Shared story: My journey as a long-distance caregiver, Part 3

Today’s post is the third of three from Cindy Gossman, Venice, Florida, who for several years
was a long-distance caregiver for her mother who lived at The Christian Village at Mason (Ohio).
Click to read Part 1 and Part 2.

Many people speak of life as a journey. I’ve come to realize that my life has been a series of many journeys: A physical/intellectual one from childhood to adulthood. A spiritual journey to faith. Working a job until retirement. Slogging through—and hopefully learning from—life experiences to reach a level of maturity. The highs and lows of spiritual growth. The inevitable aging process. 

Sharp turns, new grief

My most recent journey has been with Mom through her battle with Alzheimer’s. I’ve been on this road for about five years, through unexpected sharp turns, detours, and roadblocks. It has been paved with concern, stress, decisions to make, some guilt, a few regrets, occasional laughter, and a shock or two. I’ve experienced periods of grief along the way, via sudden, unexpected roadblocks.

Cindy’s brother, Mike, snapped this picture of Jinnie on Mother’s Day 2022.

One such experience of grief occurred on a Sunday in May 2022. We’d made a quick trip to Ohio to attend a concert in which our granddaughter Eden was singing. I’d scheduled a time to visit Mom at lunchtime on Sunday. Since we’d realized that Jinnie could no longer go out of the building without extreme stress and discomfort, we’d decided to take Skyline chili in and eat lunch with her in her room. But that morning, the nurse called me from Mom’s room: Jinnie was very agitated and angry, banging her walker against the door. I asked to talk to her, so the nurse held the phone to her ear. I said several times, in a cheerful voice: “Hi Mom, it’s Cindy!”

I could hear her in the background:  “I don’t want to talk to her.”  My last attempt was met with, “I can’t hear. Go away!”

That brought on another wave of grief. Not so much because she wouldn’t talk to me, but at the realization that she had entered another phase of decline. Another part of my relationship with Mom had been lost. I’d long since realized that I’d become the mother and she the child. That reality hit with full force that morning.

Through it all, the Lord has been with me. I’ve been blessed not only with God’s peace and presence, but also with the love and support of my husband, brother and sister-in-law, family, and friends.

A journey finished, a journey continued

I’d always assumed that when Mom died, the journey would be over. And Jinnie’s journey is over! On October 30, 2022, Jinnie Helm left her earthly life and reached her ultimate Home in Heaven.

Cindy and Mark posed together before Jinnie’s funeral last year.

But for me, the journey is continuing. Yes, it has now veered sharply in a different direction, but I still have some unknown distance to travel. This new leg of the journey does feel different. I’m navigating a new reality of finality. Once in a while I still find myself checking my phone for the time and what else is on the calendar for the day, to see if the time would work to call Mom. I suddenly stop and remind myself that I won’t be making those calls anymore.

Mark’s post a few weeks ago about this Christmas being the same, but different, resonated with me. For the past several years we have not been with Mom at Christmas, but I’d always call or FaceTime, and Mike would text me pictures when he’d go visit Mom for the day. So this Christmas was a final same-but-different one. 

But God has once again provided His peace. Of course, the knowledge that Mom is gone from this earth is still very much in the forefront of my mind, but I’m all the more keenly aware of the many things I have for which to be thankful—not the least of which is that Jinnie’s death was quick and she died peacefully. She did not have to linger in pain, in a hospital bed for days or weeks. Mike and Heidi were with her, holding her hand. Her struggle is over, and I’m confident—and content—that she is now whole, healed, and Home.

Last year was very difficult for us: My breast cancer diagnosis, surgery, and treatment. The stress of preparing for and dealing with the aftermath of Hurricane Ian. Mom’s severe decline and sudden departure. 

Friends frequently ask me how I’m doing. I can honestly say I’m feeling great. I’m thankful every day for so many blessings from God. Healing from surgery, radiation, and breast cancer. Safety and protection from the hurricane. God’s presence and peace through all of Mom’s last months of struggle. The love and support of my husband, family, and many friends. Countless daily blessings large and small. Most of all, the confidence and assurance of salvation through my Lord Jesus. I celebrated Christmas with a sharpened awareness of all the ways God has blessed us. 

“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light . . .”  —Isaiah 9:2

“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.”  —John 1:14

“Glory to God in the highest!”  —Luke 2:14