today

They returned Mom's oxygen equipment yesterday. That was the first time I've cried in almost 3 days. Oh, and when Laurie called to tell me she was thinking of me (thanks, Laurie!). I cannot believe the outpouring of love and support I've received - letters, phone calls, e-mails, hugs. I know it's not just for me - it's for everyone who's ever lost (or is losing) a dear parent. I say it's like this horrible club that you didn't know was out there, but that you're grateful for. I'm grateful for all of you - thank you.

I leave at noon, and what I want to say is that I'm traveling to Bismarck for an event that has a known ending - Mom dying. I'm leaving my husband and son and will not be with them for a while, and that makes me sad. Usually I leave Fargo for a happy event - to see Mom and Dad. But this trip, it appears, to be doubly edged with toughness. There is no sunny side. That is difficult for me. I cried into Steve's arm last night as I articulated this feeling, and he said, "We'll still love you. You think if you leave us here, we won't love you anymore when you get back." I don't know how he had this thought, but it isn't true. Then I wonder if that's how HE feels, but I can't think about that kind of mirror logic right now. I can't even remember if Erik's detached garage opens with a key or a door opener. I forgot to pick up the groceries on Sunday, and had to drive back (sheepishly) with my plastic numbered cards to get them. The ice cream was a little melted.

I'm streamlining my thoughts, as I fall asleep gently last night, I remember that I want to take a copy of "The Prophet" and "Gift from the Sea" to read to Mom, then the thoughts start marching, and it's midnight before my brain finally slows down enough to shift into alpha state. It's almost over, I tell Bill. "How much longer is this home stretch?" he asks me. Well, two weeks from today I will be home again, no matter what, so that's something. I got the information that Mom would die before the next full moon, and I thought that was in the next few days, but no, the next full moon isn't until July 18th. Well that's a DUH piece of information if I've ever heard it! But it brings up an interesting point. Everything turns, everything changes, everything keeps walking slowly and steadily on, even if we want it to go faster or stop. We can't do anything about that linear time thing but watch it progress. Watch the leaves come out, green up, turn brown and brittle, drop to the ground. Over and over again. That's just the backdrop to the rest of life, and we decide what comes in front of all of that. Whom do we spend time with, what makes us laugh, what and whom do we love, how do we spend our moments? I don't want ANY regrets. I want to keep living consciously, taking responsibility for this precious life.

I don't regret one single thing with my mom, except for that one time I bitched about how hard I worked that one Christmas that we all went down there, two years ago, and I did all the cooking and cleaning so everyone could have a good time. I have martyr tendencies. But after Mom said three separate times how perfect a time it was, and I bitched that I had gotten too tired, I stopped, and told her, "Mom, I am rewriting what I've said these past times. It WAS a perfect holiday - I had a perfect time, and it was so great to be there with you and Dad and my family. I wouldn't have changed a single thing." So maybe I don't regret my words about that Christmas after all. Maybe it's never too late to rewrite history, OR your feelings or words. Am I at peace? Well, yes, but then I conjure up Mom's face in my head and I can see her, laughing, and I start to cry, just a little bit. God, I'm going to miss her. But peaceful? Sure, yeah, I'll get there. Spiritually I'm at peace; physically? I'm working on it...