Taken from Instagram, 7/12
Having a nervous breakdown but staying hydrated. Cause I remember 7/13 well, voicemails still loading from my flight to San Francisco the night before. That was my notification: via voicemail.
I’d talked to my mom before I left; I knew she was tired of it all. She’d struggled with major depression all her life. Her death was complex for me, feeling partly like a slow suicide that happened over years; simultaneously a sudden decline that zapped her of any will to fight. She referred to her DNR repeatedly, and so did I, but even that became complicated—what procedure might be considered lifesaving, exactly?
My advocating for her right not to suffer on machines felt, on some level, that I supported her right to die. I did—I do. But had she not been depressed, I doubt she’d have had the same health spiral. Her death was fraught with a lot of shit, on personal and medical and social levels, and it circles my brain today like the canaries do when you’re bonked in a cartoon.
There is no peace—not a permanent one. An impossibility, with my DNA sequence spun out with the loss of her. Still, maybe tomorrow will be OK. I’ll try to go outside, move, get fresh air. All things I couldn’t convince my mom to do when she needed them most. What a life we share, walking with our ghosts. What a life.
#grief #motherloss #foralice🦋 #somedaysyouthrive #somedaysyousurvive