As Mother’s Day approaches, I find myself somewhat lost as I try to navigate the future without my parents. I was blessed to have them with me into their late 80s, but now that they are gone, so are most of the family traditions that we shared with them. When my mother took her last breath last fall, I instantly became both an adult orphan and the matriarch of our family. I was prepared for neither.

While my dad was in the hospital recovering from a back injury, family members would take turns spending the night with my mom, who was suffering from dementia. Together, my parents had been able to remain in their home despite their failing health with the help of a caregiver and daily visits from my brother and me. Between my dad’s recurring falls and subsequent injuries and my mother’s short-term memory loss, confusion and agitation, their ability to live independently was coming to an end.

During one of those overnight stays with my mom, I was asleep on the couch when I was suddenly awakened by my mother’s voice.

“Mama?” she said, as she walked into the den.

“No, it’s me – Audrey,” I responded as my heart raced from being startled.

“Where’s mama?” she asked.

 Conversations about friends and relatives who had passed away were frequent by that point. Eventually, you learn that the kindest thing you can do for someone with her type of dementia is to try to reassure them that everyone is OK. As a result, you end up with one foot in reality and one foot in an imaginary world. Correcting the reality of someone with dementia eventually becomes pointless and can often trigger arguments, sadness, anxiety and/or aggressive behavior. You learn to choose your battles.

“Well, are you going to sleep all day?” she asked as I tried to wake up.

“It’s 3 o’clock in the morning,” I said, encouraging her to go back to bed. Instead, she decided it was time for a snack – one for her and one for the dog. I passed on the snack, and she eventually returned to bed.

My dad passed away in October 2023 after another fall resulted in a broken hip and further decline. My mother passed away less than a year later following a broken hip. Although we would do it again for our parents, those were the most stressful, difficult and overwhelming years that my brother and I have experienced.

This May, as I look forward to celebrating Mother’s Day with my own family, I will miss sharing the day with my mother, but I am thankful that she is no longer suffering from such a devastating disease.

The butterfly that was placed on her door near the end of her time at the hospice house symbolized her transformation, new life and hope. It will always remind me that she has been set free from this life and is now in heaven surrounded by all the loved ones she longed to see – including her mama.

“We’ll treasure the moments, the laughter, the tears,
a kaleidoscope of memories, transcending the years,
a butterfly’s dance, a symbol of love,
now you fly free, in heavens above.”
–The Butterfly’s Embrace by Pavel Friedmann.