I lost my mother to cancer about a month ago. They believed she had pneumonia, which turned out to be the cancer spreading into her lungs. She became ventilator-dependant, and asked me to end her life support if she did not improve. We waited a while, worked with her doctor and a family member who is a doctor to do all we could before making that decision. I was able to visit her and be with her in person as they removed the life support. I'm orphaned at 27. I know it shouldn't feel this way, but I have so much guilt over not staying in the room with her until she passed. I was with her a long time while she was on the ventilator and for a while after it was removed, and that was when it got very hard. I held my composure for a long time, but the way she was was so painful for me to endure. I didn't want to be a sobbing, panicking mess in there when I intended to be supportive and guiding, so I stepped out for a break. I immediately broke down and rushed out of the hospital to my family (in COVID time, they only allowed one of us up at a time. everyone waited outside of the hospital). Her brother replaced me and stayed with her until she passed. I kept going back and forth on my choice to leave the room until I no longer had the opportunity to go back up. Even though I've cared for her for so long, I feel like I "failed" at this. For her safety I had to ask that people stop visiting and limit her person-to-person contact in mid-March. Our home health aide and myself became the primary caretakers. I have a full-time job and did not live at home with her; she didn't decline in health much until recently, so the plan was to finish out my current lease and then move back in. My parents and I cared for my grandmother through a painful and protracted course of dementia for nearly 10 years when I was younger. I saw the toll it took on them, and knew how much it had hurt me to be in that proximity. I thought I had found a good medium for myself in taking care of mom. Be there with her in person on the weekends to do full 24/7 caretaking, facetime, phone calls, and texting all the time otherwise. And yet I still feel so robbed of time with her, and angry at myself for not having the stamina to do everything or the money to quit my job and be with her more. I don't know what I'm hoping to gain by sharing all this. I know I did the best I could, and I desperately try to believe her friends and siblings when they say that I was good to her.