{"id":29793,"date":"2025-12-27T10:12:26","date_gmt":"2025-12-27T17:12:26","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/maxcarmichael.com\/blog\/?p=29793"},"modified":"2026-02-10T21:21:42","modified_gmt":"2026-02-11T04:21:42","slug":"letters-to-my-mother-part-4-i-tried-to-help","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/maxcarmichael.com\/blog\/?p=29793","title":{"rendered":"Letters to My Mother, Part 4: I Tried to Help"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/h2>\n

Previous: Losing Your Struggle<\/a><\/p>\n

\n

More Than a Loss<\/a><\/p>\n

More Than a Parent<\/a><\/p>\n

Old and Unprepared<\/a><\/p>\n

My Trials<\/a><\/p>\n

How I Coped<\/a><\/p>\n

The Work Ahead<\/a><\/p>\n

\n

More Than a Loss<\/h1>\n

When a loved one dies
\nSlowly, in front of us<\/p>\n

It’s not a loss<\/em>
\nLike losing our keys or wallet
\nIt’s our flesh and blood
\nDying in front of our eyes!<\/p>\n

It’s a trauma we suffer through
\nOver a period of time
\nA weight that adds to our load
\nWorks on us over time<\/p>\n

I haven’t lost you
\nYou’re always with me
\nIn my heart<\/p>\n

I’m not looking to find you
\nLike I would a lost wallet
\nOr a set of keys<\/p>\n

So I don’t want to hear
\nI’m sorry for your loss<\/em><\/p>\n

People used to say
\nAt least now she’s at peace<\/em>
\nBut you never found peace
\nAnd now you’re dead<\/p>\n

\n

More Than a Parent<\/h1>\n

All of my artist friends had conflicted relationships with their parents
\nResented, even hated one or both of them<\/p>\n

Like me
\nAll of them ended up living far away from their families<\/p>\n

But unlike me
\nFew of them participated in their parents’ end of life care
\nFew of them were present during the death of either parent<\/p>\n

You and I frustrated and angered each other at times
\nBut we were more like siblings, even twins
\nThan mother and son<\/p>\n

Raising me, you gave me many of my lifelong passions
\nMuch of what makes me who I am
\nThe joy of music, the arts, literature
\nThe curiosity, wonder and delight in nature<\/p>\n

From the beginning, you set an example
\nOf how to live
\nEating healthy, staying fit<\/p>\n

And after I moved away
\nAnd we pursed our separate lives
\nWe wrote, called, visited often<\/p>\n

Shared almost everything
\nThe loves, the suffering
\nTriumphs, catastrophes
\nKnew each other’s friends, lovers<\/p>\n

You followed my work
\nRemained a tough critic
\nKept me honest<\/p>\n

So it was easier, in the end
\nFor me to see you as a person
\nNot just a parent<\/p>\n

For years, I’d been living mainly for you
\nChoosing my hikes for you, taking pictures for you
\nWriting Dispatches for you<\/p>\n

Now, I didn’t want to keep living
\nBut others kept demanding work from me
\nInformation, paperwork, signatures<\/p>\n

I wondered, when the work is done
\nWho will I live for?
\nI’d had to give up all the routines that kept me healthy and fit
\nNo longer knew who I was doing them for<\/p>\n

I supposed at some point I would start doing creative work again
\nBut couldn’t imagine starting<\/p>\n

I’d always felt at home
\nIn the vast, unpopulated desert basins of the Southwest
\nBut now that I had no one to come back and share my journeys with
\nThey just made me feel alone<\/p>\n

The size of this world overwhelmed me
\nAnd in it there was no one who cared if I lived, died
\nOr disappeared forever<\/p>\n

It was a ruthless world
\nNo place for a man alone<\/p>\n

\"With <\/a>
With Max’s friends, San Francisco 1985 <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"With <\/a>
With sons in San Francisco, 1986 <\/div> <\/div>
\"With <\/a>
With Max’s band on tour in New York, 1987 <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"With <\/a>
With Max’s partner at the Knitting Factory in New York, 1987 <\/div> <\/div>
\"Camping <\/a>
Camping with Max on his land in the desert, 1991 <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"With <\/a>
With Max at Taos Powwow 1994 <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"With <\/a>
With Max & friends, San Francisco 1998 <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"With <\/a>
With Max in Alaska, 2004 <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"With <\/a>
With Max’s mentor in his art studio, southern Indiana 2007 <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Dancing <\/a>
Dancing with Max’s oldest friends, Indianapolis 2008 <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Helping <\/a>
Helping Max recover from surgery in Seattle, 2015 <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"With <\/a>
With Max in New Mexico 2025 <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>\n
\n

Old and Unprepared<\/h1>\n

You wouldn’t talk about dying
\nNever made plans for your care
\nAnd when you needed it
\nI was old, declining myself<\/p>\n

