This was written December 8th, 2025
The Gradual Decline
Oh mother, how I’ve loved and looked up to you. To me, you’ve always been the one constant in my life. Strong, reliable, and level-headed. And the most caring person I’ve ever known. But alas, some of these qualities eventually eroded. Just like it turns mountains into pebbles, time also turns people into but a shadow of their true selves. The changes are gradual, small at first, but progression, or should I say regression, keeps at its steady pace.
At first, the changes seemed minor and insignificant. Maybe it was just me pointlessly worrying, no? Small changes in your mood and behavior. You topics were a bit less varied, you often repeated the same stories. You had become more irritable, seemingly holding grudges from long ago. It felt so odd to me, because my entire life, I’d see you be so patient, loving, and willing to let things go. But I swept this away, thinking it was just a phase, or that I was imagining things…I tried to rationalize it and avoid the reality of it. And I probably only noticed because we spent so much time together. None of the others seemed to pick up on it.
And then, the changes became more perceptible. You became a bit more forgetful. And this also was gradual. At first, you would just forget a few worlds here and there. Then you started forgetting what you had intended to do, trying to trace back your steps and thoughts to remember what you’d meant to do. Then you started losing your train of thoughts more frequently.
And I could tell you could realize it too, and that it scared you, but that you didn’t want any of us to be concerned, instead trying to be strong for us. But how you clung on old memories, often spending hours in front of old photographs, just trying to remember these, yet sometimes lacking that sign of recognition in your eyes. And I could see how much that frustrated you.
Alas, if only it had stopped there. After a certain tipping point, it started feeling like a free-fall. You behavior changed completely, and you adopted a lot of mannerisms we associate with children. You started becoming pickier with food, even making grimaces when there was something you didn’t really like. And your cognitive faculties also plummeted, there were so many things you’d grown to be unable to do. You, who had always been so independent! And always so happily helping others with their own things. I could see how in those moments of lucidity, you were so embarrassed to accept my help, how it was eating you. Yet, it only felt natural for me to take care of you like you had for us so many years ago. It never felt like a burden. But it did still hurt so much to see all those changes.
And eventually, you started forgetting proper. You started to forget more and more people, I could clearly see it in your eyes. You did try to pretend you remembered them, but just was forgetful about their name, often just trying to use workarounds, but I could see in your expression the lack of recognition. I can at least say I was lucky that, until the end, you never did forget me, nor my name.
And then, at last, the last bastions of your cognition started to collapse one by one. Lucidity disappeared, you weren’t living in the present anymore. You couldn’t hold any sort of conversation, and became detached from reality. To you, toy animals and baby dolls seemed as real as the original for which they served as simulacra. You started talking to them soothingly. And honestly, it seemed to be good for you, anchoring you back in the present, the responsibilities giving you a sense of purpose and a direction.
And at last, it happened. You tossed the towel and were ready to move on. You simply ceased to feed yourself. No matter how much we tried to get you to eat, you would simply refuse all together. That seemed to be your way to let us know you were ready to move on. But despite being ready, you were clearly scared, and in a moment of lucidity made me promise I would stay with you and wouldn’t allow you to die alone. And I did keep my promise, until the end, I was by your side.
Eventually, the inevitable arrive. You plunged into an endless coma. At that point, we knew you weren’t long for this world, and I stayed by your side. To respect your wishes, we prevented the doctors from artificially extending your life. And I stayed by your side, day and night. And I kept talking to you and holding your hand. While you were in a coma, I knew you were still present, still aware of what was happening around you. For as I talked to you, you would from time to time squeeze my hand. And it was clearly intentional, at meaningful times.
During this period, I made sure to contact the different people that had played an important role in your life that were still alive. Family, friends, etc… And most of them did come to see you, talk to you, recount some great times they’d had together. And the inevitable waterworks were par for the coursed. Yet, there were also a few who opted not to come see you, stating they didn’t want to see you in this such a state, that they wanted to remember you as you were at your prime. I never did tell you, because I knew you would have been devastated. I could never understand this, since I personally would have come to regret such a decision, yet I could do nothing but to respect their wishes.
Eventually, once everyone had come, I came by your side and talked soothingly. I let you know everyone had come for you, and that you didn’t have to hold on for us anymore, that you could let go and move on. I told you that you didn’t have to wait for the others, that they wouldn’t be coming, that they couldn’t come. I told you you didn’t have to keep fighting for us, that it wasn’t selfish and we understood. That I loved you and would miss you, that you’d done me right and I was proud that you’d been my mother, my role model. Yet that I knew you were suffering, and didn’t have to endure it any longer. Finally, I reminded you of all the people that had left us already, and that they were waiting for, ready to escort you in the afterlife. And I kept holding your hand throughout, because I wanted you to know you weren’t alone, and that you didn’t have to be afraid. And eventually, sleep took the best of me.
And at last, it happened. I woke up, and heard a final and labored breath. I just knew it was the last one, but still waited for a while, counting and listening. I kept hold of you hand and kissed your forehead. After it had been a few minutes, I got up and called for one of the guards. I didn’t expect to be able to handle this so calmly, and yet here I was. I told them you’d last breathed a few minutes ago, and that I knew you’d passed. Still, the doctor had to come check on you and pronounce you dead themself. Once that was done, I started contacting everyone, asking if they wanted to see your body one last time. Most of those in the vicinity did come to say their final farewells.
After this was done, I mindlessly and automatically went through the formalities. What to do with your body, handling the finances and your last will, taking care of the funerals. This part was exhausting, since I had to go through the grieving process all over again.
And now that it’s all over, I wanted to a moment to reflect upon it all. It’s weird, you know. The way one’s life can feel so symmetric, reverting to your younger days at old age. And how I, as your child, eventually had to take care of you in the same way you’d once taken care of me. You who had loved children so much, loved taking care of them and seeing them grow.
And here I am, after all of this, with you gone. I do miss you so much, but that’s the cost of having someone so great take such an important role in your life, for nothing lasts forever.
Ultimately, the hardest thing in all of this was never taking care of you, spending all my time with you trying to make you happy to the very end. This came easy to me, why wouldn’t I want to do this, especially when you remained so welcoming. Not, what was hard for me was the grieving process. Through this long process of degeneration, I had to gradually grieve your loss. The person I used to know was gradually slipping away, disappearing, and yet, you were still present, still there in front of me. Until at the end, you finally moved on. And I knew how much you were suffering by the end of it, so I was glad this suffering could finally stop. Yet, I had to grieve you all over again, since I had now lost you for a second time. And now I feel so alone, without your warm presence around me. I love you.