Every day I do my best to live the values I claim to care about. For me, this is living in integrity, or showing up authentically, or whatever being who we say we are translates to in life. Compassion continues to be my true north, a value I deeply believe in. But it’s not always easy, even as important as it is to me, I struggle, almost daily, to live in compassion for others and for myself.
It’s like calling your shot every day. When you declare to the world that something matters, I think the work is to follow through and activate your intention. But the reality is that I don’t always make the shot, I stumble, I miss, and I run into obstacles every damn day. If you know me personally then you know I talk about compassion constantly. My purpose in life is to connect through compassion. Living in compassion impacts how I love and treat myself and how I care for and treat others around me. It’s the mantra that steers me back in a direction that feels healthy and admirable. Having this mantra as a visible statement helps me reflect, it hangs in my office, it’s my background on my LinkedIn profile and I’ll talk to anyone that will listen on the regular. Just declaring it forces me to check myself and be who I say I want to be.
So today I’m focusing on the value I hold so close, today I’m waiting for a phone call to inform me that my mom is no longer with us. Today I am living in the middle, a place with no clarity and more pain than I could imagine. She’s been sick for so long it’s hard to remember what she was like before, and for the last 6 months it’s been a painful process to witness. Alzheimer’s has taken its toll and she is in her last moments on earth. I was able to be by her side this week and say all the things, but this brought little comfort and so much emotion. I held her hand while she slept, I kissed her head and brushed her hair. I talked to her and tried to reassure her that we would be ok, that she had done enough. I watched Sound of Music with her because it was her favorite and even sang the songs by myself even though I do not possess the talent that she did. What I hope for her now is peace, to let go and leave this disease behind. But we wait.

Letting go of the most important people in our lives is not unique, we all face this and we all have our own way of managing through the feelings. The grief, sadness, anger, resentment, unmet expectations, whatever comes with loss is for us to navigate. Those around me are on their own path and as I witness their responses I’m trying, my very best, to lean into the soft part, the loving part, and stay out of judgement. Staying present and nurturing my own heart is the work but the world keeps spinning and the meaningless and important things keep coming, even when we need them to stop.
My Mom was my person for so many years and although I’ve had to let go of what I’ve wanted from our relationship over this last decade of my life, I’ve still been learning and growing in ways I wouldn’t if she wasn’t with me. Now I’m trying to understand how to move through this next part, the part that feels so final, with as much grace as possible. She taught me to open my heart and she also taught me to let others in so I could feel loved and supported, so I’m trying.
The last time I heard my mom speak was over Facetime, just over a week ago before I got to her and she could still find her words. My stepdad was encouraging her and letting her know I was on the phone. I told her I loved her, and she said, “thank you” in the sweetest and most joyful way you can imagine. She was smiling and she seemed genuinely grateful. My heart was full.
So, in this moment, today I am practicing compassion. Compassion with myself to navigate this as best I can and compassion with others to do the same. I feel unbelievably supported by my village of friends and family, which makes it all just a little bit easier. So thank you to everyone that is sending love and prayers, we’ll take them. Thank you Mom for being the woman that I could look up to and learn from, I know you will always be with me in a way that nothing can take away, not distance, not sickness, not even death. I love you
I’ve reached out before. My dad has dementia and I am his caregiver. You are not alone by far. I, also, have a dear friend who is dying from cancer. Compassion is hard in the midst of chaos, but folks like us prevail. Stay in the moment.
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Michelle, your words and your love for your mother are so beautiful and powerful. I’m laying in bed sobbing as I read this blog. I can’t even imagine what you and your family have gone through. With cognitive diseases, you have to grieve the loss of your loved one twice. Alzheimer’s is such an unfair, terrible disease for a family to go through. You are one of the strongest and most beautiful, compassionate people I know. And I know where you get these incredible qualities… I will always remember your mom as the power house she was! She was someone you noticed when she entered a room. Not only because of her beauty, but she was such an incredibly confident, elegant woman. I always loved my time with her… she was never scared to be tough and direct and tell you what you needed to hear. But she was also so incredibly caring, encouraging and compassionate. My heart is with you and your family. No matter what our age, we will always long for and need our mothers. I love you and I am thinking about you, your family and your beautiful mom. Sending peace and love to you all.
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This was so incredibly comforting😭❤️ Thank you for these words my friend and for your beautiful recollection of my Mom🙏🏼 Love you💞
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I’m crying…
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