You can't necessarily be there. My cousin did a round the clock vigil at her mother's bedside while she was dying of cancer. The moment when my cousin went the bathroom is when her mom expired.

Be there for people when they're alive. We do the best we can when we're dying. Do the best you can and forgive yourself.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:Wow, OP, your post kind of freaked me out; I'm wrestling with something similar, albeit with my dad on a much abbreviated timeline (like the next 36 hours.)

I'd say the following, obviously from a biased position: you cannot spend every waking moment with your parent no matter how imminent their death - I mean, you could, but it wouldn't be practical if you have kids, a husband, and a job, and I am not entirely sure it would be the most psychologically beneficial way to handle this (speaking from watching a sibling who has subsumed his entire life to our now dying father.)

You can make their life, and their comfort in these final days, a very high priority. Pick some kind of frequency to see your mom - plan special things, depending on her physical and mental state. Bring her to your kids' events, so that they can cherish that memory of grandma at school or the soccer game. Build in time just to be with her, without festivities or responsibilities etc. I lost my mom after a long illness; I wish I could go back and find more time with her. But I also know that the stuff I remember most now were just the ordinary times we had together. You can't quantify that.

Are you not going to spend your father's last hours with him?

It isn't always clear when those last hours are going to be.

If I was told my dad had 36 hours to live, I'd be there for every last second of those 36 hours. Even if it stretched out to a week, I wouldn't leave his side. My dad is my world and it would be the least I could do to be there for him.

I'm PP who asked if you were going to (not) be there. I had the same sort of notice for my father, who lived in a different state. I was notified Wednesday morning, I got there that evening (picked up my aunt, his sister on the way), they spent Thursday together (he in a very drowsy but communicative state, while I was running around to lawyers/ banks/ etc) and morphine started Thursday night. He passed Friday early afternoon. I saw him when he was still able to talk to me, and was with him when he passed. That is invaluable to me, to know that we said to each other the things we had to say while we could each say them, and he knew I would be there for the remaining hours.

Every story is personal, no judgement, but I'm telling you my experience.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:Wow, OP, your post kind of freaked me out; I'm wrestling with something similar, albeit with my dad on a much abbreviated timeline (like the next 36 hours.)

I'd say the following, obviously from a biased position: you cannot spend every waking moment with your parent no matter how imminent their death - I mean, you could, but it wouldn't be practical if you have kids, a husband, and a job, and I am not entirely sure it would be the most psychologically beneficial way to handle this (speaking from watching a sibling who has subsumed his entire life to our now dying father.)

You can make their life, and their comfort in these final days, a very high priority. Pick some kind of frequency to see your mom - plan special things, depending on her physical and mental state. Bring her to your kids' events, so that they can cherish that memory of grandma at school or the soccer game. Build in time just to be with her, without festivities or responsibilities etc. I lost my mom after a long illness; I wish I could go back and find more time with her. But I also know that the stuff I remember most now were just the ordinary times we had together. You can't quantify that.

Are you not going to spend your father's last hours with him?

It isn't always clear when those last hours are going to be.

If I was told my dad had 36 hours to live, I'd be there for every last second of those 36 hours. Even if it stretched out to a week, I wouldn't leave his side. My dad is my world and it would be the least I could do to be there for him.

NP. I'm sure you realize that every parent/child relationship is different and every situation is unique. The tone of your words doesn't seem to be offering this pp who is losing her parent helpful, kind advice but instead a dose of judgment.

Sorry for the hijack OP, but since someone asked (and judged), here is how it is: I flew to be with my dad as soon as his condition deteriorated last week. I said goodbyes and cried so much I got sick. I came back to my own family for Christmas and expected we would all fly back this week for his funeral. To everyone's surprise, his final moments are lasting longer than expected but since he has been without nutrition or hydration for a week now, it is imminent. Should I jump on a plane right now for another goodbye? I don't know. If I did, it would be for me, not for him - he is comatose and since he has advanced Alzheimers, he hasn't recognized me in at least a year. My siblings are with him. And there's a blizzard predicted to hit his area tomorrow.

