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Showing posts from April, 2016

Six days

My mother could really drive me crazy. As she got older, I found myself having to tell her fewer and fewer details of my life. For example, she had no idea that I was a blogger or a podcaster. Both of these facts would have made her cringe. She was a very private person. If she knew I had blogger or podcasted about her specifically, there would have been hell to pay. I also told her fewer details of the lives of my children because she seemed to have a PhD in worrying. She could take any situation and find the danger. So, I started leaving her out of big things. The kids went on trips she never heard about. One played sports I never told her about. In order to keep the peace and maintain the relationship, I was sharing less and less. Of course, I told myself all of this would stop once she was better. Even with all of the stuff we never discussed, I still find myself, six days after her passing, finding things I typically would have shared with her and feeling a void because I cannot. I…

An appreciation: Doris Roberts

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Don’t let a suitcase filled with cheese be your big fork and spoon. Doris Roberts leaves behind a legacy of comedy. It feels like she was on television every step of the way as I grew up, first on “Angie” and then on “Remington Steele” and finally on “Everybody Loves Raymond” and she popped up on all sorts of shows and movies in between. She was everywhere and no wonder – she could do anything. I think great television writers get to write great television parts when they are lucky enough to find an actor who can take what is on the page and make it even greater. Doris Roberts was that kind of actor. One of my absolute favorite episodes of any television show is an episode of “Everybody Loves Raymond” from Season 7. The title is “Baggage” and the two scenes below made me feel like I was back in my childhood home again. There is a big wooden “M” in my mother’s kitchen that has been up as long as I remember and I am guessing that removing it would lead to the same result that Marie gets w…

The first good day

On the three week anniversary of the last good day I had with my mother (the last normal conversations, the last time I was certain that she knew who I was), I had the first good day with my family. Aside from a brief few moments this morning, there have been no tears and I’ve tried my best to focus on the positive memories and not the sadness of the past few weeks. I know there is a long road ahead and I expect to have more tough days. For example, I keep seeing Mother’s Day displays and for now I am doing my best to ignore them. Today was spent shopping and eating with my family. It might seem like an ordinary day to you but it was extraordinary to me because most of my weekends and weeknights for the last six months have been spent in or in transit to and from hospitals or rehab centers. But my mind still drifts back. It’s hard to accept this new reality as I found out tonight when, out of routine, I went to the phone before supper and was ready to dial it for my mother’s typical eve…

My mother

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My mother decided this morning that she was done with hospitals and rehab centers and the endless pills she had to take. She was more of a Mustang kind of person. She loved the one she had before I was born.

A hospital bed could no longer contain her.

I picture her speeding off now, at peace, no more pain, no more suffering.

I love you, Mom.

No more brake lights. The open road awaits.


A time to speak and a time to listen

I have said goodbye to my mother each night for nearly a week now. It has been my fear each time, although I had not noticed a whole lot of change until recently, that I might have been saying goodbye for the last time.

It does not get easier each time. I do believe I have finally said everything I need to say. If I haven’t, it’s my own fault. I’ve had a week of days and nights to get it all out. The first night I left, I regretted that I left out talking about certain people or certain memories. I made up for all of that since and then some.

I also told my mother numerous "secrets" (boring ones, of course) and observations that I wouldn’t share with just anyone during this time. I even fessed up to a few things that I’m sure she knew all along. Some were trivial, some were serious. Some I wish I had not put off. Most will remain just between us.

We always think we’ll have more time to say these things or that something else is more important so it can wait.

Foolish.

Of course, w…

We can't keep holding on

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I’ve been thinking a lot lately because I have a lot of 􀢢me to think. This blog started in 2007 during a time when my mother and I were driving back and forth for her pre-cancer surgery appointments.

My second entry in the blog documents the day my mother had her surgery. As I write this, my mother has been in hospice since last Tuesday. The call could come at any moment. I have wondered
if the call would come when I am in the shower. I keep a hand towel next to the phone right outside of the shower just in case. I wondered if it would happen when I was pumping gas or ordering at the drive thru. Or, will it happen when I am there? I am home during the day and there in the evening and late into the night. When I am in the room is the only time I am not afraid for the phone to ring.

The change is so gradual that it is hardly perceptible to me. The professionals, the doctors and nurses, say they see it and although the process is surprisingly slow even in their eyes, it is happening.
I sat …