My mother died yesterday morning in her sleep at her nursing home in Dallas. Bettye Pierce Zoller, a.k.a. Bettye Seitz. She was a singer and songwriter and teacher. Her life was a constant struggle against undiagnosed mental illness. I hope she had some peace at the end.https://twitter.com/mattzollerseitz/status/1328776434635169798 …
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Here’s a thread about my mom from last fall. A little more information about her life and career, and our relationship.https://twitter.com/mattzollerseitz/status/1328771742672809984 …
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Just finished cleaning out my mothers room at the nursing home with help from my friend Judith. One of the attendants there told us that my mother was well taken care of, particularly after hours, by a guy who worked the night shift. 10 am to 6 pm.
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Apparently he enjoyed spending time with her and was very sweet and affectionate. Called her “mama“ and always ended their conversations by saying “I love you.” She talked to him as if he were her son. I was blown away by this.
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I asked “what is his name? I’d like to thank him.“ She said “Matthew.“ I just about fell over. Judith pointed at me and said “Do you know what his name is? Matthew.“
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I got to meet Matthew later in the day. He offered his sincere condolences to us on my mother’s passing. He said my mom reminded him of his mom and that’s why he liked her so much. I wonder if my mother, in her dementia, somehow came to think that he was me?
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One of the other people who works at the home said that my mom was “a handful“ with everyone on staff — unfortunately I can see that — except for this one employee. She was more lucid in talking to him then others. I’m hoping to learn more about this.
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Of course I feel guilty about not having spent more time with her even though there’s a very good reason why I didn’t – she became increasingly abusive in her old age, and she could be pretty self-centered and oblivious before that.
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I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of “complicated mourning“— that it can be harder to lose somebody that you didn’t have entirely positive feelings about. Or that you were at odds with, or caused you suffering. Maybe all mourning is complicated?
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It was hard going into mom’s room and not seeing her there, but seeing all of these little bags of sugar-free chocolate scattered around. Also finding sugar free chocolate in my own backpack that I brought to give to her, anticipating seeing her again.
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There was an unopened parcel on mom’s bookshelf. I opened it. It was a sampler of sugar-free Russell Stover candy that I had sent her for Easter.
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