My mom and my dog died 20 hours apart a couple of years ago, both of them at a ripe old age. And even though my mom spent her last few years at a (very nice) residence, between the two of them there was plenty of poop for me to make peace with in their declining years, and I often framed the care I needed to summon in order to clean up after both of them in exactly the same terms. This was a lovely piece, thank you.
When the visiting nurse suggested to my mother they talk about her impending death, she quipped, “I know exactly when I’m going to die.” The nurse looked at me, I shrugged, and my mother said, “I’m going to die when my Patricia leaves me…”
Wow! First time reader...your humor and honesty coupled with vulnerability and candidness pulled me in throughout your entire essay. Thanks for writing. Thanks for sharing.
Whoa, this took a turn. Yet still completely relatable. I started reading this essay (thanks to a link to the newsletter from Kim France) because I recently became the primary caregiver for my octogenarian mother. Replace poop with pee. Welcome to my day. My niece once said that my home smelled like "Eau de Urine." The most surprising aspect of this job is getting to know my mother. It's not always easy to realize she's not the demi-god I thought she was. Keep taking care of your mom. Having her around is totally worth cleaning up poop every morning.
I cleaned up my mom many times after her bowel accidents - in her home, in a gas station in the Colorado mountains, and even on the side of the highway in Ireland when I took my parents for what turned out to be their last travel adventure. It's never fun, but I'm proud I was there for her!
Yes, so beautifully written. But for me, this was chilling and familiar. It has been 6 months since my 95 year old mother finally passed. My grieving has taken the shape of HUGE relief and happiness, mixed with less frequent but aching guilt. Despite, or maybe because of, her heavy use of the “ love withdrawl” method of parenting me, I am an Empath who readily sees internal suffering in others. I sometimes emotionally withdrew from her in her last years of life. I don’t think I regret doing that, it was my emotional survival mechanism, but I do feel deep sadness for her suffering. She stopped eating and then drinking, and it took 11 days for her to die.
Beautifully honest and real. Your "evolution" as a daughter who accepts and dare I say, loves, her mother despite a seemingly complicated relationship is impressive: I applaud you! Thank you for sharing and not forcing us to read yet another glorified and false Hollywood ending. I wish you peace.
It Could Happen to You (and Probably Will)
Nothing like reading about poop with my morning coffee. I loved this.
I love the kids book Everyone Poops—this is a great grown up version, and dare I say it, very moving—thank you.
What a spectacular and nuanced piece, beautifully written. Your honesty really moved me. Thank you
My mom and my dog died 20 hours apart a couple of years ago, both of them at a ripe old age. And even though my mom spent her last few years at a (very nice) residence, between the two of them there was plenty of poop for me to make peace with in their declining years, and I often framed the care I needed to summon in order to clean up after both of them in exactly the same terms. This was a lovely piece, thank you.
Whoever you are, this was unexpectedly beautiful.
When the visiting nurse suggested to my mother they talk about her impending death, she quipped, “I know exactly when I’m going to die.” The nurse looked at me, I shrugged, and my mother said, “I’m going to die when my Patricia leaves me…”
Thank you for your vulnerable slice of humanity.
A beautiful nitty gritty account. Life stripped to its bones. The essentials. Loved the writing and the story.
Wow! First time reader...your humor and honesty coupled with vulnerability and candidness pulled me in throughout your entire essay. Thanks for writing. Thanks for sharing.
Whoa, this took a turn. Yet still completely relatable. I started reading this essay (thanks to a link to the newsletter from Kim France) because I recently became the primary caregiver for my octogenarian mother. Replace poop with pee. Welcome to my day. My niece once said that my home smelled like "Eau de Urine." The most surprising aspect of this job is getting to know my mother. It's not always easy to realize she's not the demi-god I thought she was. Keep taking care of your mom. Having her around is totally worth cleaning up poop every morning.
I cleaned up my mom many times after her bowel accidents - in her home, in a gas station in the Colorado mountains, and even on the side of the highway in Ireland when I took my parents for what turned out to be their last travel adventure. It's never fun, but I'm proud I was there for her!
Just wonderfully poignant and sad and beautiful. Thank you for this little light in the day.
Yes, so beautifully written. But for me, this was chilling and familiar. It has been 6 months since my 95 year old mother finally passed. My grieving has taken the shape of HUGE relief and happiness, mixed with less frequent but aching guilt. Despite, or maybe because of, her heavy use of the “ love withdrawl” method of parenting me, I am an Empath who readily sees internal suffering in others. I sometimes emotionally withdrew from her in her last years of life. I don’t think I regret doing that, it was my emotional survival mechanism, but I do feel deep sadness for her suffering. She stopped eating and then drinking, and it took 11 days for her to die.
thank you for this. thank you.
Such undisguised reality! The poop has it!!
Beautifully honest and real. Your "evolution" as a daughter who accepts and dare I say, loves, her mother despite a seemingly complicated relationship is impressive: I applaud you! Thank you for sharing and not forcing us to read yet another glorified and false Hollywood ending. I wish you peace.
Good writing! Thanks for this cheerful reminder that life is just a bowl of, I don't know, cherries?