Kimberly R. Mooney, 59, of Logansport, embraced eternal peace on Thursday, December 26, 2024, at Wellbrooke of Kokomo, joining her beloved husband of 14 years, Michael Mooney, who preceded her in death just weeks before on November 8, 2024. Born May 17, 1965, to Robert and Elizabeth (Lank) Fisher, Kimberly’s journey was marked by an unwavering spirit and boundless compassion that touched countless lives.
A 1983 graduate of Frankfort High School, Kimberly forged her path as a successful entrepreneur and property manager, demonstrating both business acumen and leadership in her professional life. Yet it was her personal pursuits that truly revealed the depth of her character. She found joy in life’s simple pleasures – tending to her gardens, lifting her voice in song, losing herself in the pages of a good book, and embracing the serenity of nature among her beloved flowers.
Kimberly’s greatest legacy lies in the magnitude of her heart. Throughout her life, she opened her home and heart to many children through adoption, giving them the gift of family and unconditional love. Her compassion extended to animals as well, as she provided sanctuary to numerous rescued pets over the years. Even in the face of illness, Kimberly remained true to herself, approaching life with fierce determination and unwavering authenticity, always dancing to the rhythm of her own unique melody.
She leaves behind a tapestry of love woven through her surviving family: her children, Ross Fisher of Peru, Keva Mooney of Logansport, and Jade Mooney of Logansport; her stepchildren, Daniel Mooney, Bayli (Carter) Llewellyn, and Brandy (Emily) Komos; her half-sister, Patty Parker; and her beloved grandchildren, Lola Fisher, Amelia Llewellyn, Judah Llewellyn, and Nora Komos. She was preceded in death by her husband, Michael Mooney, her parents, and a brother.
Kimberly’s spirit lives on in the hearts of those who knew her, in every flower that blooms in her garden, and in the countless lives she touched with her generosity and love. Her legacy reminds us that life’s greatest purpose lies not in the length of our days, but in the depth of our impact on others.
As much as it saddens me to be forced to stop writing, I’m afraid that I’ll need to cease all online participation of social media and other online avenues at this time.
This was unpublished and in my drafts from December 5th, 2024
Hey Mom,
Sorry things flew off the rails last night, it’s been an impossible situation for quite some time now. What do you do when your mom’s doctor calls you and scares the heck out of you? Hopefully you can save and read this if someday you come back into your full self again. I’m hoping you beat this and do.
I just wanted to clear the air and put the past behind me. I do find myself incredibly hurt though, and it’s going to take time to work through that.
I never agreed or promised to leave Kasey, quit my job and move into your bedroom though and I’m not sure where that is coming from. What I’ve said this time around since you’ve been in the hospital is that I would consider it if you got in-home help, or went to rehab for a bit. I can’t do it alone and it didn’t work the two other times both Kasey and I moved there, how are things any different this time?
It’s been 9 times now and when the doctor says there won’t be a next time… I’m sorry but I can’t sweep it under the rug and pretend everything is happy and good, not when there’s a very real possibility of another funeral by Christmas.
And I know it makes you angry if people in your life don’t smile and pretend everything is okay, I get it, it’s scary. I’ve had night terrors for years knowing I’ll die someday but I can’t be anything but who I am, and that person is soft, and loving, and sensitive – I’m someone who cares about his mom and it’s you’re about the only family left, wouldn’t you be scared? Weren’t you scared of losing Betty and Kenny?
But I can’t seem to do anything but make things worse, so I’ve excused myself for my own well-being right now as I’m not okay, and I don’t have the person I usually call when the world isn’t right as she is no longer there right now.
My dad said that his mom and dad were very mean, and it was very confusing for years before they passed away, it’s been helpful talking to him through this. It’s hard not to take the nasty and mean things you keep saying to me to heart when I’ve done nothing wrong and have been very open, honest, and the most helpful that I could be.
I think you’d be proud of me though, and maybe you will be someday as I’ve had no other motive or plan than to just make sure you are healthy and happy. I’m sorry mom, but I can’t and won’t jeopardize my life, my career, and relationship and destroy myself to just keep doing the same things over and over and over again that leads to you just being back in ICU. Mike didn’t know when to step away and I can’t end up like him in the yard.
Things would be different and I would consider moving back home if there was any real meaningful change and listened to even just a little bit of what your doctors are telling you.
I really do hope, and pray that you recover and some day I can talk to my mom again. What I do know for certain, is that I tried everything that I could do and went further, and with more effort than I would have for anyone.
