Death Is Not Sexy

The Super Bowl is sexy. Well, at least the Victoria’s Secret commercials and some of the halftime entertainment are, from what I’ve heard. I don’t watch it (sorry), so I don’t know. Death is not sexy.

I haven’t seen my mom in a couple weeks due to the death of my father-in-law and being sick myself, but I spoke to her last night at around 8 p.m. She was in a state.

I don’t like it when she’s in “a state.” Most of the time she seems fairly serene, even content and happy. On other occasions, she is lucid and questions her life and how she’s living.

“How are you?” I asked.

“Not well,” she said, a faint moan in her voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything. I can’t get anything done. What will become of me?”

“What happened, Mom?”

“I can’t get ready for bed. What kind of life is this? I’d rather be dead.”

“I’m sorry you’re upset, Mom.”

“What’s going to happen to me? I can’t do anything, can’t go anywhere.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

I had no words of wisdom to impart. I agreed with everything she said. What kind of life was this?

“What about the grahams?” she said.

“I’m bringing you the cookies this weekend.”

“Are you sure? Are you really coming?”

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

“It’s been such a long time.”

“Lorin’s father died, then I was very sick last weekend. I didn’t want to get you sick.”

“Oh, right. But you will come this weekend?” Pain in her voice.

“Yes, I promise. I’m sorry you feel so bad. Is there anything good on 13?”

“No, nothing but junk—ads.”

“Oh. There’s still snow on the ground. Isn’t it pretty?”

“Yes, I always like that.”

“It’s going to snow tonight into tomorrow morning, they said.”

“Oh, that’ll be good.”

She loved shoveling snow when we lived in Jackson Heights. I have a photo of her shoveling on the stoop, cheeks flushed and smiling.

“Okay, Mom. Try to get some sleep. I’ll see you in a couple days.”

“Okay, good night, dear.”

She still sounded awful. I didn’t provide any comfort and felt utterly helpless and sad.

She lives at The Actors Home in the Enhanced (Alzheimer’s) Unit, with fellow performing artists. It’s the best place she could possibly be. But I don’t like bearing witness to her pain and suffering.

Jeffory Morshead wrote a bestselling book called Alzheimer’s: The Long Goodbye (The Emotional Aspects of Caregiving). That is what it is: a long death, not a speedy, graceful one. There are different qualities of “good nights” and goodbyes. Last night was not a good one.

Momma glamour shot
Mom as a young actress (photo by Joe Ratke)

20 thoughts on “Death Is Not Sexy

  1. You and Lorin have been though the mire already…and it’s barely a month into 2015. My heart aches for you two and your mom. Seems like you’ve been saying goodbye to her for years now; and each visit, each phone call is one step closer to the final farewell. Alzheimer’s is such a cruel disease, one moment mom is lucid, and then she’s in another world. Like filaments of hope floating in the breeze, so fragile and yet very real-seemingly easy to grasp but not. It takes nerves of steel to carry on as you do…keep on keeping on. There is a light at the end of this journey…it’s not sexy, but there will be peace.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Your welcome….and there’s no selfishness in feeling that way. You’ve been your mom’s caregiving in one or another for years and years….I can’t even imagine the exhaustion and frustration you must feel. But as I said…you, my dear friend have a core of steel, and you will get through this, you will.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Your mother is beautiful. I witnessed my grandmother’s battle with Alzheimer’s disease and know it is so difficult on every one, perhaps even more so on the loved ones of those who are suffering. Prayers to you and your mother with many blessings.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Oh I feel for you and your mom. Don’t know what to say. Your writing is so expressive and true and the hurt just bleeds off the page. Why must life be so hard? But this was a bad day, and I know there will be better ones and even good ones. But this one was hard.

    Liked by 1 person

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