These days
Mom is hanging in. I got to spend several days last week with her, and it was like gold.
Every day is different. She runs fevers most recently, and we're unsure if she's battling (and recovering) from viruses or something else. Her hair is a short buzz of grey; it's quite appealing if you ask me. Hours spin around naps, eating and drinking her G2 for hydration.Who ever put so much weight (no pun intended) into appetite? I do.
Lots of people from the past and pockets of life are emerging and coming by to tell mom who she is for them. She loves that (in short doses). Visitors walk in day and night. Volunteers drop off food. We discuss what to make for lunch and dinner. We discuss grocery lists. We talk so much about food, it's no wonder our lives revolve around it. We feed the squirrels in the backyard. We plan a quick drive for an ice cream cone. We let her wander back to bed and try to walk and talk quietly around the house so she can drowse. We lock ourselves in the basement around the giant round table and do 3-year old art. We read the paper and I am sent out to get the sweet deals at the grocery store or somewhere else. We do puzzle after puzzle. We stay in pajamas all day. We sit near her bed or perch on the sofas and talk and watch.
Hospice continues to visit during the week and we have a treasure in our family and friends, who have constructed a 24-hour schedule so mom is never alone.
She kept us late on Sunday and wouldn't let Ginger and I return home in a snowstorm. We opted to drive home Monday morning. It left us with a bit of time to descend downstairs and watch the Oscars, commenting on fashion and who still looks great in Hollywood. We debated Jared Leto's long hair and I reminded both my parents how I devoured his most famous short-lived TV show as a high schooler (um, and as an adult). She didn't approve.
We talked about New York, a place we have great, robust memories of -- a place she navigated better than I, a long-time resident, and where mom walked freely and understood and valued its beauty. She's still feisty, my mom, unabashedly sharing her thoughts and dismissing most of the hullabaloo we let entertainment and our lives be. It was nice.
Every day is different. She runs fevers most recently, and we're unsure if she's battling (and recovering) from viruses or something else. Her hair is a short buzz of grey; it's quite appealing if you ask me. Hours spin around naps, eating and drinking her G2 for hydration.Who ever put so much weight (no pun intended) into appetite? I do.
Lots of people from the past and pockets of life are emerging and coming by to tell mom who she is for them. She loves that (in short doses). Visitors walk in day and night. Volunteers drop off food. We discuss what to make for lunch and dinner. We discuss grocery lists. We talk so much about food, it's no wonder our lives revolve around it. We feed the squirrels in the backyard. We plan a quick drive for an ice cream cone. We let her wander back to bed and try to walk and talk quietly around the house so she can drowse. We lock ourselves in the basement around the giant round table and do 3-year old art. We read the paper and I am sent out to get the sweet deals at the grocery store or somewhere else. We do puzzle after puzzle. We stay in pajamas all day. We sit near her bed or perch on the sofas and talk and watch.
Hospice continues to visit during the week and we have a treasure in our family and friends, who have constructed a 24-hour schedule so mom is never alone.
She kept us late on Sunday and wouldn't let Ginger and I return home in a snowstorm. We opted to drive home Monday morning. It left us with a bit of time to descend downstairs and watch the Oscars, commenting on fashion and who still looks great in Hollywood. We debated Jared Leto's long hair and I reminded both my parents how I devoured his most famous short-lived TV show as a high schooler (um, and as an adult). She didn't approve.
We talked about New York, a place we have great, robust memories of -- a place she navigated better than I, a long-time resident, and where mom walked freely and understood and valued its beauty. She's still feisty, my mom, unabashedly sharing her thoughts and dismissing most of the hullabaloo we let entertainment and our lives be. It was nice.
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