I'm not fully at peace with my decision not to go back right now. At the same time, I think my sibling who has refused to leave his side needs some counseling. My dad was the very best of parents (and husbands.) I love and respect him. I don't think I need to be in the room when he dies to prove that. He is in his mid80s, suffering from a horrific disease. He will be in a better place very soon, and he has the best of care.

I guess this all just underlines my basic point: what matters is that you are with the ones you loved when they are alive. And it's not about scoring points. I wasn't with my mother when she died. But outside my father, there is not a person on this earth who loved her more and was closer to her than I was. She knew that, and I know that.

First, I'm so sorry about your mom. My mom recently passed from cancer. I'm deeply depressed, but the one thing that brings me comfort is knowing I was able to be with her. She spent several weeks in hospice care at home. I lived close by so I spent every day with her. My dad was relieved to have the help as he's elderly and my mom repeatedly told me my presence was comforting. It was hard on DH and our kids and stressful and exhausting for me, but I was grateful to have the opportunity. If at all possible, go be with your mom. You will never regret the decision. But if you really can't do it financially, visit as much as you can, and make sure to call every single day. You can FaceTime. My mom enjoyed her calls and visitors until the last 24 hrs.

I hope your mom is comfortable and she is able to go in peace.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:Wow, OP, your post kind of freaked me out; I'm wrestling with something similar, albeit with my dad on a much abbreviated timeline (like the next 36 hours.)

I'd say the following, obviously from a biased position: you cannot spend every waking moment with your parent no matter how imminent their death - I mean, you could, but it wouldn't be practical if you have kids, a husband, and a job, and I am not entirely sure it would be the most psychologically beneficial way to handle this (speaking from watching a sibling who has subsumed his entire life to our now dying father.)

You can make their life, and their comfort in these final days, a very high priority. Pick some kind of frequency to see your mom - plan special things, depending on her physical and mental state. Bring her to your kids' events, so that they can cherish that memory of grandma at school or the soccer game. Build in time just to be with her, without festivities or responsibilities etc. I lost my mom after a long illness; I wish I could go back and find more time with her. But I also know that the stuff I remember most now were just the ordinary times we had together. You can't quantify that.

Are you not going to spend your father's last hours with him?

It isn't always clear when those last hours are going to be.

If I was told my dad had 36 hours to live, I'd be there for every last second of those 36 hours. Even if it stretched out to a week, I wouldn't leave his side. My dad is my world and it would be the least I could do to be there for him.

NP. I'm sure you realize that every parent/child relationship is different and every situation is unique. The tone of your words doesn't seem to be offering this pp who is losing her parent helpful, kind advice but instead a dose of judgment.

If I had to choose between spending some nice quality time with my parent, going to a doctors appt or being there for their last breath....I would choose, hands down, to spend some nice quality time with them while they were alive...even if that was just a phone call or back/forth email.

If you can be there for all of it that is good. But if you have to choose I would pick visiting them while they could enjoy our time together as much as possible.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:Wow, OP, your post kind of freaked me out; I'm wrestling with something similar, albeit with my dad on a much abbreviated timeline (like the next 36 hours.)

I'd say the following, obviously from a biased position: you cannot spend every waking moment with your parent no matter how imminent their death - I mean, you could, but it wouldn't be practical if you have kids, a husband, and a job, and I am not entirely sure it would be the most psychologically beneficial way to handle this (speaking from watching a sibling who has subsumed his entire life to our now dying father.)

You can make their life, and their comfort in these final days, a very high priority. Pick some kind of frequency to see your mom - plan special things, depending on her physical and mental state. Bring her to your kids' events, so that they can cherish that memory of grandma at school or the soccer game. Build in time just to be with her, without festivities or responsibilities etc. I lost my mom after a long illness; I wish I could go back and find more time with her. But I also know that the stuff I remember most now were just the ordinary times we had together. You can't quantify that.

