Letters to My Mother, Part 4: I Tried to Help
Saturday, December 27th, 2025: Letters to My Mother, Stories, Trouble.
Previous: Losing Your Struggle
More Than a Loss
When a loved one dies
Slowly, in front of us
It’s not a loss
Like losing our keys or wallet
It’s our flesh and blood
Dying in front of our eyes!
It’s a trauma we suffer through
Over a period of time
A weight that adds to our load
Works on us over time
I haven’t lost you
You’re always with me
In my heart
I’m not looking to find you
Like I would a lost wallet
Or a set of keys
So I don’t want to hear
I’m sorry for your loss
People used to say
At least now she’s at peace
But you never found peace
And now you’re dead
More Than a Parent
All of my artist friends had conflicted relationships with their parents
Resented, even hated one or both of them
Like me
All of them ended up living far away from their families
But unlike me
Few of them participated in their parents’ end of life care
Few of them were present during the death of either parent
You and I frustrated and angered each other at times
But we were more like siblings, even twins
Than mother and son
Raising me, you gave me many of my lifelong passions
Much of what makes me who I am
The joy of music, the arts, literature
The curiosity, wonder and delight in nature
From the beginning, you set an example
Of how to live
Eating healthy, staying fit
And after I moved away
And we pursed our separate lives
We wrote, called, visited often
Shared almost everything
The loves, the suffering
Triumphs, catastrophes
Knew each other’s friends, lovers
You followed my work
Remained a tough critic
Kept me honest
So it was easier, in the end
For me to see you as a person
Not just a parent
For years, I’d been living mainly for you
Choosing my hikes for you, taking pictures for you
Writing Dispatches for you
Now, I didn’t want to keep living
But others kept demanding work from me
Information, paperwork, signatures
I wondered, when the work is done
Who will I live for?
I’d had to give up all the routines that kept me healthy and fit
No longer knew who I was doing them for
I supposed at some point I would start doing creative work again
But couldn’t imagine starting
I’d always felt at home
In the vast, unpopulated desert basins of the Southwest
But now that I had no one to come back and share my journeys with
They just made me feel alone
The size of this world overwhelmed me
And in it there was no one who cared if I lived, died
Or disappeared forever
It was a ruthless world
No place for a man alone
Old and Unprepared
You wouldn’t talk about dying
Never made plans for your care
And when you needed it
I was old, declining myself
Before our ancestors left the farm
Before careers and cities
Where caring became a commodity
To buy and sell
Our elders aged at home with family
But we had long given up tradition
In favor of bureaucracy and the consumer markets
And when I needed to become a caregiver
Alone, with no partner, no sibling
No child to share the load
I had none of the skills
But one thing we’d never given up
Was the obligation, the duty to family
So it wasn’t just my love, our special relationship
That drove me to help
Because I also helped my brother, your injured younger son
Who had never been close
In fact, I’d always dreaded the day
Thought, I can’t do that, I’ll never do that
But when it came
I just dropped everything
And started helping
I’ve always been a seeker
Looking for experience, knowledge, and wisdom
In dark and dangerous places
And lo and behold, nearing the end of my own life
I discovered that helping others
Feeding them, changing their diapers, cleaning up
Is essential to being human
If only I’d learned that
Before I became too old and feeble
To do it well!
