Friday, November 11, 2011
It has been two weeks now since we buried mother. I have my moments of saddness but I can look around me and feel grateful.
The last few years of mother's life she didn't know us ( I have two other sisters My mother would call my younger sister the youngest and me the baby) The first time she didn't know me I came home and cried but I learned as did my sisters that we needed to laugh at most thing she did. For example she was married to my dad for 54 years before he died and mother thought daddy was everything. As she grew worse with her dementia she responded to the men more than the women.
I was in fl. when she turned really bad. Paul and I were to stay until just before Thanksgiving but things changed. The Friday before we left (October 21) I took Oskar out at 3:00 am..Of course there was noone out but the smell of cigar was so strong. My dad smoked cigars and I feel that was his way of reassuring me about mother.
Paul and I left fl that morning and he kept saying I hope I get you there in time. He did. We arrived as 1:00am and my sisters were there. All 3 of us waited for 2 days round the clock On Sunday my sisters went home to take showeres and mother passed. I stayed with her stroking her hai8r and teolig her it would be okay
When we did the visitation (at the church) we had cake, punch and coffee. Mother was big on hospilality and she hafd said when she died she wanted a party-not yea she's gone but a celebr ation. That's what we did. We had the pictures and her bike diplayed. Mother was always riding her bike throughout the community. There were over 200 for her visitation and numerous ones attended her funeral. After the burial we came back to the church for dinner (75) Most of the week was a blur but I believe mother would have been pleased.
I keep thinking of William Wordsworth's poem "Ode imitations to Reflections os Early Childhood" There is a line inthe poem that goes somewhat like Gone is the Splendor in the grass the glory of the flower we will grive not but find strength in what remains behind.
I wouldn't trade my childhood with anyone. I was loved.