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First, let me extend my sympathy to you for the loss of your mom.
I was in a similar situation with my mom, very similar from the way you describe yours. My mom moved into our house after she retired. I own a 2-family home, and she moved into our apartment. She was healthy and active, kept up her apartment, didn't interfere with me and my family - really about as ideal a multi-generational living situation as you could have hoped for. She really didn't need much hands-on caregiving until about the last year of her life. She died 3 years ago from complications due to congestive heart failure. And she died at home, under the care of home hospice.
So, I can understand exactly what you mean when you describe feeling her presence all of the time in your house!
The biggest change I made right away was I got rid of her mattress and bedding immediately. I couldn't keep the bed she died in, it honestly freaked me out a little, as ridiculous as that might sound. But I didn't make any other really radical changes to "her" space, and now that the initial storm of severe grief has burnt itself out, I actually find the space comforting.
The one piece of advice I have to offer is this - when you say you feel her presence, talk to her as if she was still in the room! I can't tell you how many times after she was gone, when I went upstairs, I would throw out a comment like "hey, mom, I just need to use your bathroom" or "hi, mom, I'm just going to toss this into your fridge" as if she was still sitting up there reading or watching TV. I found it helped me very much.
In this case, time is your greatest friend. As time goes on, the disturbing images of her death will fade into the background of your memory, and the good memories will come to the fore. That is not to say you won't have your moments where they invade your thoughts, but those moments will come fewer and further between, and will be less vivid in your recollections of them.
(((hugs))) and peace.
I truly resonated with your posting. My mom moved into our home before life became difficult for her.
In her later years I was absolutely terrified of finding her dead in her bed or chair.
I know that some people aren’t uncomfortable with having someone die in their homes but I was. I know that I would be seeing my mother all over the place too.
My mother died in an end of life hospice house at age 95. There are times when I can visualize her in our home because she lived with us for many years.
It takes time to process our emotions. Wishing you peace as you continue to grieve the loss of your mom.
I think that you should be grateful for the way she died, even if it was a shock to you. Suddenly in our sleep is the way that most of us would like to go. She won the lottery! And for you, you did not live through the long decline of body and mind that changes so many mothers into a person we didn’t want to know. Keep your wonderful memories!
For yourself, I’d suggest that you get a job that takes you out of the house and gives different pictures for your mind. It doesn’t matter if it’s paid work or volunteering. Find something that brings you into contact with other people (or animals), and makes you see other places all the time. When your husband goes to work, so should you.
Your mother loved you, and she would not want you to feel shattered or to be lonely. For your mother’s sake (and for the sake of you, your husband and your marriage), make a new interesting life for yourself. Please.
Although it will take time perhaps in the future you will see the images of your mother doing what she enjoyed and living a productive life in your home where you provided a welcome enviroment which was made available due to both your relationship and her physical health.
I hope time brings you relief.
In this groundbreaking and “poignant” (Los Angeles Times) book, David Kessler — praised for his work by Maria Shriver, Marianne Williamson, and Mother Teresa — journeys beyond the classic five stages to discover a sixth stage: meaning.
In 1969, Elisabeth Kübler-Ross first identified the stages of dying in her transformative book On Death and Dying. Decades later, she and David Kessler wrote the classic On Grief and Grieving, introducing the stages of grief with the same transformative pragmatism and compassion. Now, based on hard-earned personal experiences, as well as knowledge and wisdom gained through decades of work with the grieving, Kessler introduces a critical sixth stage: meaning.
Kessler’s insight is both professional and intensely personal. His journey with grief began when, as a child, he witnessed a mass shooting at the same time his mother was dying. For most of his life, Kessler taught physicians, nurses, counselors, police, and first responders about end of life, trauma, and grief, as well as leading talks and retreats for those experiencing grief. Despite his knowledge, his life was upended by the sudden death of his 21-year-old son.
How does the grief expert handle such a tragic loss? He knew he had to find a way through this unexpected, devastating loss, a way that would honor his son. That, ultimately, was the sixth stage of grief - meaning. In Finding Meaning, Kessler shares the insights, collective wisdom, and powerful tools that will help those experiencing loss.
“Beautiful, tender, and wise” (Katy Butler, author of The Art of Dying Well), Finding Meaning is “an excellent addition to grief literature that helps pave the way for steps toward healing” (School Library Journal).
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To stay in your home after the grief is a bit less raw, I suggest you do a bit of renovating. Your mom's bedroom, for instance, and the areas that invoke her memory the most. Make them new and fresh so when you see them, you won't feel heartache but renewal instead. The renovations need not be expensive or involve chopping down walls.....just make the areas different in appearance.
And place a memorial bench in your garden where you can sit and remember your mom and all the hours you spent together out there. Look for signs that she's still with you, sitting next to you on that bench, when butterflies and robins come by! Give yourself time and grace to grieve this tremendous loss, most of all.
My condolences.
My beloved second husband died here in 2001 from Stage 4 cancer, when he was diagnosed with a year to live. It took time to get past the emotional upheaval and find comfort in him being here and the happy years we shared. I'd find his notes he wrote in the garage, gathered all the love letters he wrote me. His presence was strong here for years. It made me feel safe here when I was alone.
It took time and strength to find comfort in the amazing memories. Now you are raw and devastated. After I lost him, I lost my job 3 months later, my 2 sisters and brother ditched me for no good reason, it was brutal. It was so hard to get past the emotional devastation, loss of income, family betrayal...especially the loss of someone I loved so much, and was the greatest man I ever knew.
You are totally right, your Mom made it 88 years, and her last years were happy and enjoyed with you. Keep telling yourself that when you are sad, try hard to remember the happiness you shared. It's not easy, but you know your Mom would want you to survive what happened. It was out of your control, just like cancer was out of my control.
I was so lonely and hopeless, I somehow ended up taking care of a knucklehead dog a friend had to give up, never having a dog in my life. That dog was the best company I could ever have to get through the heartache.
It just took time to adjust and cherish the good memories. I won't lie, it was hard as hell to do it. But love will triumph....it always does.