Death In The Family
Rosemarie grew up in a very close, loving family. She was the youngest of three, and her brothers were 16 and 13 years older than her: they treated her like a princess. She was devoted to both of them, and although, for various reasons, we had seen them less frequently over the last ten years, they were still very close.
As Rosemarie's condition deteriorated we saw them even less. Both the brothers were in their 70s and were not keen on driving up to and through London, and Rosemarie's needs made it difficult to travel to them.
The elder brother, Pat, had not been well for some time. He had a long history of heart problems and a year ago was diagnosed with Dementia. A couple of weeks ago I got a phone call that he was in hospital after a serious fall and there were complications.
This presented a dilemma I had not anticipated. I have no idea how much of what I say Rosemarie actually understands, and even if she could understand there was no way she could go and see him, for the same reasons she could not go to our daughter's wedding. So should I try to tell her?
Two days later, while I was still wrestling with this, I got another phone call saying Pat had died. What should I do now?
Surely this is something she deserved to know. This is her family, her much loved eldest brother. But what would be the point of telling her? If I did successfully communicate it, what would I achieve? She would be overcome by grief and have no way to communicate about it and I would have very little chance of being able to comfort her. She would have long, lonely hours during the day and night to think about it and to be upset.
And she would not be able to go to the funeral. There would be no opportunity for closure, even if she were capable of thinking clearly about it.
And not only that. We have already had many episodes where she gets very upset because (I think) she is remembering the death of her father from Alzheimer's. The last thing we wanted to do was remind her of that.
So I did what still feels like the cowardly thing and did not tell her.
Last Thursday my son and daughter and her husband and I went to the funeral and tried to represent her in some way. It was hard. This was her family: just about every time I have ever seen them she has been there. The ceremony was beautiful and touching, but for me there was something terribly wrong.
There was a large, Rosemarie-shaped hole in the event for me, and I felt sick in my stomach for most of the day.
As Rosemarie's condition deteriorated we saw them even less. Both the brothers were in their 70s and were not keen on driving up to and through London, and Rosemarie's needs made it difficult to travel to them.
The elder brother, Pat, had not been well for some time. He had a long history of heart problems and a year ago was diagnosed with Dementia. A couple of weeks ago I got a phone call that he was in hospital after a serious fall and there were complications.
This presented a dilemma I had not anticipated. I have no idea how much of what I say Rosemarie actually understands, and even if she could understand there was no way she could go and see him, for the same reasons she could not go to our daughter's wedding. So should I try to tell her?
Two days later, while I was still wrestling with this, I got another phone call saying Pat had died. What should I do now?
Surely this is something she deserved to know. This is her family, her much loved eldest brother. But what would be the point of telling her? If I did successfully communicate it, what would I achieve? She would be overcome by grief and have no way to communicate about it and I would have very little chance of being able to comfort her. She would have long, lonely hours during the day and night to think about it and to be upset.
And she would not be able to go to the funeral. There would be no opportunity for closure, even if she were capable of thinking clearly about it.
And not only that. We have already had many episodes where she gets very upset because (I think) she is remembering the death of her father from Alzheimer's. The last thing we wanted to do was remind her of that.
So I did what still feels like the cowardly thing and did not tell her.
Last Thursday my son and daughter and her husband and I went to the funeral and tried to represent her in some way. It was hard. This was her family: just about every time I have ever seen them she has been there. The ceremony was beautiful and touching, but for me there was something terribly wrong.
There was a large, Rosemarie-shaped hole in the event for me, and I felt sick in my stomach for most of the day.
posted by Other Kosh at 10:05 am
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