Are you not going to spend your father's last hours with him?

It isn't always clear when those last hours are going to be.

If I was told my dad had 36 hours to live, I'd be there for every last second of those 36 hours. Even if it stretched out to a week, I wouldn't leave his side. My dad is my world and it would be the least I could do to be there for him.

OP, I'm very sorry for what you're going through. My FIL passed away earlier this year. He was diagnosed with cancer last year and given six months to a year, and he went within that window. We live a six hour drive away or a one hour flight, and our kids were 1 and 3. Both DH and I worked full time at demanding jobs with a fair amt of travel (1-3 trips per month between the two of us). In a nutshell, DH did the best he could to be there and I did the best I could to be supportive. He flew up about once a month alone, plus any time his mom said it was urgent, he was there at the drop of a hat. The whole family flew up every 2 or 3 months, and we made one driving trip. We spent thousands on plane tickets. My oldest cried over missing daddy. We kept up our jobs. In other words, we did what we could.

The day before he passed, we already had plane tickets for the whole family to come up. My MIL called that morning asking if we could get an earlier flight. We couldn't realistically, due to flight schedules and transit time to the airport, so we came when we could. He was in bad shape when we arrived, but he recognized us and we got in hugs and a chance to say goodbye. My DH was up all night with his mom helping and FIL died the next morning. It was incredibly sad and we came close to missing it. We were there by luck of the draw. I know DH had made peace with the possibility he would miss it beforehand, as we had talked about it. He did the best he could given his obligations to other aspects of his life. I know his father would have been proud.

Do the best you can. It is a hard time.

Well, one way is to be there. Do you want your kids there when the time comes? Then model it.

Sorry if that sounds harsh. I guess I was "lucky" that my single mom died before I got married, so I didn't have to choose between kids and mom. I did cut back to 3/4 time for two years and used all the leave I could, but I realize that might not be possible for someone with different responsibilities.

I never regretted it, though.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:Wow, OP, your post kind of freaked me out; I'm wrestling with something similar, albeit with my dad on a much abbreviated timeline (like the next 36 hours.)

I'd say the following, obviously from a biased position: you cannot spend every waking moment with your parent no matter how imminent their death - I mean, you could, but it wouldn't be practical if you have kids, a husband, and a job, and I am not entirely sure it would be the most psychologically beneficial way to handle this (speaking from watching a sibling who has subsumed his entire life to our now dying father.)

You can make their life, and their comfort in these final days, a very high priority. Pick some kind of frequency to see your mom - plan special things, depending on her physical and mental state. Bring her to your kids' events, so that they can cherish that memory of grandma at school or the soccer game. Build in time just to be with her, without festivities or responsibilities etc. I lost my mom after a long illness; I wish I could go back and find more time with her. But I also know that the stuff I remember most now were just the ordinary times we had together. You can't quantify that.

Are you not going to spend your father's last hours with him?

It isn't always clear when those last hours are going to be.

OP, I'm so sorry you're in this situation. I lost my mom 10 years ago when she was a 4-hour drive away. I went to be with her three long weekends over a two month period from beginning of illness to the end. Like your mom, she had her husband there with her and he was her primary caregiver. She also had hospice care. She did not want me to uproot my young children's lives and leave my husband for months, not knowing how long it would be. I cherished the time that I had with her and I did the very best I could do. It was such a difficult time in every way, and I felt so unsure of what was the right thing to do. You do what works for your family and know that your mom would not want you to feel guilty. Take care of yourself.

Anonymous wrote:Wow, OP, your post kind of freaked me out; I'm wrestling with something similar, albeit with my dad on a much abbreviated timeline (like the next 36 hours.)

I'd say the following, obviously from a biased position: you cannot spend every waking moment with your parent no matter how imminent their death - I mean, you could, but it wouldn't be practical if you have kids, a husband, and a job, and I am not entirely sure it would be the most psychologically beneficial way to handle this (speaking from watching a sibling who has subsumed his entire life to our now dying father.)

