My mom had been eagerly awaiting a family reunion in November. She turned 90 in September, and basked in the glow of attention and fussing over her. In November, she helped everyone (19 in all) to get here and to spend time together. She has been extremely focused on the reunion ... the reunion... the reunion. That's what we talked about for a couple of months.
And it went off GREAT. All had a wonderful time. Everyone fussed over her. And it was blessedly short (just a long weekend), short enough that we didn't kill each other. I was able to distribute some family artifacts that I'd been holding onto. She distributed to her children and (adult) grandchildren some jewelry items but at a time when she could tell them directly the story of each one, rather than waiting until her death and people shrugging, not knowing what these things represented. It was a great success.
And smack in the middle of a dinner together, where all were having a lot of laughs, she announces, "I just want to die". OK, I'll be honest, she said that at least 10 times during the weekend. Or, I just stopped counting at 10 times. Yeah, that'll quiet a room. And, to say that during a great family dinner is just ... odd. Sure, maybe during a colonoscopy or over a dinner of liver and onions. But, at a meal surrounded by your loved ones, and everyone having such a great time? Sad. She's just tired.
Then the morning came when the reunion was over. Everyone had gone home.
And I am there with her, every day, back to just the two of us, and Groundhog Day resumes for each of us. Tick tock. Waiting.
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