Momming My Mom For The Last Time

The Other Day, When I took My Mom To An Appointment
Today it rained here, and I was ready to curse the heavens. You betcha I would let the rain gods know: Great! I’d scream up to the clouds. Bad weather, too, after all I’ve done to get her to the carrrrrrghh?!? But then, the rain stopped, just before we went outside. Shit, I thought. The gods mock me…

To get Mom into the car these days, I drive up a winding, paved path between the apartment buildings and up to the back door to her building. I have permission to do this; it’s usually a walking path, also used by the maintenance guy to drive equipment and stuff up to the building’s garbage/recycling room and such. Thank heavens my car has a rear-view camera with graphics that help you stay on the path! I’ve already wheeled Mom down to that back door. Now, to get her and the wheelchair into the car. It takes some muscle, sweat, and a lot of under-the-breath swearing.

I wrote those two paragraphs a couple of weeks ago. Now, she is gone. She died over a week ago, and I’m wading through the weirdest set of feelings, realizing that it’s gonna take a while to untangle, grieve, heal. In the meantime, there have been the necessary arranging of funerals, announcing the news, et cetera. I’m just too tired to type it all here. My main reason to write today resulted from me impulsively buying a book: The Grief Club, by Melody Beattie. I love and need this book.

The first M. Beattie book I read was The Language of Letting Go. I slept with that book, my arms wrapped around it, at one of the toughest times of my life. Here’s a link to that post:

That’s it for now. Time to do more of the post-death arrangements. I’ll be back here soon.

Thanks for reading.

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