"When we first moved, I had that small window of opportunity to go out and live on my own. Mom had been diagnosed with Parkinsons about five or so years before. She was already beginning to feel some effects of it, and asked me to stay with her as a companion as well as to help with caring for Mike. She was well aware that her decline was going to progress. I was working full time at a clinic then and only assisted with things in the evenings and the weekends.
As time progressed, her decline became more and more apparent with not only her Parkinsons, but also her diabetes. In Spring of 2018, she experienced her first episode of diabetic shock, and she experienced them several times that year. Unfortunately, my job (in combination with Mom’s health changes) had become so stressful that I began suffering to the point of feeling worthless, and I eventually lost the job. As difficult as that was it seemed the timing was perfect. My mom needed my attention full-time and I was able to have some time to reset my personal imbalances. While I was visiting the hospital with Mom, Leslie confirmed to me that it was meant to be: To be home with Mom for her final last years. I found my time helping Mom to be therapeutic for me as it reminded me who I was and that my worth wasn’t lost after all.
Mom and I had a good relationship. Even from my earliest years I remember having a lot of one-on-one time with her. She was easy to talk to, and she knew that I was tender so she was rarely harsh with me when I needed to be corrected in a mistake. She was also supportive in my creative tendencies. I exhibited a creative and imaginative side, and as a result she put me into children’s theater with the hopes of helping me develop those tendencies. That extended into letting me join my neighbor’s children’s choir program a year or so later. There was always that comfort to know that whenever a play was performed or the seasonal concerts were held, Mom would be in the audience.
Mom also had a sense of humor, and there were numerous amounts of times when I would sit with her that we would sit there and laugh. Sometimes I was the one who got it going, but many times it was Mom. She’d often say something in such a way that it would strike me funny, so I’d start laughing, and then she would laugh. Other times, she’d intentionally pull faces at me to get me laughing. It was always funny to her how easily I was amused.
Our time together wasn’t always easy. There were plenty of struggles we shared together, and Mom put me to the test once in a while. She knew that some of those things weren’t easy for me to deal with, and felt a little bad for making me deal with them. Every once in a while, I’d finish helping her with something and as I was leaving the room, she’d say to me, “Thanks, Becky.” I knew she meant it every time. There were times that I struggled, being so tired from having to help her so much, but I often sensed my grandma nearby watching over me as I continued on doing my duty. It helped me stay calm through those hard times.
Mom knew how to face trials, even the ones that weren’t easy, without complaining. Instead, she quietly went about her business trying to take care of the issue on hand until it worked out. She was mild-mannered and never let her emotions get in the way of taking care of what needed to be done. I witnessed Mom exercise that gift many times, particularly in circumstances with Mike. There were a few situations when she had a perfect right to be angry and sue for negligence, but she never had the desire to follow through with it. Instead, she quietly redirected the course of his care and moved on. I was fortunate enough to grow up witnessing Mom’s special relationship with Mike.
Mike was quite sickly when he was young. I remember several times of Mom asking Dad to give him blessings, and one particular time going with her to pick him up at the Payson hospital after he recovered from a case of pneumonia. One of my most vivid memories as a child are of Mom sitting on Mike’s bedroom floor and holding him in her arms to comfort him during an illness. She would sit there for a lengthy amount of time singing. Some of the songs were lullabies, some were children’s songs she’d learned. There was always the classical rendition of Michael, Row Your Boat Ashore, and the infamous made-up song that no one would ever let her forget called Cutie Pa-Fruity. Poor Mom got teased on that one for years. It’s one of the most beautiful memories I have of her.
My siblings joke about me having the magic touch when it comes to dealing with Mike, particularly getting him to eat, but I credit all of that skill to Mom. Being so close in age, I spent a lot of time watching her care for Mike. I’d picked up enough of how she took care of him that at about six years old I made an attempt to take it in my own hands to give him a drink while I was alone with him. He let me give it to him, and when Mom found out about it, it didn’t take long before I joined my siblings in being responsible for him—though I needed an older sibling to assist at first. It was an exciting and happy time for me, that Mom felt I was ready to help take care of him at such a young age.
Mike’s not able to speak for himself, and since I’m so close in age with more familiarity to his personality I’ve often been called on to represent. Mike loves his family, and that included Mom. There’s a special bond between them. Mom would have loved to take care of him to the end, but even though her health denied her of that opportunity, she still liked to sit with him and hold his hand. Those were special moments for me to witness. I always loved watching Mom give him a cuddle and watch him start leaning toward her. Mike knew who she was and often responded to her gestures.
These past few months when I’ve had to take care of Mike and Mom at about the same time, I would wheel Mom next to Mike while I took care of lunch and watched a movie. Mom really enjoyed that time we spent together and it gave her a chance to fuss over Mike a little. We made a mighty trio.
I have a memory of sitting with Mom in church, and we were discussing a lesson. She stood up and talked about how she wished Mike could be healed to become complete and whole. It was one of the few times I’d seen her get emotional. We often discuss what it would be like to see him in that manner, and it’s something she most of all us hopes to witness one day.
For many, the holiday season is the worst time of year to lose a loved one, and I’ve worried a little about whether having this experience would leave a negative impact on me since I love Christmas time; however, I’ve always loved the holiday for its focus on the physical as well as spiritual contrast between darkness and light; death and new life; despair and hope, for it’s in experiencing darkness that we appreciate the light, and this season reminds us that the ultimate light comes from Christ. We have several family birthdays during the holidays, including Mom’s and Mikes that we celebrate in addition to the life of Christ. Having this experience emphasizes the importance of the savior’s mission and the promise that one day we’ll all be together again with perfected bodies no longer subjected to mortal afflictions. I’m thankful for having this promise and look forward to the day we’ll see Mom again."
