Many people reached out to me when I published my last solo episode, back in early January. In that episode, I shared the struggles I was having as a caregiver, along with my mom's struggles. In this episode, I share the second chapter in that story: detailing what happened after that and some of the lessons I have learned from.

I thank all of you who reached out and offered support after that episode aired.

Thank you again, all of you, who listen every week.

Mentioned in this episode:

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Hello, everyone.

2

This is Cliff DuVernois.

3

I'm your host of Total Michigan.

4

Today, it's just me behind the microphone.

5

I wanna have a conversation with you.

6

I do these solo episodes every now and

then, just sharing what's going on in

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life, but also the struggles that's

happening, things going on with the show.

8

In honor of Mother's Day, I

thought I would update you all on

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what is going on with my mother.

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The last time I spoke on this

topic, it was back in early

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January of this year, 2026.

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The response that I received was touching.

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For all of you who sent emails, reached

out on the socials, even had us in

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your prayers, thank you, and I mean

that from the bottom of my heart.

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For those of you who missed that episode,

I was sharing the struggles I was having

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in 2025 being a caregiver for my mother.

17

At that time, she was 90, almost

blind, had Alzheimer's dementia,

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and if that wasn't bad enough,

she struggled with anxiety.

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When I had last spoke, she was

hospitalized after a really terrible fall.

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We spent that Christmas surrounded by

nurses and all of these beeping machines.

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The director of the facility that

was taking care of her recommended

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to me that we put her on hospice.

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And at that time, I had no idea

what the future was gonna look like.

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You know, as much as we'd like to

think that we're in control, God

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somehow finds a way to remind us that

we're really not, that sometimes the

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winds just don't blow in our favor,

but actually knock us backwards.

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We can't control it.

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We certainly can't stop it.

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And that's where I found myself

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Now, I know that these days people

can be on hospice for years.

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So to say that someone is

on hospice doesn't mean that

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they're gonna die right away.

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They just get better care than

what they were getting before.

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They actually have a dedicated nurse that

comes by and sees them on a regular basis,

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brings any medications you might need.

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You get extra help to take care of your

loved one, to feed them, even bathe them.

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Hospice is truly a godsend.

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But I also understood that

the medical care, the overall

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strategy, was gonna change.

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Instead of fighting to keep her alive, the

focus was now on keeping her comfortable.

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With all the machines, medication, and

medical knowledge out there, it's amazing

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that our bodies can still give out, but

that's just the world that we live in.

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After my mother was discharged

from the hospital, she returned

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to the care facility, which is

Avista I was with her every day.

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Now, before Mom had fallen, each time

the hospital would check her over,

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verify that she didn't have any broken

bones, and they would return her to

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Avista, and everything seemed fine.

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But this time, something was different.

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She wasn't quite the same.

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It's hard to describe.

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It's like that parent intuition,

you know, when something is wrong

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with your child, but you can't

quite place your finger on it.

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I tried to keep my spirits

up when I was there.

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Whenever I would visit with

her, I would pray with her.

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She loved that.

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I'd read the Bible to her.

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She loved that as well.

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And of course, when I got ready to leave,

her anxiety would shoot through the roof.

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Now, the nurses did discover

something quite cute.

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One day I was working

and my phone chirped.

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The nurses sent me a video.

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They were pushing my mom around

in a wheelchair at the facility.

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She had AirPods in her ears, and

she was singing Santa Claus Is

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Coming to Town, but she was calm.

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It was so cute.

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Apparently, music can

calm the savage beast.

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Julie, a woman I've been seeing, was

kind enough to donate an old iPhone.

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I bought her some Bluetooth headphones

with those batteries that last all day

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so Mom could just listen to tunes all

day and stay out of the nurses' hair.

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So this was on a Monday when I took

her headphones and her iPhone in.

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Since Mom is total Team Jesus,

I found some old hymns that

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were played to piano music.

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After all, she had played the

piano for almost 80 years.

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When I put the headphones on

her head, she closed her eyes.

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It was like the music was sweeping

her away to some other place, a better

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place, a place that she longed to go to.

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I sat next to her on the

bed, and I just watched her.

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She looked so peaceful.

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I probably could have left in

that moment, and she wouldn't

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have even noticed, but I stayed.

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And as I watched her get lost in

that music, I couldn't help but to

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feel that something was still off.

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I still didn't know what.

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By that time, the hospice nurse was

coming in to see her almost every day.

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She seemed to think Mom

was doing just fine.

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As the next few days ticked by, I felt

myself going back into my regular routine,

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thinking to myself that I would go back

to visit her three or four times a week.