Before our ancestors left the farm
\nBefore careers and cities
\nWhere caring became a commodity
\nTo buy and sell<\/p>\n

Our elders aged at home with family
\nBut we had long given up tradition
\nIn favor of bureaucracy and the consumer markets<\/p>\n

And when I needed to become a caregiver
\nAlone, with no partner, no sibling
\nNo child to share the load<\/p>\n

I had none of the skills
\nBut one thing we’d never given up
\nWas the obligation, the duty to family<\/p>\n

So it wasn’t just my love, our special relationship
\nThat drove me to help
\nBecause I also helped my brother, your injured younger son
\nWho had never been close<\/p>\n

In fact, I’d always dreaded the day
\nThought, I can’t do that, I’ll never do that<\/em><\/p>\n

But when it came
\nI just dropped everything
\nAnd started helping<\/p>\n

I’ve always been a seeker
\nLooking for experience, knowledge, and wisdom
\nIn dark and dangerous places<\/p>\n

And lo and behold, nearing the end of my own life
\nI discovered that helping others
\nFeeding them, changing their diapers, cleaning up accidents
\nIs essential to being human<\/p>\n

If only I’d learned that
\nBefore I became too old and feeble
\nTo do it well!<\/p>\n

\n

My Trials<\/h1>\n

Forced to Leave My Dying Mother’s Side<\/h2>\n

As you were dying
\nIn that home where we had been made to feel unwelcome
\nThere was a shift change
\nThe hostile and indifferent aides arrived
\nI stayed out of their way<\/p>\n

But they didn’t check you for sores
\nTreated you like an object
\nAnd when they turned you
\nThey hurt your shoulder
\nYou moaned<\/p>\n

I mentioned your crippled shoulder
\nAsked them to be careful
\nThanked them as they left<\/p>\n

Shortly Ernestine, the manager who had blamed me for your illness
\nTried for months to separate us
\nCalled and told me I would have to leave<\/p>\n

My presence was making her staff uncomfortable
\nShe said, \u2028If you wanted to be with her when she died\u2028<\/em>
\nYou should’ve kept her at home<\/em><\/p>\n

And back at home
\nLess than an hour later
\nI got the call<\/p>\n

You had lost your struggle<\/p>\n

Without my hand
\nWithout my voice
\nAlone at the end<\/p>\n

I lost the only chance I would ever have<\/p>\n

Your Suffering, My Helplessness & Guilt<\/h2>\n

I’m good at many things
\nUsed to being able to solve problems<\/p>\n

Your suffering broke my heart
\nSo tiny, so afraid, so helpless
\nDesperate to help you, I could not
\nI hounded aides, nurses, doctors<\/p>\n

In rare moments when I could reflect on your life
\nI felt I was punishing you
\nTorturing you instead of caring for you
\nBy leaving you in their hands
\nTo fall alone, injure yourself, cry for help
\nIt will haunt me forever
\nThat I couldn’t stay and care for you<\/p>\n

But worse than any of this
\nWas watching you, hearing you, feeling you die
\nUnlike anyone I’d ever heard of
\nCrying for your parents, your grandfather
\nDrowning, struggling to the end<\/p>\n

Your Neediness, Demands, Manipulation<\/h2>\n

Long-term, this was the hardest on me<\/p>\n

More and more helpless, surrounded by strangers
\nTrusting only me, who could only make short visits
\nWhen I arrived, you overwhelmed me with demands<\/p>\n

And when I needed to leave
\nYou tried different ways to make me stay, and got better at it
\nI always ended up late, out of time
\nUnable to do things I needed to keep myself healthy and fit<\/p>\n

I got angry, I scolded you and left abruptly
\nLeft you with strangers you didn’t trust
\nHating myself<\/p>\n

Mistreatment by Paid Caregivers<\/h2>\n

At the homes I found for you
\nManagement lied to us
\nTried to manipulate us
\nAbused us verbally
\nBlamed me for causing your illness<\/p>\n

I learned the names of the staff
\nAlways arrived with a smile
\nThanked them for their help
\nAsked about their health, their families<\/p>\n

They kept trying to separate us
\nPrevent me from visiting you
\nDespite welcoming the families of others<\/p>\n

You said, No one else can do things as well as you\u2028<\/em>
\nThat’s why they’re angry at you<\/em><\/p>\n

\n

How I Coped<\/h1>\n

Time Balance<\/h2>\n

During the past fifteen months
\nI went from spending up to ten hours every day
\nWith you in hospitals
\nTo visiting for only two hours, twice a week<\/p>\n

I felt I should be with you all the time
\nBut you were so needy, so demanding
\nI fell into depression after each visit
\nTook me a day to recover<\/p>\n

And as your end drew near
\nI was burnt out, spending less time with you
\nJust when I should’ve spent more<\/p>\n

Lifestyle<\/h2>\n

For decades, I’d developed a healthy, self-reliant lifestyle
\nBut flying back and forth to care for you
\nI lost most of this
\nEating at restaurants, sleeping erratically
\nBut where and when I could, I tried<\/p>\n

