\r\nThis was written December 8th, 2025<\/i>\r\n<\/p>\r\n\r\nThe Gradual Decline<\/h2>\r\n
\r\nOh mother, how I’ve loved and looked up to you. To me, you’ve always been the one constant\r\nin my life. Strong, reliable, and level-headed. And the most caring person I’ve ever known.\r\nBut alas, some of these qualities eventually eroded. Just like it turns mountains into\r\npebbles, time also turns people into but a shadow of their true selves. The changes are\r\ngradual, small at first, but progression, or should I say regression, keeps at its steady pace.\r\n<\/p>
\r\nAt first, the changes seemed minor and insignificant. Maybe it was just me pointlessly\r\nworrying, no? Small changes in your mood and behavior. You topics were a bit less varied,\r\nyou often repeated the same stories. You had become more irritable, seemingly holding\r\ngrudges from long ago. It felt so odd to me, because my entire life, I’d see you be so\r\npatient, loving, and willing to let things go. But I swept this away, thinking it was just\r\na phase, or that I was imagining things…I tried to rationalize it and avoid the reality\r\nof it. And I probably only noticed because we spent so much time together. None of the\r\nothers seemed to pick up on it.\r\n<\/p>
\r\nAnd then, the changes became more perceptible. You became a bit more forgetful. And this\r\nalso was gradual. At first, you would just forget a few worlds here and there. Then you\r\nstarted forgetting what you had intended to do, trying to trace back your steps and\r\nthoughts to remember what you’d meant to do. Then you started losing your train of thoughts\r\nmore frequently.\r\n<\/p>
\r\nAnd I could tell you could realize it too, and that it scared you, but that you didn’t\r\nwant any of us to be concerned, instead trying to be strong for us. But how you clung\r\non old memories, often spending hours in front of old photographs, just trying to remember\r\nthese, yet sometimes lacking that sign of recognition in your eyes. And I could see how\r\nmuch that frustrated you.\r\n<\/p>
\r\nAlas, if only it had stopped there. After a certain tipping point, it started feeling\r\nlike a free-fall. You behavior changed completely, and you adopted a lot of mannerisms\r\nwe associate with children. You started becoming pickier with food, even making grimaces\r\nwhen there was something you didn’t really like. And your cognitive faculties also\r\nplummeted, there were so many things you’d grown to be unable to do. You, who had always\r\nbeen so independent! And always so happily helping others with their own things. I could\r\nsee how in those moments of lucidity, you were so embarrassed to accept my help, how it\r\nwas eating you. Yet, it only felt natural for me to take care of you like you had for us\r\nso many years ago. It never felt like a burden. But it did still hurt so much to see all\r\nthose changes.\r\n<\/p>
\r\nAnd eventually, you started forgetting proper. You started to forget more and more people,\r\nI could clearly see it in your eyes. You did try to pretend you remembered them, but just\r\nwas forgetful about their name, often just trying to use workarounds, but I could see in\r\nyour expression the lack of recognition. I can at least say I was lucky that, until the\r\nend, you never did forget me, nor my name.\r\n<\/p>
\r\nAnd then, at last, the last bastions of your cognition started to collapse one by one.\r\nLucidity disappeared, you weren’t living in the present anymore. You couldn’t hold any\r\nsort of conversation, and became detached from reality. To you, toy animals and baby dolls\r\nseemed as real as the original for which they served as simulacra. You started talking\r\nto them soothingly. And honestly, it seemed to be good for you, anchoring you back in\r\nthe present, the responsibilities giving you a sense of purpose and a direction.\r\n<\/p>
\r\nAnd at last, it happened. You tossed the towel and were ready to move on. You simply\r\nceased to feed yourself. No matter how much we tried to get you to eat, you would simply\r\nrefuse all together. That seemed to be your way to let us know you were ready to move on.\r\nBut despite being ready, you were clearly scared, and in a moment of lucidity made me\r\npromise I would stay with you and wouldn’t allow you to die alone. And I did keep my\r\npromise, until the end, I was by your side.\r\n<\/p>
\r\nEventually, the inevitable arrive. You plunged into an endless coma. At that point, we\r\nknew you weren’t long for this world, and I stayed by your side. To respect your wishes,\r\nwe prevented the doctors from artificially extending your life. And I stayed by your side,\r\nday and night. And I kept talking to you and holding your hand. While you were in a coma,\r\nI knew you were still present, still aware of what was happening around you. For as I talked\r\nto you, you would from time to time squeeze my hand. And it was clearly intentional, at\r\nmeaningful times.\r\n<\/p>
\r\nDuring this period, I made sure to contact the different people that had played an\r\nimportant role in your life that were still alive. Family, friends, etc… And most of\r\nthem did come to see you, talk to you, recount some great times they’d had together. And\r\nthe inevitable waterworks were par for the coursed. Yet, there were also a few who opted\r\nnot to come see you, stating they didn’t want to see you in this such a state, that they\r\nwanted to remember you as you were at your prime. I never did tell you, because I knew\r\nyou would have been devastated. I could never understand this, since I personally would\r\nhave come to regret such a decision, yet I could do nothing but to respect their wishes.\r\n<\/p>
