Coming to terms with mortality.
When Mom speaks of her grandfather’s farm, I stop what I’m doing to listen.
We go to Walmart not to purchase anything but so she can get out of the house and get some exercise.
I know where the life insurance paperwork is for the funeral home director.
Every time I think of the finality of it all, I cry.
I’m watching another parent wither away before my eyes and much like dad during my teen years, I can do nothing but only make her comfortable.
I don’t want to do this again.
Deep inside there is the scared sixteen year old who got the call from the funeral his father was dead and they needed to talk to Mom about transportation of the body. Not your dad, Don Jewell, just “the body.”
Try reducing a family member to those two words and see if you don’t fuckin’ fall apart.
Needless to say I am thankful for my close group of friends. Some have experienced loss of a parent and some haven’t. It’s just nice to know that I can cry, rant and claim UNFAIR BULLSHIT to those who I care about and they understand me.
Anyways, I’m tearing up just writing this out.
When you put what you’re feeling into words it becomes real, even impending loss of life.
✌️ Y’all
PS:
She’s still kicking!
Don’t get me wrong!
But I notice she can’t get around as much as she used to without getting tired now. She knows I’m doing my best and has thanked me on several occasions and I’ve thanked her for putting up with my idiosyncrasies throughout my life.
I’m just hoping she makes it a few more years…but I don’t know.
Hug a loved one after you read this for me.
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