The Aftermath

Mother's funeral was a full Catholic Mass. One she'd always requested. It was filled with family, friends, flowers and I thought Father Don did a good job conveying who she had been in life. I regret writing the obituary so quickly without really proofing it enough. THAT was always Mother's job. I often go over and over things like that and rework it before publishing. I should have said Love Abounds rather than Love Abound. Something silly like that. The other couple things I was able to correct before it was published. It's obviously keeping me up tonight though. Thinking of her is keeping me up.

Yesterday I had to call on all of her credit cards to cancel them. Turn off her phone and internet and write out thank you cards. It felt like I was erasing her. That didn't sit well with me. A close friend, Suzanne, suggested that I think of it more of freeing her. I hadn't considered that viewpoint. I suppose it is really stupid to think that anything of her is left here except memories so she's right. I just wish I could shake the feeling of being morose. I sit and look at two of the flower arrangements that are still thriving in my living room. I got a new frame for a very old photograph of Mother, Lisa & Myself when we were in our early twenties. I think it was the only professional photo we ever had taken. If you consider Olan Mills professional. LOL Either way it's how I like to remember us and she's beautiful and smiling in the photo.

I haven't cried nearly as much as I expected once she passed. I don't know if it's because we had so long a time to say goodbye or just the fact we know she didn't want to be living with dementia. We burned all of her old journals she wrote that she requested that were written before she was married to Willie. I found a smaller one she kept from 1999-2014 by her bedside. It's mainly contains documentation of things during those years and how she felt dealing with depression, fibromyalgia and finally cancer. It's nothing we didn't already talk about but I'm glad she was trying to find some solace in journaling through her feelings. I'm going to keep it. I can't seem to let go of it. It's her handwriting that I feel connected to. And reminds me how much more I need to really listen instead of talk.

I really hope she's finally at peace with herself, her God and with me. We all did our best but were human so were also flawed. I hope the other side is just like Sylvia Browne describes and she's gardening and studying. Two of her favorite things. I look forward to some day seeing her again but in the meantime I will do my best to keep her spirit alive in our hearts.