My mother died tonight around 11:40. My brother and sister and a close family friend were with her at the time. She was comfortable in bed at home.

As I knew this was coming, I should have written a proper tribute to her before now, but I have not. Now, I do not have the energy or the clarity of mind. Perhaps in the coming days, I will be able to give a proper reckoning of this woman who affected so many lives for the better. But not right now.

Now, I grieve. My mother is dead and my world will never look the same.

I can't cover everything that has happened since then. My mother is still at home, in a hospital bed with 24/7 home health workers helping out. She is heavily sedated on morphine, Fentanyl, and lorazepam. She has been catheterized. She is not eating. She is barely drinking. Her blood pressure is lower each day and her heart rate is higher. The nurse can no longer find a pulse in her extremities. (more…)

She spent the night in a hotel, rather than the townhouse where everyone else was staying, because she cannot manage stairs. In fact, she cannot manage walking. A lot of fluid is being retained in her legs and she cannot walk at this point. She is also currently incontinent. Combined with the inability to get to the bathroom herself, this is not good.

Their flight left London this morning at 10:55 this morning, London time and arrived in Boston at 1:14. The last I heard, both a handicap-accessible cab and the van were waiting for my family to clear customs.

I do not know what will happen when she gets home. My elder sister, whose room is on the first floor of my parents' house, cleaned out her room of basically everything she owns. It all went into boxes so that my mother would have a place to be. I suspect she will want to be in her own bed upstairs, no matter what is involved in that. As I said above, I also suspect she will be headed back to the hospital tomorrow.

A big part of me hopes she comes home, goes to sleep with her husband of 54 years in her own bed in her own home, and doesn't wake up. And I feel horrible thinking that, because it means I am hoping my mother dies, but I do not believe this is how she would want to live.

I am trying to decide whether to go up to Massachusetts to see her. When I left her 18 days ago, I hugged her good-bye on her porch, surrounded by her plants. I started to tear up and she told said "hey, no tears." So I told her I loved her and said good-bye. As last good-byes go, that would be a pretty good one to stand on.

The word from the CT is that my mother's cancer has spread to her kidneys and liver. It may have spread elsewhere and this may be a large part of the problem she is having with her lower GI tract. Basically, her digestive system may be shutting down. What they do next will depend on the results of the colonoscopy.

I just want her to make it home to Southborough to see her garden.