For that, I hope you know that I love you mom, forever, and for all time.
Considering my blog may get subpoena’d anyway, and the fact that nothing here is other than what I believe to be true at the time written, I’ve decided to bring it back as it was.
I’ll continue writing, but privately and one day when this is all over, I’ll publish it all here.
Maybe it’ll help someone going through the same thing in the future and I get to keep writing in the meantime, win/win.
Edit: I later found out that the person written about here ended up being a good friend and ally of the family, thank you for saving my mom’s life, and sorry for the suspicion and apprehension we treated you with.
I wish I didn’t have to write this, but I need to express the emotional weight of a situation that has added enormous stress during an already painful time.
There is a person who became involved in my mother’s care after she became gravely ill, as best I can recall. Earlier today, based on a call I had with my great aunt, it’s my understanding that during a recent hospital visit, this individual’s presence did not feel supportive or calming—especially given the hospital’s restrictions and the seriousness of my mother’s condition.
From what I’ve gathered through conversations with the hospital staff, I’m under the impression that this person’s behavior may have disrupted what my mother needs most right now: peace, comfort, and clear communication with her family. I find myself unsure why someone outside our immediate family would engage in actions that, to me, appear to create distance between my mother and her closest relatives, especially at a time when we need each other’s understanding and compassion.
In my personal view, this individual’s manner has felt manipulative, and interactions have not seemed constructive. I have perceived behaviors that, from my perspective, make it harder to trust their intentions. As a result, I feel that my mother has become more isolated from her children during a time when we should be united around her.
One specific event I can recount occurred during my last visit I may ever have with my mother: while this individual was on speakerphone, I heard them suggest that my mother ask me to leave. Experiencing that firsthand was painful and intensified my concerns about their influence.
My family’s only priority is my mother’s dignity, care, and comfort in her final days. I sincerely hope everyone involved will approach this situation with empathy and respect.
Although there’s much more I could say, this individual has threatened legal action, claiming my words might constitute “slander.” While this isn’t my main focus at such a distressing time, it has made me cautious about how I share my feelings. That added pressure weighs on me during a period already defined by loss and heartache.
To those who have offered their love and kindness, thank you. Your support provides a measure of comfort when it’s needed most.
I’ve been using my blog and social media as a space to share my raw emotions and personal challenges, giving myself permission to be honest, vulnerable, and unpolished. It’s about recognizing the power of perspective, even when confronting the most painful parts of life.
To those who’ve joined recently and might not know the full context—my family has been facing deep struggles since June—I realize some of my recent posts may have seemed harsh. In context, my little sister woke up to find her father in the lawn just a few weeks ago after a suicide, and the doctors told me last week my mother may not make it past Christmas.
It’s a hell of a thing that I don’t know how anyone would approach or process, and then you sprinkle in my mother’s confusion and paranoia, which often leads to her lashing out at those closest to her and it’s been an impossible situation for half a year now.
There’s a wide range of perspectives from a wide range of people, but one thing is an absolute fact; the police, EMTs, hospitals all know us by name and know it’s time for mom to re-visit the ICU when they start receiving panicked calls and weird accusations from mom, as she is back, again, for the 10th time now.
I pray that she will listen to her doctors and actually go to rehab this time, like all of us kids, and Mike tried repeatedly so she has a shot at recovery and we finally break this loop, as it’s very obviously not working.
I started inpatient yesterday, not that I’m particularly actively suicidal or have suicidal ideation, just that I’ve made so much progress with my agoraphobia and don’t want to wake up trapped in my home again, seemingly unable to walk out into the front lawn to collect my mail as I was during the pandemic.
I need the extra support right now due to the extreme stress myself, and the family is under and I’m so incredibly emotionally drained.
It’s been a decent enough day. I’m happy to share that we submitted an application for an apartment in Colorado with a tentative move date of February. It’ll be a big change moving out of Indiana and moving across the country, but we will be moving close to someone we love and a breath of fresh air is sorely needed on all fronts.
I almost don’t want to write about this evening’s events as it feels like a bad dream, but mom and I talked; we had a nice enough conversation. I sung Peter Cottontail and Rudolf the Red Nose Reindeer to her, she sang along. She had me write some really strange letter, which I’ll include below:
She dictated the letter to me and what to say. Functionally, it doesn’t mean anything, no one has ever invoked POA or Medical Directive in this situation and no one has ever prevented her from coming home, obviously.
