uttered to Dad the night before and the task ahead of me and my four siblings. We needed to be there for Mom.

Again at his funeral, I made that promise one more time as I read my tribute to Dad. “And in [Dad’s] honor, we’ll promise to carry on the legacy of love and faith that he began. We’ll care for mom and we’ll tend his garden. ”

Since the day of the funeral, my three sisters, my brother and I (and our spouses) have been focused on doing just that: caring for Mom.

We sisters have taken turns staying with Mom, cooking her meals, keeping house, and answering her repeated questions. During her good moments she knows Dad is gone, but wants us to remind her of the details. “How did he die? Did he fall?” and “When did this happen?” I get out the calendar and show her the day that is circled and marked with: Dad went to heaven, and then a week later: Dad’s Funeral. Thankfully, despite her short term memory loss, it seems that with enough repetition she is beginning to learn this new information.

Still, during the night when the sleepiness and confusion set in, she forgets. Sometimes she wakes up two or three times and asks “Where’s Dad? Have we heard anything yet?” She appears to be reliving that fateful day, awaiting word from the hospital. It’s tiring to repeat the answers to her. It’s also sad and heartbreaking.

But this is our Mom. She’s the one who got up multiple times during the night to feed us when we were babies. The one who calmed our fears when we had nightmares as kids and soothed our sunburns with aloe during our teen years. Mom was there for us.

Now we are there for her. We gently break the news to her yet again, walk her back to bed, and kiss her on the forehead as we tell her, “Now go back to sleep. We’re here for you now.”

Just as we promised Dad we would be.

Although we feel extremely protective of her, we know we can’t continue to be there 24/7 while carrying on with our own lives, jobs and family responsibilities. None of us are in a situation that allows our being there long-term.

There is a very reputable assisted living/nursing home option in Mom’s small hometown. But after some discussion, we agreed this was not the time to move Mom there. We realize a significant change in her surroundings could bring on even more confusion and stress on top of what she’s already experiencing with the loss of Dad. And the uncertainty of virus exposure, limited social interaction, and visiting restrictions due to COVID-19 reinforced the decision that now is not the time.

So the search for a 24-hour live-in caregiver began. We didn’t even know such services existed until three weeks ago. Turns out there are women, many women, mostly from other parts of the world, who want to care for the elderly here in our country. They are willing to move in and stay with Mom around the clock, with only a few days off per month. We’ve talked to women from South Africa, Ghana, the Philippines, and Mongolia. Each one has exhibited the positive, loving qualities we are looking for, as well as other qualifications that have impressed us. Every one we’ve talked to so far has been a Christian as well, which is important to Mom and us, and would have mattered to Dad as well.

We hope that whomever we hire will be more than a caregiver. We envision a time when Mom will think of them as a friend, and that eventually, they will feel like part of the family. But I’m getting ahead of myself. We first need to find that right person.

We have prayed and found candidates. We have interviewed and prayed some more. We are on the brink of hiring someone. We are still praying.

I’m confident that God will answer our prayers. He has the ideal person in mind and when the time is right, everything will fall into place. He will enable us to keep our promises, because His love for Mom is far greater than ours or Dad’s. He’s got her in His hands.

And if Dad’s looking down on us from heaven (as I like to picture him doing), I imagine he is pleased to know we’re keeping our promise.

We’re carrying on his legacy of love and faith. We’re tending his garden. And with God’s help, we’re caring for Mom.