I’m so glad Mom saved this. It’s an article her sister, Bunny, wrote for Family Seasons, a supplement to the monthly newspaper (now magazine) provided to members of the Hartford archdiocese in Connecticut.

The November 1991 feature story was about Bunny’s experience with “anticipatory grief” as Grandma completed her last few years here on earth.

Letting Go

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my mother, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
– Adapted from a poem by Dylan Thomas

As I washed dishes and looked out the pantry window, I saw the leaves on the apple tree swishing back and forth. Hidden up in the branches sat a cat waiting hopefully to entrap a bird. This seemed like the only sign of active life I had seen around my mom’s house in months.

The house I grew up in and loved was now becoming a tomb (as my sister, Joan, said) for our mom. I had once thought how sad it would be to drive by the house one day and see strangers living there but now would welcome the sounds of a family again.

Mom is 86, a tiny brave lady who lives alone in this big house.

The family has been able to help keep her going there with extra care – laundry, cleaning, grocery shopping, etc. But mom is failing mentally (dementia) and physically. Her sister died recently and this has added to the decline. Mom sees imaginary people, known and unknown. The doctor said this is like a child that sees imaginary monsters and friends and it helps relieve loneliness.

We have tried suggesting many things to bring someone in the house to help with chores and for company when the family is not available. All of this has met with a firm “nothing doing.” Mom is calling all the shots because the more we do for her, the more entrenched she is becoming in the house and this is what she wants:

… to stay at home forever.

I live in a small house a few miles away, and when Mom stayed with us in the past, she had slept on the couch comfortably; but now she tries to come upstairs, and says she will sleep on our bedroom floor. My husband had to be firm but gentle with her and she was angry with both of us. She asked me to come back and live with her – something my mom would have never said to me if she was of sound mind.

One night I went over and she had the doors unlocked, the stove on, and she was lying on the floor. She was disoriented but okay after a while. My sister, brother and I knew something had to be done soon for her safety. She had said the only place she would ever go was with the “good sisters.”

We went for an interview at St. Mary’s Home in West Hartford and thought she could have a small apartment there with her meals. When we arrived for the appointment, she ran down the hall with my brother-in-law after her. The social worker felt Mom needed total care, and unfortunately, there wasn’t an opening.

Things seemed to worsen after that.

One day my sister and I had gone over to help give her a bath and the next day my brother stopped over and couldn’t get an answer. He and a neighbor broke into the house and mom was on the floor. From home she went to the hospital, and it was found she had a urinary infection and needed the professional help from a nursing home.

We were able to find a small and wonderful place with a caring staff. When we went for the interview, a beautiful old dog strolled in. The dog was later joined by two cats, and this trio provided steady company and love for the patients.

When I asked the director about medication she said, “We do not medicate the patients to keep them quiet to make it easier for us.” That made us feel secure in placing mom there.

It has not been easy for any of us, Mom especially. Mom is now in a wheelchair and walks only with help. She lives a great deal in the past and doesn’t always recognize us. She confuses us with relatives, dead and alive. Mom came from a large Irish family which was filled with love and that was a time when she was carefree and taken care of. The staff love her because she is feisty and kids them and in her way seems happy in her own world.

There is a saving humor in all situations.

The resident dog is overweight and supposedly on a diet, but some patients feed her (my mom’s roommate for one) as she makes her rounds. Mom has been banned from bingo because she talked all the time and drove the other ladies crazy. My cousin Mary would laugh because every once in a while Mom would give me that look – that look only a mother can – and you feel 10 years old again.

It is extremely difficult to have the role of child and parent reversed. To look in Mom’s eyes and see such a vacant stare at times. I want to take her by the shoulders and say, “Mom come out – come out wherever you are.” I want her back and I know it will never be. My sister said she would like to sit in a rocker and just hold Mom on her lap and rock and comfort her.

Sometimes she flashes such a sweet smile to us and wants to feed and care for us again. She always did this with great kindness and love. We have learned much about love from her and Dad. She never judged others just accepted, even if she didn’t agree or understand them.

As we are cleaning out her house room by room, the ghosts of many, many years come forth. Outside of her family home this was the only home Mom knew. Sometimes, I just sit and cry and remember. Holiday and family gatherings are difficult because Mom can no longer share in the joy and plans in the families. Mom and the grandchildren always had a special bond and they miss this closeness. At Christmas we went down with her gifts and we sang carols to her as she joined in and directed our little choir.

No, Mom will not go gentle into the good night.

Now I am glad she fought so hard and raged against it. She no longer has any decisions to make. They are all made for her. God took all of them out of her hands and ours. He works in His own way – sometimes it is slow and we want Him to go at our speed. Go Mom, with God to light your way into the gentle night, for your faith is strong.

On April 13, 1991, Mom went into a coma and died April 14. The Lord gave me the gift of being with her when she went so peacefully and gently to Him. One of the nurses said Mom was waiting for one of her own family to be with her before she died. We put a can of coke in the casket with her because this was her favorite drink and we put her blue sneaker slippers on her.

Her grandsons and my two daughters were pallbearers, and my daughter Beth sang at the funeral Mass. My other daughter Sue wrote a poem for her eulogy. Mom would have loved it. I want to thank: the wonderful compassionate staff at West Lake Lodge in Guilford for taking care of Mom (they were so sensitive those last few days to her family. We will never forget them. They loved and enjoyed Mom and will miss this little lady); Father Ed Nadolny of St. George’s Parish who came at a moment’s notice to pray for Mom and to support us; family, relatives and friends and this includes those at the Family Life Office who prayed and supported us in these difficult days.

From the last two lines of the eulogy:

“Smile when you think of me. I am with you always.”

~ feature story by Cecelia (Bunny) Cassidy O’Brien ~ November 1991

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