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I'd have to get back to work, get

the show Total Michigan going again.

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Well, it was Friday of that same week,

and I strolled into her room just thinking

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it was gonna be like every other visit

That's when my jaw hit the ground.

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Mom looked so skinny.

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Her face beat red from

all the violent coughing.

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Her legs shook with every cough.

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The attendant was standing next to

her bed, scared out of her mind.

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They were trying to get her to eat.

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Apparently, Mom hadn't

eaten in the last two days.

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Every time they tried to give her

a bite, she would aspirate it.

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" She's been like that for a couple

days now," the attendant said to me.

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Now I understood what was wrong.

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When you're on the dementia journey,

the mind starts to lose its coordination

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with the muscles that are in the body.

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Even the simple ability of

how to swallow becomes lost.

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Every time that Mom would try to swallow

something, she would aspirate it.

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The coughing was violent

and uncontrollable.

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" What did the hospice nurse say?"

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I asked the attendant.

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She just shrugged her shoulders.

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I grabbed my phone, punched

the number for hospice.

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" Yes, could my mom's nurse please

come and check on her today, please?"

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They told me that the nurse would

be there within a few hours.

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So I sat with Mom, but she

just spent that time coughing.

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She looked absolutely miserable.

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No words came out of her

that day, just coughing.

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After a few hours, I did have to leave.

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Bills still have to be paid, and really,

Mom was surrounded by the best care.

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There were dozen of attendants,

there was nurses, now the

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hospice nurse was on her way.

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I felt that she was in

good hands, so I left.

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Later on that day, I did get

a call from the hospice nurse.

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" She seems fine.

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We'll check on her again tomorrow."

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Tomorrow being Saturday.

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Tomorrow being the day that I

desperately wanted to sleep in.

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I just needed a down day.

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These last six weeks of my

life were just horrendous.

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I was at the ER so much during the

month of December going into January.

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I did not know every night if I

was gonna get another phone call.

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I wasn't sleeping.

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I just needed some downtime.

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I didn't wanna work, didn't wanna travel.

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I just wanted to go catatonic

on the couch, maybe even try

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to watch some TV and relax.

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And that was my Saturday.

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Sunday came.

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As my routine, I didn't plan on visiting

her that day, because I was planning

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to get back to my regular schedule of,

you know, three or four times a week.

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So that'd be Monday, Wednesday,

Friday, sometimes Saturday.

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The pastor at church that morning Had just

taken the pulpit, and he was preaching.

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And he got up there and he

said, "Our lives are just vapor.

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Here one minute, gone the next.

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You can make all the plans that

you want, but none of us know

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if we'll even be here tomorrow."

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I don't know what it was about

those words, but they hit me hard.

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I felt them in my heart.

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And for reasons I can't quite

explain, all I thought about

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was Mom laying in that bed.

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After church, I climbed into my car.

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I was on my way home.

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I was starved.

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I didn't eat anything

for breakfast that day.

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My belly button was

rubbing against my spine.

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When I was about halfway

home, that's when I heard it.

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" Go see her."

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It was almost like a voice or a feeling.

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I stopped at a stop sign,

and I was looking around.

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There's absolutely no traffic.

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" Go see her."

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I shrugged it off, went home.

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I fixed myself some lunch.

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I sat down at the kitchen table, looking

over my notes for this next week, planning

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out what I was going to do and when.

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I looked up, her empty chair

looking back at me from across

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the table, a table we had spent

many days having dinner together.

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I suddenly found myself wanting

to talk with her again, for us

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to have another dinner together.

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" Go see her."

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I got into my car.

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Before long, I was pulling into

the parking lot there at Avista.

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One of the nurses buzzed me in.

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By this point, they all knew who I was.

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I walked down the hallway to her room,

and she was just sitting there peacefully

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on her bed, just looking around the room.

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" Hello there, young lady," I said.

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I sat down next to her, the mattress

groaning underneath of my weight.

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" Yah," she replied.

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" Yah, yah, yah.

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Yah, yah, yah, yah.

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Yah, yah, yah, yah, yah."

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My heart broke.

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The dementia was taking

her ability to speak.

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I remember when my dad lost his ability

to speak, so this wasn't my first rodeo.

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Everything he said was mumbles, and that

was just a few weeks before he passed.

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I knew what this meant,

and I choked down my fear.

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" Is that right?"

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I said to her, pretending to

understand what she just said.

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" Yah," she replied.

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I really wish I could have

understand what she said.

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But the way she acted, that look

that was on her face, she just

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knew that I didn't understand her.

