FEST Writing Group

My mother died on September 15 after a four-year illness that demanded a lot of care from her family, especially her husband and her three daughters, including me, the oldest sibling.

All through her illness and the process of her death, I would joke that my four siblings and I were playing above our talent — meaning that we were acting a lot more mature than we really are. Generally speaking, we responded to her and my Dad’s health crises as we could, without argument over who was doing more or who was shirking.

When an event required all hands on deck, sisters, brothers and in laws appeared in some combination to move my parents’ bedroom from upstairs to downstairs; accommodate a hospital bed for Mom and single bed for Dad in their living room, and then return the living room to its former function after Mom died.

Stresses appeared along well-known fault lines. Intensity spiked at periods when my parents’ physical decline increased their need for assistance and then again as my mother was dying.

Much of the intensity centered on the youngest sibling, a sister who lives in Colorado. She had a hard time settling into the roll of care giver, and became an easy target of criticism and gossip.

But she stuck in there, coming to my parents’ Massachusetts home monthly and leaving behind a freezer full of cooked meals. It became clearer and clearer how hard she was working to please our parents and to impress her siblings, in particular the middle sister with whom she has a history of conflict and who spreads the majority of gossip.

My middle sibling, also a sister, functioned as an oldest in relation to our two youngest siblings and was the youngest of the three oldest children. The fulcrum child. She lives closest to the parental home and provided a lot of the hands-on care. She also sounded the warnings when our parents’ need for assistance reached a new level.

Overtime, she showed signs of being over-invested in my parents, particularly as her three children left one by one for college. She had given up on a career to raise her daughters, stating that they would be her life’s work. She suffered greatly when the youngest daughter left home.

I tried to be respectful with my parents and perhaps erred on the side of being too hands off because I wanted them to lead the way. My father is intelligent and of sound mind, as was my mother until her final decline.

At ages 86 (Mom) and 93 (Dad), they renewed their decision to remain in their home. I struggled to find an appropriate level of involvement in light of that decision, which meant they didn’t have the care and assistance an elderly living center would offer. I set them up with an online grocery ordering system and bought Mom a Kindle so she could read her newspapers without walking to the end of the driveway to pick them up. I arranged for mail to be delivered to their door and made sure they had a Lifeline service in case of falls.

Sometimes I would drift toward periods of avoidance, preferring my own busy-ness to driving an hour to be with my parents. Sometimes I found myself in an exhausting competition with my sister over who could demonstrate more caring. Managing myself with my sister in relationship to my mother has always been an issue for me, something that intensified as my mother’s functioning diminished.

My brothers were in and out. One brother, the fourth-oldest sibling, visited Mom every day while she was in rehab because the facility was near where he worked. He and his wife took her in for a few weeks while Dad was in rehab. My other brother, the second oldest sibling, lives two hours away, but would spend weekends doing work for our parents and 18 months ago accompanied Dad to Vimey, France, for a war memorial trip with his old WWII regiment.

When the youngest sibling felt highly anxious, she might drink heavily and explode or invite her friends for a party at our parents’ house. During one night of heavy drinking, the youngest brother said he wouldn’t want to see any of us again after our parents were gone. And there were occasional whispers and eye rolls over what was perceived as too infrequent visits by my oldest brother and his wife and daughter’s general absence.

The youngest sister left for Colorado, angry, four days before Mom died. She was receiving a lot of criticism from our other sister, her children and other caregivers for being unable to wash and change our mother in her final days.

I tried to remember the lessons of Bowen theory. I wanted to be a calm, respectful and neutral presence, as much as was possible for me under the circumstances. I tried not to participate in gossip and to diffuse it when it started. I advanced the idea that we all experience death differently and have to respect that we all are doing the best we can in a difficult time. And I kept in mind that I would be making a contribution by sitting with my own anxiety, rather than spreading it to others. I had varying success.

The day after our mother died, with Dad, my niece, my oldest sister and me by her side, my oldest sister reached out to reconnect with my youngest sister. And my brothers and their families were full participants in a well-choreographed wake and funeral. We each contributed as our talents allowed. I wrote the obit and main eulogy. My brother told stories and played guitar along with my other brother, as my nieces sang.

We are now in mourning for a vibrant, intelligent and kind, if challenging, mother and wife who died the “happy death” she wanted. Dad is resolute in facing his grief. He wants to experience it so he can get to a point where he will start painting again and writing the carving manual that his carving students have asked for. He also wants to bring Mom’s ashes to Canada for burial, go to movie night with my husband and his friend, and read Woodward’s book “Fear.” He has opted against extended visits with his children so he can get used to being alone at home.

I am curious to see how the rest of us progress as the day of our mother’s death recedes. This time of mourning seems rich with lessons and insights, and I am trying not to return to my former, over-committed life in order to remain open to them.

So far, I’ve been able to see more clearly my over-investment in my son and recognize that kindness, humility and curiosity about your children can be more effective than accountability and consequences. By pulling back, I believe I have seen him pull up, taking on the anxiety produced by school work with determination.

My step-daughter has started addressing a serious personal issue, with joy and without telling any of us in advance of her plan.

Today, there is some sibling chatter that our sister is spending too much time with Dad because she can’t abide her empty house. There is some concern being expressed about my parents’ will and property, and the money spent bailing out the bad business decisions of one sibling and spouse.

But I have become much more relaxed about problems because I was reminded during my mother’s dying that good functioning doesn’t depend on having no problems. It depends on managing problems well.

Maybe the maturity my siblings and I showed in relationship to our parents’ aging and Mom’s death was not an aberration. Perhaps it was a reflection of the power of Bowen theory and the 30 years I’ve invested in it, however haltingly and at times ineffectually.

Perhaps theory helped my mother to grant a lasting legacy to her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and enabled us all to receive it.