Her Final Song: Saying Goodbye to My Mother and Understanding the Final Stage of Alzheimer’s
It’s been a whirlwind over the last 24 hours. I flew from Mexico City to Chicago, then from Chicago to Pittsburgh. I arrived at my mother’s memory care home a little after midnight and was not prepared for what I saw.
She lay still on her back, breathing heavily, her eyes partially open. She could no longer communicate, so I pulled up a chair beside her bed and began reading the final version of Yabbit the Rabbit, the book I had finished just a few days earlier. I held my phone so she might see the character illustrations, though I couldn’t tell whether she was conscious. I like to believe she could still hear my voice and glimpse the world she had inspired.
At around 2 a.m., I checked into my hotel and tried to rest. The next morning, after a shower and a quick breakfast, a message from her hospice nurse arrived: “You should get here as soon as possible.” I rushed back to the care home and called her two best friends from high school. Shortly after I arrived, they joined me at her bedside.
We stood together, reminiscing about their school days, how they had stayed close for more than sixty years, and how much laughter they had shared. I had prepared a small playlist before leaving Mexico City, songs that defined my mother’s youth. “What the World Needs Now” by Dionne Warwick began to play. It was one of her favorites, a song she used to sing in the car when my brother and I were kids.
As we talked, I looked over and noticed she was no longer breathing. I took her hand and realized she had slipped away quietly, listening to her favorite song, surrounded by lifelong friends, and enveloped in love.
Understanding the Final Stage of Alzheimer’s
What I witnessed is heartbreakingly common for families facing the end of Alzheimer’s. According to the Alzheimer’s Association, people in the final stage often:
Lose the ability to speak and communicate verbally
Experience labored or irregular breathing
Become confined to bed or a single resting position
Show little to no awareness of surroundings
May appear to stare into the distance or sleep with eyes partially open
In these last stages, the body begins to slow down. The brain’s signals to muscles, swallowing, and speech fade. Breathing often becomes shallow or uneven, a pattern known as Cheyne-Stokes respiration. Hospice nurses recognize this as a natural part of the body’s process of shutting down.
The National Institute on Aging explains that hearing is often the last sense to go. Even when a person no longer speaks or opens their eyes, they may still perceive familiar voices, music, or comforting sounds. (nia.nih.gov)
That’s why reading Yabbit the Rabbit aloud to her felt important,it gave her voice, rhythm, and story one last time.
How Families Can Find Peace in These Moments
Read or play familiar sounds. Hearing a loved one’s voice or favorite music can ease anxiety and provide calm.
Focus on presence, not conversation. Even silent companionship communicates love.
Bring meaningful comfort items. Photos, soft blankets, or cherished mementos can trigger feelings of safety.
Accept the natural process. Breathing changes, unresponsiveness, and long pauses are normal as the body slows.
Allow yourself to feel both sadness and relief. These emotions can coexist, relief that suffering has ended, grief for what’s been lost.
The Legacy of Yabbit the Rabbit
As I sat beside her, I realized how intertwined our stories had become. Yabbit the Rabbit was born from her imagination, a symbol of courage and persistence. Finishing the book before her passing felt like closing a circle.
In many ways, Yabbit’s journey mirrors what Alzheimer’s teaches families: fear is natural, hesitation is human, but small acts of love and courage, reading aloud, showing up, holding a hand, are what truly matter.
To every family caring for a loved one with dementia: don’t wait to share your stories. Sit beside them, read to them, sing their favorite song. Words and stories can still reach the heart, even when memory fades.
If You Need Support
Alzheimer’s Association 24/7 Helpline: 1-800-272-3900
Family Caregiver Alliance: caregiver.org
National Institute on Aging Resources: nia.nih.gov/health/alzheimers
Closing Reflection
My mother passed peacefully, just as she lived, graceful, creative, and surrounded by love. If you know someone caring for a loved one with Alzheimer’s, share this post with them. Sometimes the greatest comfort we can offer is the reminder that love, memory, and courage remain intertwined, even at the very end.