You can make their life, and their comfort in these final days, a very high priority. Pick some kind of frequency to see your mom - plan special things, depending on her physical and mental state. Bring her to your kids' events, so that they can cherish that memory of grandma at school or the soccer game. Build in time just to be with her, without festivities or responsibilities etc. I lost my mom after a long illness; I wish I could go back and find more time with her. But I also know that the stuff I remember most now were just the ordinary times we had together. You can't quantify that.

Are you not going to spend your father's last hours with him?

First, I am sorry you are dealing with this. Strong agreement with 22:11.
OP, I think some other posters are projecting their guilt on you. This is a terrible situation, but it is not feasible for your to give up your life and responsibilities and your nuclear family to run and spend all the time with your mom. That is just unrealistic, and does no one any good.
Here is my advice--
* Decide that you will do your best and that you will not beat yourself up over not doing more than what your best is.
* Talk with your spouse to determine what is possible. Mayb you can make a quick family trip all together, making sure to take lots of pictures etc. and then you can try to go every so often.
* Call your mother and people there frequently. Or text, or skype or facetime, or whatever. Bring your kids in, in age appropriate ways.
* Decide that you will do your best and that you will not beat yourself up over not doing more than what your best is.
* You need to just redefine your goal of being there all the time.
*You need, with your spouse, to prepare your kids in an age-appropriate way. The best and truest advice I got when my parent was dying (and I was the primary caretaker) was that parents shouldn't project their grief onto kids.
* Cede control to whomever the primary caretaker is. My family did this, and it was huge. It did not happen as smoothly the generation earlier.
* Decide that you will do your best and that you will not beat yourself up over not doing more than what your best is.
* Find an outlet for yourself during what is going to be a very sad and stressful time. Maybe it is exercise or music or something else. Hopefully it is not eating cookies or something...but if that is what you need to get through the day, then that is what you will do.
*(and for the 5th time) Decide that you will do your best and that you will not beat yourself up over not doing more than what your best is.

i'm so sorry you are dealing with this situation.

Wow, OP, your post kind of freaked me out; I'm wrestling with something similar, albeit with my dad on a much abbreviated timeline (like the next 36 hours.)

I'd say the following, obviously from a biased position: you cannot spend every waking moment with your parent no matter how imminent their death - I mean, you could, but it wouldn't be practical if you have kids, a husband, and a job, and I am not entirely sure it would be the most psychologically beneficial way to handle this (speaking from watching a sibling who has subsumed his entire life to our now dying father.)

You can make their life, and their comfort in these final days, a very high priority. Pick some kind of frequency to see your mom - plan special things, depending on her physical and mental state. Bring her to your kids' events, so that they can cherish that memory of grandma at school or the soccer game. Build in time just to be with her, without festivities or responsibilities etc. I lost my mom after a long illness; I wish I could go back and find more time with her. But I also know that the stuff I remember most now were just the ordinary times we had together. You can't quantify that.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:The rest of your life will always be there. Your mom won't. You have to decide what is more important to you and focus on that.

I'd personally take off work, take the kids, and head to mom's house. I'd spend every second of every day with her and I'd make sure my kids did too. DH can travel as he needs to so he can keep money coming in.

This.

What are the ages of your kids / their childcare setup? What is your job and is their any possibility for PT or remote? Or to 'flex' it so you're working just enough to keep balls rolling?

You will not regret making the space to spend as much of this time with your mother as you can. It is worth some level of financial setback. Let us help you figure out how to make it logistically work. Give us your details and let us figure out possible plans.

And I am so sorry for your impending loss.

I'm the PP and in re-reading this I realized the tone may come off wrong. Whatever you decide to do is the right thing for you. I only suggested letting us try to help you brainstorm ideas because I know your mind is full of your grief and taking in some of that mental processing is a way for us anonymous strangers to offer support. That is the one small piece of your burden we can help hold.