Six months ago TODAY, my mother slipped peacefully from this life into the next. Just a few days earlier she and dad were picnicking and she slipped and fell. She hit her head on a small stump of an Aspen tree. It didn’t seem too serious—a little lump quickly developed, but said she was fine and they went on their way. That bump on the head produced a slow Venus bleed in my mother’s brain and during the night of August 5th she slipped into a coma of sorts. Dad called 911 and they rushed her to the hospital. At 4:35AM on August 6th, my dad called. I was at a young women’s camp and had not had great reception all week, but the call came through, woke me up and then dropped. I crawled out of the tent, with the sense that all was “not ok” and walked to where I could call Dad back.

“Your mom’s in the hospital. She has a brain bleed and the doctors say that even IF they attempt surgery there is only a 50% chance that she will regain any kind of normal functioning”

Wow. There it is. 💔 The call that I knew was eventually coming.

Mom had suffered a stroke a few years back. That stroke—with the resultant mental confusion (at times) and an aggravating loss of hearing slowly diminished my mother and her capacity to enjoy life and interact with her loved ones. I had already been “missing” her in many ways. She hadn’t been “my mom” for a few years. Even then, right after that phone call, I was grateful for the way that that subtle separation had prepared me for the present trauma and an imminent passing.

Amazingly ALL five of us—me, my two brothers and my two sisters—were able to be with Dad at Mom’s bedside by 5PM that day.

After that phone call and talking with husband, I immediately packed up and left the girl’s camp and drove home. Geoff purchased a one-way plane ticket—and I was in the air in a matter of a few hours. My sister Chanda, in Kansas had much farther to travel and still managed to be there. As we gathered we prayed and gave thanks not only for Mom and our family, but for the convenience of modern travel and flexible schedules that allowed us to come.

The next few days were a mix of emotions—ups and downs—as we cried and reminisced and comforted Dad. Mom seemed to rally a bit once her children were gathered, but then not. And even though we ALL knew that a heroic effort to extend her life was not the right thing, it’s crazy hard to make that decision—to watch your father have to make that decision. Ultimately we brought her home with hospice on Sunday evening, August 8th.

The hospice experience was amazing. We were attended to with so much compassion. A wonderful nurse came that evening to my parent’s home. She arrived just as the transport did. They set up the bed and laid her in the front room. Meds were delivered and lots of instructions given. It was overwhelming, but I felt at peace. I slept on the sofa next to her. That first night was scary. Her breathing woke me several times. She was hot and looked uncomfortable and even with all that the nurse had explained to me, I didn’t know what to do! Needless to say when the hospice aid returned the next morning, I was full of questions and eager to learn. She explained again what I could do. How I could shift her body and how to administer the morphine, etc. She told us what signs we should be looking for, that would indicate she was close to death.

Then a wonderful thing happened. The aid help us remove the ugly hospital gown and put mom in one of her dresses. We washed and brushed her hair and put a necklace on her. It’s hard to estimate the difference these small efforts made. Addie went to the kitchen to make “Grandma’s Peanut Butter cookies” and my niece, Brooklyn painted her nails. Everyone was mourning in their own way, but we gathered at Dad’s request for a family meeting to plan the funeral.

I slept much better than night, with alarms set to help me administer mom’s meds in a better way. On Tuesday, my sister in law, Hillary brought her girls by—they hadn’t come to the hospital and wanted to see grandma. When it was time for them to leave, Dad and I walked them outside and waved good-bye. He then walked with me along the driveway and showed me his garden. We had been outside just long enough for me to realized that the sun was shining and that is was quite warm—maybe 5 minutes. When I walked back in, I looked at the clock in the kitchen. Noon. Time for mom’s meds. Addie and Tatum (another niece) were playing in the dining room. Tatum said, “Aunt Stacy, grandma just took a big breath!” I walked around the corner and my sweet mom was gone. My dad came running and we were so stunned. She had decided to slip away in private. 💜 Which, if you know my mom at all, was so very much like her!

We planned and enjoyed a beautiful funeral celebrating Mom’s life. She was smart, loyal, brave, talented and faithful. Yesterday I got a pedicure and chose a new shade of purple. My mom was a class act. She had manicured hands and feet. In her honor I’m keeping my toes purple until I decide not to anymore. This is one way I’m processing this first year without her. Also, the 17th of each month is now officially “Connie Day” and I do some little bit of family history or sharing as I think about so many wonderful years and happy memories.

I’m not exaggerating when I say that I owe everything good in my life to my mother and I miss her every day!

Connie McDougal Hall obituary