A heavy burden fell off my shoulders. We managed to transfer my mum to a hospice.
My heart was broken every time I visited her at the hospital. I don't even want to talk about it... I desperately wanted her to come home, yet she trusted that only the hospital can deal with her pain and nausea.
Yes, she might be under the influence of high doses of morphine and yes, she is dying, but she is still a human being, who deserves all the kindness, love and warmth than anyone can spare. When welcomed to the hospice, her first words were: 'Here it feels like they haven't given up on me yet.' Bless her heart.
I have been taking Miss R to all the visits. The little one is always so blissfully engrossed in playing with whatever she finds around her; crawling in the grass in front of the hospital, playing with soil, picking up cigarette buds (yuck!), peeling off bark and putting pebbles in her mouth.
My mum likes to see her even for those short minutes of consciousness, although the morphine is really taking all the emotions away. It saddens me that she will never be able to see my children grow up... Their giggles... Their cuddles... Their bumps and bruises... Their hand painted Christmas cards...
Watching her grandchildren grow up was my mum's biggest dream and this has been brutally taken away.