The first comes from "crazy momcat" who wrote an amazing post about lying as an addiction. I
I never thought about the lies and lying as an addiction but I have one of these people in my life too.
http://crazymomcat.blogspot.com/2006/03/her-drug-of-choice.html Read it all. I never knew or read about anyone in this situation and never knew anyone else went through the same crap that I went through. I felt almost liberated, it was weird.
I cried when I read "soul gardener's" post about her mom and the anniversary of her death. Especially the part about her being there, holding her mom's hand when she died. And also about being with the person who gave you life as they passed out of this world.
I too, was sitting next to my own mom when she took her last breath. She was at home, Hospice had provided a hospital bed so she could be comfortable at home for her last days. The Hospice ladies had come over to give her a sponge bath. Dad and (mom's sister) Sue were outside talking. My brother was sleeping in the bedroom. I didn't realize when it happened at first, but when they unhooked her oxygen and sat her up to undress her, they both stopped. One of the women grabbed her cell phone and went outside. But, when I looked at mom, I knew. I asked the other woman who had stayed in the room if she had stopped breathing. She didn't say anything, just covered her mouth and nodded. Time froze for a moment as I went to her side, to touch my cheek to hers. When I looked up I saw Dad and Sue standing outside in the driveway.
As I watched them from the window all I could think was that I knew and they didn't. How strange, I thought, they were having a conversation, not knowing. It was like a spell that had to be broken. It was like she picked that very moment. She wanted me to be the one to tell them what she couldn't. I think because I was the first to "get it" that she was dying and that she had accepted it. My dad couldn't (and who could blame him) accept it and kept trying to make her better. This was the toughest thing for her was to see him struggle like that. My brother too, just refused on so many levels to let her go. I don't fault him, we are all so different. In a lot of ways he was closer to her than I was, especially as adults. My thought process was to just get through it and go off somewhere by myself later on down the road and have a melt-down. They probably think I was very cold-hearted through the whole thing, but I watched her watching them and saw so much pain in her eyes for the pain she saw in theirs and I just felt compelled to do something. I urged them to say goodbye, to let her go. Sitting with her, holding her hand was in so many ways "easier" than talking to my father and brother. My aunt was amazing. She had gone through a lot with close family members being ill and dying and made me cry when she asked me how many more times was she going to have to go through this? She was a rock and probably helped my dad more than I could.
I didn't mean to go on so much, I guess just reading that post brought a lot of that back up to the surface.