THE WIND PHONE
Mom’s Gone, and I’m Free
Death released us both
“There’s a lightness about you.”
“You look great.”
“You radiate happiness.”
These are only a few of the compliments I’ve received lately. Did I get a makeover or glow-up? Was I released from prison or quit a job I hated?
Nope, my mother died.
Death has upsides, and for me, it’s feeling as if a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. For years, even before my mother was dying, her presence in my life was oppressive.
Not fully aware of my actions, I made decisions with my mother in mind, like not getting too experimental with my hair or swallowing my emotions rather than getting into a fight with her.
I no longer have to be the dutiful daughter — I can live my life for myself. Death isn’t only a sweet release exclusively for the dying; it’s also an emancipation for the living.
Not my mother’s caregiver
During the last year of her life, I wasn’t with my mother twenty-four hours a day, nor did I feed, clean, or calm her when she couldn’t do it for herself. It wasn’t me who pushed her back into bed when her dementia convinced her she could walk. When her throat…