Joined a gym near your house
\nBought ergonomic furniture
\nFor your bedroom upstairs
\nThat became my office and music studio<\/p>\n

\"In <\/a>
In hotel, luggage I needed to temporarily move back east <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Sun <\/a>
Sun setting as I fly east in December 2024 <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>
\"Your <\/a>
Your bedroom, transformed into live-in office & music studio, January 2025 <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>\n

I’d\u00a0 injured my knee a few months before this started
\nMy shoulder, with a rotator cuff tear
\nWas waking me up at night<\/p>\n

Over the next year
\nBoth injuries went untreated, got worse
\nI exercised when I could, but steadily
\nI lost weight \u2013 muscle mass \u2013 and strength<\/p>\n

As I hiked less, my stress increased
\nAnd I lost cardio capacity<\/p>\n

Helping you required constant heavy lifting
\nIn awkward positions, hurting back and shoulder
\nStress increased sensitivity to pain
\nHeadaches several times a week<\/p>\n

And as my pain increased
\nMy intake of pain meds increased
\nTheir effectiveness decreasing
\nBut I couldn’t have done it without them<\/p>\n

Creative Work<\/h2>\n

Before your demon came
\nSummer before last
\nLeading the ceremony for Katie
\nMy long-lost partner that you loved<\/p>\n

I rediscovered songwriting
\nAfter years of crises, traumas, interruptions<\/p>\n

I always thought I needed an extended period
\nWithout distractions, like weeks<\/p>\n

But after I began caring for you
\nI found I could write, arrange, record tracks
\nIn a half-day or evening, in between
\nCaring for my family<\/p>\n

I brought my travel guitar to Indianapolis
\nBought a mini-keyboard<\/p>\n

\"Writing <\/a>
Writing a new song in your bedroom, December 2024 <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>\n

It was slow getting started
\nBut with practice, I found myself
\nThinking about my work in a parallel track
\nBehind whatever I was doing in the foreground
\nThat made it go faster<\/p>\n

So far, in the past year
\nI’ve written more new songs
\nThan in any year since 1980<\/p>\n

I rediscovered nearly 200 unused lyrics in my files
\nAnd have set many of those to music already<\/p>\n

As I lost the ability to hike
\nThat creative breakthrough is what kept me motivated
\nBecame my reason to live<\/p>\n

I brought my guitar on visits
\nSang and played my new songs for you
\nYou became my best audience<\/p>\n

\n

The Work Ahead<\/h1>\n

What you and I went through
\nIs precious
\nNeeds to become part of my work, my art<\/p>\n

This will take time<\/p>\n

You haunt my house now
\nI have your things, the things you loved
\nThat brought you comfort or surprise
\nThey retain your spirit<\/p>\n

All I want is to leave
\nI don’t know where I am
\nOr where I’m going<\/p>\n

I want to fill my house with your things
\nI’ve started a shrine
\nBut I can’t look at them, they make me cry<\/p>\n

\"With <\/a>
With you at end: Mother’s quilt, teddy and quilt you bought at festival <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div> <\/div>\n

I assume that at some point
\nI will resume the routines that kept me healthy and fit before<\/p>\n

But I can’t do that now<\/p>\n

I have to understand what happened<\/p>\n

You remain inside me
\nAnd all around me
\nYou’ll always be the most important person in my life
\nI’m not trying to move on
\nNot trying to forget or get past what happened<\/p>\n

Hospice, and a local acquaintance who calls herself a death doula
\nOffered to help me with grieving<\/p>\n

But I don’t accept that word “grieving”
\nIt doesn’t describe what you and I went through together
\nAnd who I am in the aftermath<\/p>\n

As a seeker
\nI sought the pain, I needed to experience it
\nThe last thing I want to do is get past it<\/p>\n

My doctor offered an antidepressant
\nBut as an artist, I need to feel the pain
\nSo my work remains honest<\/p>\n

Sooner or later, what I experienced
\nWill come out in my work<\/p>\n

That’s the kind of art I do
\nThat’s what I mean by art<\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

Next: What Are We To Do?<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Previous: Losing Your Struggle More Than a Loss More Than a Parent Old and Unprepared My Trials How I Coped The Work Ahead More Than a Loss When a loved one dies Slowly, in front of us It’s not a loss Like losing our keys or wallet It’s our flesh and blood Dying in front […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[167,9,94],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-29793","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-our-journey-to-the-end","category-stories","category-trouble"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/maxcarmichael.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29793","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/maxcarmichael.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/maxcarmichael.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/maxcarmichael.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/maxcarmichael.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=29793"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/maxcarmichael.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29793\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":30319,"href":"https:\/\/maxcarmichael.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29793\/revisions\/30319"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/maxcarmichael.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=29793"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/maxcarmichael.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=29793"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/maxcarmichael.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=29793"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}