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" I'll be back in just a moment," I said.

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I walked out to the nurse's station.

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" Please call the hospice nurse and tell

them she needs to get here right now."

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That's about as polite as I

could be, but they called.

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I went back to Mom's room.

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In the four hours that it took the

hospice nurse to get there, the only

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word that Mom could say was, "Ya."

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I tried talking with her.

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I told her about the church service

that day and how good it was, how

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the weather outside was so cold,

and she was lucky to be so warm.

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Whatever I could think of to just

throw out there, how much small

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talk you can possibly manufacture.

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But the only thing that I knew

for sure in that moment was

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that I wasn't going to leave.

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At some point, I had the idea, and I

put Mom's headphones back on her head,

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put those hymns back on to the piano,

and all of a sudden she just closed her

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eyes and that music just took her away.

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The hospice nurse walked into the

room and she set her bag down.

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She tried talking to Mom, taking her

vitals, blood pressure, pulse, all

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that other good stuff, temperature.

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The only thing that Mom said was, "Ya."

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After a few minutes, I put the headphones

back onto her head and I asked the

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nurse, " How long do you think she has?"

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" I think your mom has about 72 hours."

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That was the hardest thing

to hear in that moment.

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I thanked the nurse, turned back to Mom,

grateful she had the headphones on so she

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didn't have to hear that conversation.

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I really did think about letting her

keep listening to that music, 'cause she

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just looked so peaceful and so happy.

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But I needed to figure out

what I was going to do.

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How was I gonna handle this?

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How was I gonna get n-

through the next three days?

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I did have some time, I knew that,

not much, and I knew I was gonna

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have to get some rest, even if it

was only for just a couple of hours,

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because I knew that when I came back,

I was not gonna be leaving her side.

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I did take her headphones off.

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Her eyes snapped open.

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Wherever that music had taken her, her,

she was now back into this cold world.

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" Hey, Mom, I'm gonna go get some rest,

but I'll be back in a few hours."

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" Ya, ya."

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As I sat there looking at her, I

knew that this would be the last

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time that I could talk with her.

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What do you say to someone that you love

so much when you know it's gonna be the

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last time That you get to talk to them.

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The only thing I could think of was

just pure gratitude in that moment.

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" Mom, I just wanna say

thank you for everything.

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Everything that you've done for me,

for the love that you've given me,

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and for always believing in me."

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" Ya, ya."

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I placed my head on her frail

shoulder, tears falling down my face.

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Her skinny arms wrapped around me.

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Our last hug.

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After a minute, I sat up,

touched the side of her face.

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" I love you, Mom."

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" Ya, ya, ya."

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Six hours later, I was back.

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By then, she had slipped

into the last stage.

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To see this is truly horrific.

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At this point, her brain couldn't

use the diaphragm anymore

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to control her breathing.

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It now relied on her upper chest

to try to draw air into her lungs.

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At this point, breathing

is almost mechanical.

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Every second, there's a gasp for

air, and her whole body would shake.

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Her face blank.

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There's no response to any sound.

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Saying her name, any words,

just the same blank expression.

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I sat down next to her

bed, holding her hand.

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Her skin felt like rice paper.

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" I love you, Mom."

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No reply.

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And then the tears came.

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Before long, she would be gone.

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By this point, I had texted, called,

DM'd or whatever else, sent up smoke

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signals, just to let as many people

know as possible that if you want to say

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goodbye to Mom, you had better come now.

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The director of the facility

was so sweet, Amanda.

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She set us up in a, a big private

room where we could all be with Mom.

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Everybody could just come and visit.

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Her brothers and sisters who were

struggling with their own, own health

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problems, they came to see her.

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My cousins came, friends came,

the pastor of her church came.

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Friends came.

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At some point in time, the staff

wheeled in this cart that had coffee,

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water, juice, cookies, crackers,

anything that we might need.

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And for the rest of that day, I never

left her side, and as day fell into night,

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I was praying almost constantly Please

God, somehow make this easier for her.

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Just take her so she wouldn't

have to suffer anymore.

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The night nurse stopped by, and

he said, "We're not supposed

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to let family stay overnight."

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But I think he could see by the

look on my face that the term

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visiting hours no longer applied.

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I held her hand.

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It was hard to believe that just a

week ago she was sitting on that bed

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completely just lost in her music and

happy she could listen to her tunes.

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A month earlier, we were sitting at a

table celebrating her 90th birthday with

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her favorite pineapple upside-down cake.

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You think you have all

the time in the world.

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And then God did answer my

prayer, and it happened fast.