My Trials
Forced to Leave My Dying Mother’s Side
As you were dying
In that home where we had been made to feel unwelcome
There was a shift change
The hostile and indifferent aides arrived
I stayed out of their way
But they didn’t check you for sores
Treated you like an object
And when they turned you
They hurt your shoulder
You moaned
I mentioned your crippled shoulder
Asked them to be careful
Thanked them as they left
Shortly Ernestine, the manager who had blamed me for your illness
Tried for months to separate us
Called and told me I would have to leave
My presence was making her staff uncomfortable
She said,
If you wanted to be with her when she died
You should’ve kept her at home
And back at home
Less than an hour later
I got the call
You had lost your struggle
Without my hand
Without my voice
Alone at the end
I lost the only chance I would ever have
Your Suffering, My Helplessness & Guilt
I’m good at many things
Used to being able to solve problems
Your suffering broke my heart
So tiny, so afraid, so helpless
Desperate to help you, I could not
I hounded aides, nurses, doctors
In rare moments when I could reflect on your life
I felt I was punishing you
Torturing you instead of caring for you
By leaving you in their hands
To fall alone, injure yourself, cry for help
It will haunt me forever
That I couldn’t stay and care for you
But worse than any of this
Was watching you, hearing you, feeling you die
Unlike anyone I’d ever heard of
Crying for your parents, your grandfather
Drowning, struggling to the end
Your Neediness, Demands, Manipulation
Long-term, this was the hardest on me
More and more helpless, surrounded by strangers
Trusting only me, who could only make short visits
When I arrived, you overwhelmed me with demands
And when I needed to leave
You tried different ways to make me stay, and got better at it
I always ended up late, out of time
Unable to do things I needed to keep myself healthy and fit
I got angry, I scolded you and left abruptly
Left you with strangers you didn’t trust
Hating myself
Mistreatment by Paid Caregivers
At the homes I found for you
Management lied to us
Tried to manipulate us
Abused us verbally
Blamed me for causing your illness
I learned the names of the staff
Always arrived with a smile
Thanked them for their help
Asked about their health, their families
They kept trying to separate us
Prevent me from visiting you
Despite welcoming the families of others
You said, No one else can do things as well as you
That’s why they’re angry at you
How I Coped
Time Balance
During the past fifteen months
I went from spending up to ten hours every day
With you in hospitals
To visiting for only two hours, twice a week
I felt I should be with you all the time
But you were so needy, so demanding
I fell into depression after each visit
Took me a day to recover
And as your end drew near
I was burnt out, spending less time with you
Just when I should’ve spent more
Lifestyle
For decades, I’d developed a healthy, self-reliant lifestyle
But flying back and forth to care for you
I lost most of this
Eating at restaurants, sleeping erratically
But where and when I could, I tried
Joined a gym near your house
Bought ergonomic furniture
For your bedroom upstairs
That became my office and music studio
I’d injured my knee a few months before this started
My shoulder, with a rotator cuff tear
Was waking me up at night
Over the next year
Both injuries went untreated, got worse
I exercised when I could, but steadily
I lost weight – muscle mass – and strength
As I hiked less, my stress increased
And I lost cardio capacity
Helping you required constant heavy lifting
In awkward positions, hurting back and shoulder
Stress increased sensitivity to pain
Headaches several times a week
And as my pain increased
My intake of pain meds increased
Their effectiveness decreasing
But I couldn’t have done it without them
Creative Work
Before your demon came
Summer before last
Leading the ceremony for Katie
My long-lost partner that you loved
I rediscovered songwriting
After years of crises, traumas, interruptions
I always thought I needed an extended period
Without distractions, like weeks
But after I began caring for you
I found I could write, arrange, record tracks
In a half-day or evening, in between
Caring for my family
I brought my travel guitar to Indianapolis
Bought a mini-keyboard
It was slow getting started
But with practice, I found myself
Thinking about my work in a parallel track
Behind whatever I was doing in the foreground
That made it go faster
So far, in the past year
I’ve written more new songs
Than in any year since 1980
I rediscovered nearly 200 unused lyrics in my files
And have set many of those to music already
As I lost the ability to hike
That creative breakthrough is what kept me motivated
Became my reason to live
I brought my guitar on visits
Sang and played my new songs for you
You became my best audience
The Work Ahead
What you and I went through
Is precious
Needs to become part of my work, my art
This will take time
You haunt my house now
I have your things, the things you loved
That brought you comfort or surprise
They retain your spirit
All I want is to leave
I don’t know where I am
Or where I’m going
I want to fill my house with your things
I’ve started a shrine
But I can’t look at them, they make me cry
I assume that at some point
I will resume the routines that kept me healthy and fit before
But I can’t do that now
I have to understand what happened
You remain inside me
And all around me
You’ll always be the most important person in my life
I’m not trying to move on
Not trying to forget or get past what happened
Hospice, and a local acquaintance who calls herself a death doula
Offered to help me with grieving
But I don’t accept that word “grieving”
It doesn’t describe what you and I went through together
And who I am in the aftermath
As a seeker
I sought the pain, I needed to experience it
The last thing I want to do is get past it
My doctor offered an antidepressant
But as an artist, I need to feel the pain
So my work remains honest
Sooner or later, what I experienced
Will come out in my work
That’s the kind of art I do
That’s what I mean by art
Next: What Are We To Do?