I helped to take care of my dad, the last weeks of his life. There were no hospices, then, and very little was known about cancer and other terminal diseases. I spent nights caring for him while my mother took the day shift. I was 17.
To this day, I have never grieved for him. At least, not a grieving that I recognize as such. But I miss him, even after all these years. Hang in there, honey. Everything will work out like it’s supposed to.
Yes, all’s well that ends, as your late mother so wisely observed.
I’ve been thinking, since I got home, that maybe I should take the CNA course. Then I could spend my days doing everything for people who can’t take care of themselves, as opposed to doing everything for people who are perfectly capable of taking care of themselves, but won’t.