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Her breathing changed.

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No longer mechanical, she was now fighting

more to breathe, actually missing breaths.

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Her body would jerk, but no

air would go into her lungs.

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" I love you, Mom," I said one

more time, touching her face.

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She passed away Tuesday afternoon.

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And it's at this point I

do need to take a break.

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Once again, you're

listening to Total Michigan.

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I'm your host, Cliff DuVernois.

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When we come back, I'll be sharing with

you some of the beautiful things that

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has happened since my mother's passed.

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We will see you after the break.

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Hello everyone, and welcome

back to Total Michigan.

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I'm your host, Cliff DuVernois.

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Before the break, I was sharing with

you about the passing of my mother

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and the toll that it had taken on me.

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In the hours after she passed, those

of us that were there in that room,

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we were waiting outside, giving the

nurse some space so she could wash

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Mom's body in preparation for the

funeral home to come and take her away.

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When the nurse was done,

I came back to Mom's room.

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I sat on her bed, and in that

moment, I just didn't want her to be

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alone, so I was gonna stay with her.

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I looked at her face, blank,

expressionless, no longer moving.

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And in that moment, I had nothing left.

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I was empty.

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I had cried all the tears

that I possibly could.

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I was beyond numb inside.

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And that's when I heard it.

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From somewhere inside of me,

something said, "Why do you

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seek the living among the dead?"

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Passage of scripture from Luke 24:5.

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I can't tell you if it was the same

voice that I heard that told me

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to go see Mom, but I can tell you

that it did give me some comfort.

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In my heart, I knew that she was okay.

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She was in heaven, hugging all of her

family that had passed on before her.

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My brother Wayne, my

sisters, hugging my dad.

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She was experiencing a joy

that I could not even fathom.

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I really wish I could explain it,

but somehow it brought me peace.

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Not joy, not happiness, but peace.

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Like I could be okay with the

fact that she was now gone, and

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that one day I would see her again

when God chooses to call me home.

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I thought about holding off Mom's

funeral until the weather got better.

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But to be frank, I really

wanted all this to be done.

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Having Mom's funeral hanging over my head

for months on end would drive me crazy.

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I'd be constantly thinking about it.

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So I planned it, went ahead with it,

even though at that time, the average

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temperature was like 10 degrees.

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Mom's funeral was beautiful,

but it is too bad it was cold.

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Family from across the

country had sent flowers.

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It was beautiful.

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People also gave money,

which was super sweet.

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Over $600 was raised- I donated that

money to the county's hot meals program.

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For years, they delivered hot meals to

my parents so that way they could eat.

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I met with the pastor

prior to the service.

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Mom played the piano for that church for

years, and then back in the '90s, she

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recorded a CD full of old church hymns.

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The church used that CD as a

fundraiser to help fix the roof.

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When the pastor asked me if I wanted

anything special for the funeral,

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the only thing that I could think

of was to play her music on the

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speakers once again for a church that

she loved and a gift that she had.

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I mean, what could be more fitting

than to have her playing her

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favorite music at her funeral?

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On the day of the funeral,

I sat down in the pew.

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My mind floated back to that day when

we actually first came to that church.

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I wasn't even five years old.

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When the pastor of the church

at that time learned that my mom

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could play the piano, he didn't

even hesitate to ask her to play.

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The fledgling church needed a

pianist, somebody to play hymnals,

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and of course, my mom said yes.

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Almost three decades later, three pastors

later, she would finally step down.

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Knowing my mom, she told the

fat- pastor at that time that

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she didn't want any big fanfare.

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"Don't do anything special."

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She just would wanna slip

quietly into piano retirement,

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if there is such a thing.

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Of course, the pastor didn't listen.

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He called her up in front of the

congregation, thanked her for her decades

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of service, and presented her with

a dozen roses just to say thank you.

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The congregation jumped to their feet.

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The applause thundered.

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My mind snapped back to the present.

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The pastor was up there on the pulpit

talking about something or another.

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I can't remember what.

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Somehow I managed to make it through

that service, but it was hard.

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In the days, weeks, months to

follow, it continued to be hard.

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Of course, she's my mother.

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Her death would hit me hard, but I

was also her caregiver for years.

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So much of my life had

revolved around her.

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Every morning, I would wake up and

think, "I gotta go visit Mom," only to

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have to remind myself that she was gone.

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I sat in the living room.

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My eyes looked down the hallway, expecting

to see her walking towards me like she

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did thousands of times, her feet sliding

across the carpet, not making a sound.

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Some days I couldn't even

function The grief rained down

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on me, soaking me to the core.

