Why I’m Thankful My Mom Died Before Coronavirus

This month marks the fifth anniversary of my mom’s death. The shocking thought has been spinning in my head for the past few weeks: I’m so glad my mother isn’t alive right now.

As the coronavirus pandemic progresses, I often find myself thinking about my mother who suffered from Lewy body dementia (LBD). If there was any hope of surviving this cruel disease, of course, I wish she were still alive. I miss my mom more than words can say.

The experience of losing my mother terribly bit by bit through dementia and then permanently through death was a heartbreaking experience. She was my best friend, confidant, and the biggest advocate in my life. How do you live without your mother?

And yet it could have been much worse.

If my mother were still alive, she would have panicked over this pandemic, the riots, and the news about killer hornets. She would be glued to the television watching every terrifying detail.

LBD is a cruel combination of Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s symptoms that left my mom physically and mentally helpless towards the end of her life. The disease is known to torment its victims with vivid hallucinations, delusions, and night terrors. Sometimes my mother was in a total panic because she thought there was a bear in the laundry room. I can’t imagine the paranoid delusions these scary times would have caused if she was still here.

And God forbid, if you do get infected with the virus, a clear possibility with your weakened immune system. I cannot conceive of the terror she would feel, confused by her insanity, without her loved ones by her side during her final days.

I think of the painful but heartbreaking final moments with Mom before she died. My heart breaks when I hear about those who were forced to be separated from their loved ones during their last hours. Precious time is being robbed of them to share meaningful stories, feelings, and memories in the days, hours, and minutes leading up to death. It horrifies me to read and hear about people trying to say goodbye virtually, deprived of those final intimate moments, holding hands and hugging their loved ones.

About a week before my mom died, surprisingly, she became more alert than she had been in months. “This feels like a party,” he said after noticing that his sister-in-law and an old friend were visiting. She asked to wear her favorite red lipstick and rings and wanted a sip of wine. We happily granted all wishes. My mother talked about taking a trip to Maui together and we played Hawaiian music in the background. Later that day, Mom went to sleep feeling content.

That was the last time we were able to have a meaningful conversation with her. It was as if Mom came back to life briefly to say goodbye. But at that moment, family and friends had the last chance to tell her how much we love her. Not everyone has the opportunity to do that and for that precious gift, I am forever grateful.

The day my mom died, the hospice nurse warned me that my mom would likely pass away in the next two hours. She was right, but during those final moments, we were able to express our love for Mom and tell her how much she meant to us one last time. We promised that we would take care of each other after she left. We were able to kiss and hold her during our last moments together. Everyone deserves these precious moments.

Not to mention, people are deprived of being with loved ones who provide comfort after death. The sacred ritual of saying goodbye with funerals and memorial services with prayers and words of remembrance to honor the loved one was cruelly removed.

I also think of the caregivers of loved ones with dementia. The statistics are brutal. One in three older people dies with Alzheimer’s or another type of dementia, while 15 million family caregivers care for someone with the disease. As if caring for a loved one with dementia wasn’t isolated and stressful enough, I can’t even imagine what these unsung heroes are up against during these times.

If any of this describes you, my thoughts and prayers are with you during these heartbreaking times.