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My late mother Diane is the strongest woman – the strongest person – I’ve ever known. But she lived most of her life alone and, dare I say, lonely. She and my father never married and fell out of touch with each other decades ago. I cannot recall ever seeing my mother in a mutually fulfilling, long lasting relationship. There is no doubt that her solo lifestyle negatively impacted her mental, emotional, and physical health. Sadly, I watched my mother’s mind and body deteriorate and then fail. 

For decades, my mother bragged that she didn’t care she was alone, claiming to enjoy the solitude. But when she was in her late 70s, she shared with me that she didn’t like being alone. And no longer wanted to be. So, when she got sick with terminal lung cancer and then diagnosed with dementia, I made a promise to myself that my Ma would not die alone.

When I received the horrible phone call from the memory care facility housing my mother that she was in transition, my adult son and I took a flight that same night from Boston, MA to Atlanta, GA. We rented a car and drove more than an hour to the hospice facility that my mother was transported to. My son and I walked into my mother’s room at around 2am. I took her hand as her tiny and weak body lay helplessly in her large bed. Her eyes closed. I leaned down, kissed her, and whispered in her ear that her grandson and I were there. She was not alone, and we weren’t going anywhere. I asked her to squeeze my hand if she could hear me. She did.

Joey and I slept on the sofa bed in Ma’s hospice room, leaving the facility only to pick up my daughter Dani from the airport. Ma held on for a few more days. When she passed, I, along with Joey and two of Ma’s dearest friends, were with her.  Ma died surrounded by her family and friends. She was not alone.