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Even trying to watch TV was a challenge.

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People were always checking in on

me, and I am so grateful for that.

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They were just making sure that I

was okay, if I needed anything, if

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I needed any groceries, any food.

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I really appreciated that.

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I'm grateful for Julie, who stood

by me every step of the way.

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Sandra, my sister-in-law, who

helped take care of my mom.

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I cannot tell you what an

angel she was to my family.

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Every time that that grief would

come on, I didn't try to fight it.

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I didn't try to snap myself out of it.

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Never once did I try to drown my

sorrows or try to medicate myself.

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I just felt it.

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I let the grief come.

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It is okay to hurt.

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It is okay to grieve.

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It's just part of life, something

I learned when my dad passed away.

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Of course, every now and then,

someone would say to me, "Oh,

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Cliff, you should be excited.

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Your mom's with Jesus."

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And I would be, but I also missed

her, and every time somebody would

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say that, it just made me feel like

they were dismissing my feelings,

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like somehow my grief didn't matter.

404

Of course, then people were telling me how

I should grieve, what I should be feeling.

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Some even put a time limit on

it, like for some reason it was

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taking too long to get over it.

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"A month is just fine, Cliff.

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You should be over it by now."

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All of those people I

wound up pushing away.

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I know full well that I'm not the

first person to have lost a parent,

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but I also know full well that

everyone handles grief differently.

412

Some people can ache for

short periods of time.

413

Other people ache for years.

414

Some bounce back quickly.

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Others bury their head in a bottle.

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For me, I'm living in a house that's

surrounded by nothing of reminders

417

about my mom and my dad, pictures,

knick-knacks, clothing, trophies.

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Everywhere I look in this house, I

see her, especially the piano that she

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used to sit at and play all the time.

420

Half of me thinks when I pull into

the driveway that I should hear

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piano music playing, but I never do.

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I also admit, too, thinking about her

in heaven does make me feel better.

423

At some level, I think that's

actually helped me to heal, to be

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able to handle the situation better.

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And now I am moving forward, getting back

into life, doing what I love to do, and

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somehow I feel that God's called me to

do this, and that's talking with you.

427

As I was putting together my notes

for this episode, I thought back to a

428

conversation that I had with my mom, a

story that I would like to share with you.

429

I was seven years old at the time.

430

A few years prior to that,

my father had passed away.

431

It was just Mom and me.

432

It was on a Sunday morning.

433

My mom drove her brand-new beige

Malibu down the snow-covered

434

roads of Genesee County.

435

I stared out the window

from the passenger seat.

436

Our destination was that old

country church that Mom played

437

the piano at every Sunday.

438

No matter how brutal the weather,

how much snow that we got, ice

439

that we got, lightning that was

coming down and striking everything

440

in sight, Mom didn't care.

441

We were at church.

442

Being seven years old, at that

time I had just learned that Mom

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wasn't being paid to play the piano.

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" Hey, Mom," I asked, " why do

you play the piano for free?

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You're actually quite good at it."

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At least, I thought she was.

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And Mom smiled.

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" You know, when God gives you a gift,

you should share it with others.

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I know that when I'm playing, somebody

might have had a really tough week.

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They're coming to church

looking to be uplifted.

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So if playing someone can help them

feel closer to God, to maybe help

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them feel a little bit uplifted,

then that's what I'm going to do.

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God has given me this gift,

and I'm going to share it."

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I really didn't understand it at

the time, but I do now, 'cause I

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find myself in a similar situation.

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When I seek out people to be on this show,

the number one question that they ask

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me, "How much is it going to cost me?"

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" No charge," I reply, "Just

a little bit of your time."

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" You do this for free?"

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Every time that they say

that to me, I just smile.

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I think back to my mom playing

on that old piano in that old

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country church every single Sunday.

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For all of my listeners out there, I

hope this shows you how much this show

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actually means to me, how I'm able

to bless people with my skills and my

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talents, not charge them for it, because

God certainly blesses me in other ways.

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From time to time, I'm gonna pause

the episodes, and I'm gonna do one

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of these solo episodes just to have

a conversation with you, between you

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and I, to share about life, what's

going on, and what's coming up.

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in trying to find a way to close

out this episode, I thought I would

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actually step back from the microphone,

and I'm gonna let Mom take center

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stage This is one of the hymns that

she recorded from a long time ago.

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A hymn she played hundreds of times

in that old country church to touch

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us who might have been hurting.

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Ladies and gentlemen, here is my mother,

Leona Schmitter, playing He Is Lord.

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Happy Mother's Day, Mom