Baa Baa Knit Stitch

It has been a week since my mother passed away.

In the end, it wasn’t the dementia or the emphysema that took her; it was a massive stroke that acted quickly.  She didn’t linger (which was her great fear), and thanks to the compassion of an emergency room physician at Redmond Regional, I was able to bring her home before she passed.  She was at home, in her own bed, which is where she had wanted to be.  I promised her I’d keep her in her house, and I’m so thankful that I was able to keep my word.

For those of you following the weather in Georgia… the services became something that I’m sure will be funny when I look back on it. We ended up rescheduling them three times because of the snowstorm (once, I’m proud to say, because unlike most of Georgia government, I took the forecast seriously).  We laid her to rest yesterday with a simple graveside service as she had wished – in reality, it was probably longer than she wanted.  

I am so blessed – even though my remaining extended family couldn’t be there (and frankly, I encouraged them not to travel for such a short service), I was surrounded by my “adopted” family from my church, my mother’s church that I grew up in, close business associates, and other friends who are very special to me. Many of them drove up from Atlanta just to be there for me.  The idea that so many would make such an effort to support me is so overwhelming, and I am so very grateful.

Today I should be at church, but through all this I’ve come down with a raging case of bronchitis, so I’m resting at home so I can work next week.  I owe lots of people W2s and 1099s, but I have some incredibly understanding clients – again, I am so very grateful.

I admit to feeling just a bit lost.  I always joked that I had three full time jobs: my business, my mom, and my church.  I’m down to two (even though I know there’s going to be work to do on Mom’s estate).  I always called Mom three times a day: 8:30 am, around 5 pm, and 7:30 pm.  I find myself reaching for the phone; I know that habit will be hard to break. I wanted to tell her about Penny playing in the snow. I catch myself worrying about what’s going on with her and the caregivers… I’ve been worried about her since December 2001 since Dad died.  I’m adjusting to the fact that particular worry is gone.

I know Mom is whole and happy and with my Dad.  I know I’ll see both of them again one day.  I know both of them are feeding my precious Oscar all the chicken biscuits he wants. And I miss all of them terribly.  But I’ll adjust.