Beautifully written as ever Liz, and heart wrenchingly well observed. As a person who on Thursday was faced with the unavoidable incarceration of my beloved 92 year old Papa in a nursing home, watching him leave the home he provided for us for the very last time, I was able to relate to your missive more that I might have done a week ago! Sending love x
oh that's so hard. Nothing easy about any of this but the pathway can be very varied - really hope the home is a good one and the people caring for your dad are as amazing as the ones currently looking after my mum. xx
My brother died from cancer during lock down, it took about two years for him to die and I never got to be with him at his end - sending you love when I read your words ...all the emotions, all the thoughts, the sadness, the relief and the loss. xxxx
I am so sorry for this loss - so big, and incredibly sad you couldn't be with him. The more I write about it the more I feel the catharsis of words, for me, for others, on all subjects but this one in particular. Love to you. x
❤️ Grief has a particular taste for me, very weird. My dad died 20 years ago again with terminal cancer and then when my brother died a few years ago it was a very different type of grief - we were very close. Then last year my bloody dog got cancer and I had to put him down - he had a very peaceful death, falling into a drug induced forever nap while being fed liver paté. The taste has come back with every loss. Grief is a very powerful entity and you can't get rid of it - you need to process it - it's part of life. xx
Wonders pour out if your pen. Thanks Lizzie for your warmth and knowledge and kindness, thankyou for another wise, witty and slightly daft blog. I mean only a tiny tiny bit daft. So you won't be offended.
I flew back to the UK from a life elsewhere to look after my Mum when I found out her lung Cancer had returned & metastasised. A hard 18 months of seeing her slowly deteriorate, and yet her be in total denial ! That I found very difficult. But right at the very end ( she luckily died at home in her own bed ) the last hour, I couldn’t be with her, I had to go and sit in the garden. In retrospect I wish I’d stayed to the very end. I wish I’d been there for her last breath. I don’t know that it would have made any difference to anyone but me, but I regret not doing that. Of course there’s no right or wrong way to do it, and we have no way of really knowing how we will feel about the actions we chose to take, but I just thought I’d tell you, I’m not even sure why, other than we don’t talk about these things enough. I hope your Mum gets to go home. X
And yes, you are absolutely right that we don’t talk about death and how to manage ourselves around it nearly enough. Maybe we have started to change that.
Thank you for telling me that. I am so sorry you feel regret for not being there when your mum died but I hope you learn to let it go one day. You were there for her when it really mattered - that’s proper love.
I believe I have let it go, for the most part anyway. Going forward though I think if we are more honest, with ourselves, and our loved ones, and more open about life and how we deal with it and feel about it, then that can mostly be a positive thing. I’m trying to do that for my daughter, tell her about what I chose to do, and not do, and why. And how it turned out. Hopefully that may help her in her own life decision making. I think losing our parents, at any age, is a much bigger life transition than we possibly think it’s going to be. One of my major feelings, which took me quite by surprise, was feeling like an orphan.
You’re fortunate to have what sounds like quite a few living, supportive siblings.
Thinking of you ( even though we don’t know each other ! ) at this emotional rollercoaster time.
Listening to you and reading your amazing descriptions LIZZY on saying goodbye to your mum-...i can feel and hear that ache and anxiety for you. I send you more strength and stamina to carry on and through.....💕💕💕💕💕💕
Beautifully written as ever Liz, and heart wrenchingly well observed. As a person who on Thursday was faced with the unavoidable incarceration of my beloved 92 year old Papa in a nursing home, watching him leave the home he provided for us for the very last time, I was able to relate to your missive more that I might have done a week ago! Sending love x
oh that's so hard. Nothing easy about any of this but the pathway can be very varied - really hope the home is a good one and the people caring for your dad are as amazing as the ones currently looking after my mum. xx
My brother died from cancer during lock down, it took about two years for him to die and I never got to be with him at his end - sending you love when I read your words ...all the emotions, all the thoughts, the sadness, the relief and the loss. xxxx
I am so sorry for this loss - so big, and incredibly sad you couldn't be with him. The more I write about it the more I feel the catharsis of words, for me, for others, on all subjects but this one in particular. Love to you. x
❤️ Grief has a particular taste for me, very weird. My dad died 20 years ago again with terminal cancer and then when my brother died a few years ago it was a very different type of grief - we were very close. Then last year my bloody dog got cancer and I had to put him down - he had a very peaceful death, falling into a drug induced forever nap while being fed liver paté. The taste has come back with every loss. Grief is a very powerful entity and you can't get rid of it - you need to process it - it's part of life. xx
So beautiful, so moving and so completely relatable. You write for all our hearts and the deep aches we carry. Thank you, Liz.
If I even come close to writing for all then I am very proud. Thank you Heidi. xx
Wonders pour out if your pen. Thanks Lizzie for your warmth and knowledge and kindness, thankyou for another wise, witty and slightly daft blog. I mean only a tiny tiny bit daft. So you won't be offended.
I’m quite hard to offend. The words just come, I just get to edit them a bit! X
♥️ is all xxx
Back at ya. 💙
I flew back to the UK from a life elsewhere to look after my Mum when I found out her lung Cancer had returned & metastasised. A hard 18 months of seeing her slowly deteriorate, and yet her be in total denial ! That I found very difficult. But right at the very end ( she luckily died at home in her own bed ) the last hour, I couldn’t be with her, I had to go and sit in the garden. In retrospect I wish I’d stayed to the very end. I wish I’d been there for her last breath. I don’t know that it would have made any difference to anyone but me, but I regret not doing that. Of course there’s no right or wrong way to do it, and we have no way of really knowing how we will feel about the actions we chose to take, but I just thought I’d tell you, I’m not even sure why, other than we don’t talk about these things enough. I hope your Mum gets to go home. X
And yes, you are absolutely right that we don’t talk about death and how to manage ourselves around it nearly enough. Maybe we have started to change that.
Thank you for telling me that. I am so sorry you feel regret for not being there when your mum died but I hope you learn to let it go one day. You were there for her when it really mattered - that’s proper love.
I believe I have let it go, for the most part anyway. Going forward though I think if we are more honest, with ourselves, and our loved ones, and more open about life and how we deal with it and feel about it, then that can mostly be a positive thing. I’m trying to do that for my daughter, tell her about what I chose to do, and not do, and why. And how it turned out. Hopefully that may help her in her own life decision making. I think losing our parents, at any age, is a much bigger life transition than we possibly think it’s going to be. One of my major feelings, which took me quite by surprise, was feeling like an orphan.
You’re fortunate to have what sounds like quite a few living, supportive siblings.
Thinking of you ( even though we don’t know each other ! ) at this emotional rollercoaster time.
Listening to you and reading your amazing descriptions LIZZY on saying goodbye to your mum-...i can feel and hear that ache and anxiety for you. I send you more strength and stamina to carry on and through.....💕💕💕💕💕💕
Thank you Rori - I will gladly take more strength and stamina. Love to you. 💙