What is concerning that apparently her estate attorney dropped her due to ethical concerns. I’m not sure exactly what transpired there, and honestly, I’d rather not know.
And what is further concerning is whatever insane rant mom started texting me about being in her emails right after her phone call, after telling me how everything was “forgiven and okay now”?
I was instructed to access Mike’s emails to collect information soon after his death by mom, such as Amerigas for their home propane, AT&T for their wireless bill, information about Mike’s Mom for his sister so she is taken care of. I’m sorry, but I’m really not interested in whatever he had in his email inbox, although I’m sure there’s some cringeworthy boomer humor in there somewhere.
No, what actually happened is that her attorney added her to an existing email thread I had with him discussing what needed to occur with probate and my previous efforts trying to stay on top of legal obligations as Mike’s executor is unable to, or unwilling to execute his will. Not that anyone would benefit from that other than mom as she inherits all of his assets. Somehow, my mother considered that redirecting her emails or being in her emails?
Whatever the causality, she did say I was no longer her son and to never contact her again, which hurt, but this is just how things go with mom these days.
EDIT LMAO IT GETS SO MUCH WORSE TODAY
Jade called me this morning and mom is at the police station trying to press charges against her for giving her the “wrong meds” paramedics were also apparently out there last night and confirmed they had the correct meds. What did I write yesterday about mom trying to kill herself by only taking Vitamin C?I… can’t make this up.
I suppose the difference today is that I’ve just come to expect it and I can put my renewed tools such as the inpatient session last night, “Make the best out of a bad situation” to work.
I’ve also been diving back into Tao philosophy lately, two of my current faves
But it’s nice knowing there’s light at the end of the tunnel. Work is very busy, but I seem to be doing well (somehow, like damn), we are redecorating our home to have a safe, comfortable place to be in, and we have the move to look forward to, reset our lives in some way.
Imagine waking up to this view every morning, it doesn’t seem real
Got a frantic phone call this morning, apparently mom was at the police department going on about how her family is poisoning her as she doesn’t want to take her antibiotics and kidney medication. To be clear, not that anyone has been forcing her or otherwise doing anything other than filling her pill organizer with the exacting medication and dosages from the list the hospital provided.
She was in the ICU a few times by now with sepsis due to this exact thing, and it’s not the first time the police have been called out to the house by any means.
The paramedics were apparently at the house last night and verified the correct dosages and medications.
The situation has devolved into such a poor state that anyone who tries to caretake for mom could very well end up on the receiving end of a false police report, which makes it unwise to be in contact with her for fear of their own legal well being.
I’m personally concerned that I may be targeted due to my refusal to move home and mom’s insane rants about how terrible of a person I am for not doing so. It’s not that I don’t want to be there, I want to help mom.
I’m just not sure what else I could possibly communicate on this blog, or otherwise that doing so is not safe. Not for the abuse and name calling she dishes out, for the history of false police reports and insane rants about the government monitoring her, and the flying monkeys of people mom enlists who are financially motivated as she is loud about having money and actively demonizes her husband, children in her life.
There are genuinely good people out there reaching out, trying to help, thank you. It’s an impossible situation and my deepest apologies for not being as controlled and stoic about the situation in the pages of my blog as I could have been. Mike committed suicide, mom had her first melt down at my house and after several hours of insane rambling, the police carried her kicking and screaming out of my front door. Mom becomes very paranoid about people “keeping her in the hospital” and the insane rants and suspicion is shared widely.
If you think this specific situation is insane, it’s been what Mike, Jade and the family have been dealing with semi-privately for months now, and why Mike committed suicide.
It’s been a nightmare.
This is the.. 10th time I believe she’s been in the hospital. I’m questioning to myself, how does it get worse from here, and, how many days until she’s back home again doing the same thing?
Edit: going through previous posts to review, look at what I found from August?
Edit: and yet another one
annnddd another from July.
Just to be clear, I later learned that Mike indeed did the best he possibly could and he did try to keep her in the hospital past a certain point, the issue is that the hospital can’t, and it makes sense, even if it’s not ideal.
If someone is conscious and able to tell what day it is, the hospital deems them of sound mind, even if they warn the patient and family members they will die if released and return home to do the same things again. The only time a POA or Medical Directive can take effect is that if the patient is on a ventilator or otherwise completely incapacitated.