\r\nEventually, once everyone had come, I came by your side and talked soothingly. I let you\r\nknow everyone had come for you, and that you didn’t have to hold on for us anymore, that\r\nyou could let go and move on. I told you that you didn’t have to wait for the others, that\r\nthey wouldn’t be coming, that they couldn’t come. I told you you didn’t have to keep\r\nfighting for us, that it wasn’t selfish and we understood. That I loved you and would\r\nmiss you, that you’d done me right and I was proud that you’d been my mother, my role model.\r\nYet that I knew you were suffering, and didn’t have to endure it any longer. Finally, I\r\nreminded you of all the people that had left us already, and that they were waiting for,\r\nready to escort you in the afterlife. And I kept holding your hand throughout, because\r\nI wanted you to know you weren’t alone, and that you didn’t have to be afraid. And\r\neventually, sleep took the best of me.\r\n<\/p>
\r\nAnd at last, it happened. I woke up, and heard a final and labored breath. I just knew it\r\nwas the last one, but still waited for a while, counting and listening. I kept hold of\r\nyou hand and kissed your forehead. After it had been a few minutes, I got up and\r\ncalled for one of the guards. I didn’t expect to be able to handle this so calmly,\r\nand yet here I was. I told them you’d last breathed a few minutes ago, and that I knew\r\nyou’d passed. Still, the doctor had to come check on you and pronounce you dead themself.\r\nOnce that was done, I started contacting everyone, asking if they wanted to see your body\r\none last time. Most of those in the vicinity did come to say their final farewells.\r\n<\/p>
\r\nAfter this was done, I mindlessly and automatically went through the formalities. What to\r\ndo with your body, handling the finances and your last will, taking care of the funerals.\r\nThis part was exhausting, since I had to go through the grieving process all over again.\r\n<\/p>
\r\nAnd now that it’s all over, I wanted to a moment to reflect upon it all. It’s weird, you\r\nknow. The way one’s life can feel so symmetric, reverting to your younger days at old age.\r\nAnd how I, as your child, eventually had to take care of you in the same way you’d once\r\ntaken care of me. You who had loved children so much, loved taking care of them and seeing\r\nthem grow.\r\n<\/p>
\r\nAnd here I am, after all of this, with you gone. I do miss you so much, but that’s the\r\ncost of having someone so great take such an important role in your life, for nothing\r\nlasts forever.\r\n<\/p>
\r\nUltimately, the hardest thing in all of this was never taking care of you, spending all\r\nmy time with you trying to make you happy to the very end. This came easy to me, why\r\nwouldn’t I want to do this, especially when you remained so welcoming. Not, what was\r\nhard for me was the grieving process. Through this long process of degeneration, I had\r\nto gradually grieve your loss. The person I used to know was gradually slipping away,\r\ndisappearing, and yet, you were still present, still there in front of me. Until at the\r\nend, you finally moved on. And I knew how much you were suffering by the end of it, so\r\nI was glad this suffering could finally stop. Yet, I had to grieve you all over again,\r\nsince I had now lost you for a second time. And now I feel so alone, without your warm\r\npresence around me. I love you.\r\n<\/p>\r\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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 … Continue reading Writing Challenge 2025 \u2013 11 – The Gradual Decline<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"bgseo_title":"","bgseo_description":"","bgseo_robots_index":"index","bgseo_robots_follow":"follow","footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2509","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.shawnmeanders.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2509","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.shawnmeanders.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.shawnmeanders.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.shawnmeanders.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.shawnmeanders.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2509"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.shawnmeanders.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2509\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2596,"href":"https:\/\/www.shawnmeanders.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2509\/revisions\/2596"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.shawnmeanders.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2509"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.shawnmeanders.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2509"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.shawnmeanders.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2509"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}