Pages

Sunday, June 15, 2014

Flowers gone with the season change



For a long time I neglected the works of gardening but the lovely flowers, seemingly untamed but actually taken care by my husband, surely comforted me while I cared for and watched over my mother in turn with my siblings at her home in Kobe.  These are some of the flowers which made me pleased and smile since the start of my mother's hospice care at home in February.  (Hospice at home)   The doctor specializes in palliative cares and psychosomatic medicine.



Pansies and Violas were vibrant when my entire garden was dormant in winter and lasted till the end of May.




Christmas Roses look discreet always facing downward. 
They reminded me of my mother suffering and enduring in silence.


Japanese white eyes and Brown-eared bulbuls like this Camellia.
I was relaxed watching them coming and going.

 

Another Camellia with big face could be seen from where I tapped the keyboard of my laptop.


At around the time when Rhododendrons bloomed, spring was fully sprung in my garden.

The medicine to treat her anxiety for breathlessness, with which she was caught a few times with horror, seems to have made her unable to speak smoothly.


Her whole body was apparently weakening constantly but mind was rather sharp.


When dogwood was going to end, season was changing into early summer.
Delirium occurred more often to her and wakefulness made her suffer at night.  In the daytime, she looked relatively comfortable while her pain and anxiety was treated by medical morphine. Delirium, "senmo" in Japanese, is culturally thought to be the coming of the deceased loved ones to take her to paradise.



On a rainy day, something magical was happening when I stepped into the garden.

My favorite Bluebell
Blooming strawberry plant bore fruits soon.

Until six days before her death, she sat on the chair and ate, though what she could eat was only jelly-like things because not only small pieces of solid food but also liquid choked her.  She liked to taste sip by sip the broken and stirred strawberries harvested in my garden. 






 This Hanaguruma azalea, or Rhododendron macrosepalum cv. Hanaguruma, 
was presented by my mother
when I had a house on this land thirty years ago.




Five days before her death, her wakefulness at night ended and she slept the whole night through till she was awaken late in the morning to find heart pains.  Rapidly she went downturn: only a small piece of ice was placed on her tongue to wet her throat but soon she got unable to swallow up even the melted ice.  Families gathered to see her one last time and we children cycled in and out of the room for the next four days, showing our thankfulness and goodbyes in our own different ways.  She kept on sleeping while her pain was under control by suppository of medical morphine, and then ..... she breathed her last quietly after being in a deep sleep for two days on June 5.  The rainy season set in the previous day.


Wake and funeral were held at home as she had wished, attended by about 40 people including only the family of children, grandchildren, great-grand children and the very small number of people who had been closest to her.  The alter was made with her favorite-colored flowers, pink, red, and lavender, based around the color white.


 Thank you for your unconditional love, encouraging sweet smiles,
and guiding me by your attitude throughout your life.

May your soul rest in peace, Mom.