There is something called emergency guardianship, and I think it’s time to approach that just to ensure that she goes to rehab or a nursing home for a week or two to get stable, instead of in and out of the ICU every week, or like Dr. Mohammad said, she may not make it until Christmas
Kasey and I went over; it was time for us to collect our things out of the garage from the last time we stayed there. I don’t really know where to start or how to move forward, and I know I’m feeling very emotional right now. So, warning, dear reader—shield your children’s eyes.
No one wants to get a call from their mother’s doctor saying she’ll be gone in a few weeks if she keeps doing the same things over and over. She’s been hospitalized nine times now, many of which were completely preventable. And not preventable like “don’t smoke or you’ll get cancer,” but deliberate, very unwise, specific things like not taking antibiotics when she has sepsis.
Or not regulating sodium intake properly, an issue since September, which directly impacts memory and cognition. Or starving herself and consuming so much liquid that her kidneys now only function at about 17%, pushing her close to kidney failure.
Mike is gone, in large part because of her. Yes, he had his own issues—back pain, depression—but she pushed him over the edge. Imagine your wife retiring and making travel plans, only for everything to turn upside down: getting screamed at, having things thrown at you, the police called, threats of divorce, and more for months on end. All while trying to ensure she takes her medication so she doesn’t die, cleaning her wound so it doesn’t get infected, or trying to get her into rehab because the doctors say she’s going to die if she keeps doing the same harmful things over and over again. Mike tried so hard to keep her alive, yet she made him out to be some kind of monster. I honestly understand why he felt so hopeless. I wish he had just packed up and gone to California like he said he would, anything other than suicide.
You didn’t deserve any of this, Mike.
And I’m sorry that our deeply flawed medical system didn’t allow you to properly care for her. Not your fault.
Like I said the first time Kasey and I left, I’m not open to being called names, screamed at in front of everyone, or made out to be a terrible person because I don’t jeopardize my life, quit my job, and endure abuse. Especially when I’m expected to just go along with her belief that antibiotics are poison, that the government is spying on her through Bluetooth, and all the rest of it. I don’t care if it’s my mom, and I guess I don’t care if she’s dying—no one gets a free pass to openly abuse others, especially when they’re trying to help.
And what’s the point, anyway, when any help one might give is literally helping her harm herself? Tonight’s disagreement started because I refused to hand her the pill bottles after she claimed “Jade messed up her meds” and went off on some unrelated rant about not having a POA. I refused to hand them over because I’m not going to assist her in taking just “Vitamin C” as ordered by “cancer doctor,” or indulge the idea that “sodium causes high blood pressure” in this context. It’s all nonsense.
I’m stammering here because my next instinct is to defend myself—to say that I do care, I’m scared, and I don’t want my mom to die. I even woke up with night terrors, dreaming she was dead. But this situation has been so uniquely awful, so extreme, that frustration and anger drown out everything else.
Kasey and I took our RV over there for a single night in August. We lasted one night. I work remotely, a 9-to-5, and my job was already unstable due to layoffs. I stayed up until 1 a.m. trying to convince her to take her antibiotic. It took hours of dealing with rambling nonsense. I finally got to bed around 2 or 3 a.m. Exhausted at work the next day, I got woken up at 8 a.m. and brought into the house, Kasey too, to be screamed at that we weren’t doing enough. Both Mom and Mike yelling, going on and on. We lasted one night.
Kasey rightfully walked out, and I was right behind her. Kasey isn’t even part of this, and no one gets to scream at my partner, period. I lost that job soon after.
But it just goes on and on. I don’t have the energy to detail every awful and abusive thing. Mom has this narrative that everyone treats her like a “child,” and she demonizes anyone who doesn’t want to help her destroy herself. Mike is gone because he wouldn’t just pretend everything was fine while she refused to help herself. My sister walked in from collecting her father’s ashes and was berated for not magically having Mom’s breakfast ready before work. It’s all just beyond understanding—awful, sad, and infuriating.
And I’m done. I said my goodbyes, and this is what I’m forced to remember her as: a harmful, confused person who likely doesn’t even know what’s going on. Meanwhile, others circle around, willing to agree with her so they can get what they want, or a handout as they need the money.
We’ve got probate, Mike’s estate, business matters, in-home aide options that I spent days researching. But I’m a liar, I’m useless, and she already wrote me off after I left the first time. Fine. Good luck, then. Thanks for calling the attorney to tell him not to talk to me, because I’m apparently such an awful person.
Maybe I need to be the “bastard son,” because I’d much rather deal with that than live knowing I helped my mother end her own life.
