Happy Birthday Mom

On Sunday last year, we were all a twitter, celebrating your 90th birthday a couple of days early.
We had not had a good few months.  One infection after another and each time less of you remained.  I believe the loss of David knocked your remaining stuffing clean away.


But that day, I, like you, got caught up in the festivities of the day and your joy in seeing so many of your people.  You loved a party, especially when the party came to you.
I remember sitting down to look at the pictures and being shocked at how different you looked from just  few months before.  You had lost so  much weight and just could never get enough air. You reminded me of someone trying to keep their head above water.

This nephew, that you hadn't seen in years, just overjoyed you. 

I ended up deleting one picture after another, because it hurt me to look at them.  I guess I knew then that we were coming to the end of your life on this mortal plane.

Throughout the year, Handy Man had been showing signs of increased fatigue and just unusual, for him, behavior.  On this day, we sat down and had a long talk and I shared my concerns, and he agreed to seek medical help.  As we know how the story goes, he didn't actually receive any medical help. The medical person was no more interested in helping than Handy Man was.  It turned out, with Handy Man and with you, things went from bad to worse.

We couldn't seem, despite everyone's best effort, to keep you out of the emergency room. You hated the hospital and you hated being tethered to that breathing machine and you flatly refused to be intubated.

They told us your heart wouldn't hold out, so we told them to leave you alone, make you comfortable.
They said they would, but they didn't and it was hard. Hard minutes, and hours and days where there were few clear answers and lots of confusion.  Finally, and blessedly, and sorrowfully and every one of the feels, the end came.
We did a bang-up send off party, just like you wanted and you seriously looked better than you did in those birthday pictures.  I barely got  myself through that when my fears, anxiety and despair moved to Handy Man and we began yet another downhill spiral to a massive heart attack and the knowledge that it might be too late to fix him. Clearly, God had another plan, so it has only been in the last few weeks that I find myself willing to try and draw an easy breath for the first time in a very long time.
Alas, grief had not forgotten me, was just waiting.
So many times as I sat in the hospital I remembered you and Daddy.  You were only in your mid forties when you gained a man child, lost a husband, with three kids still at home. I wished you were here for me to tell you how sorry I was for the hard times you faced. I missed my prayer warrior.  I missed my Mom.

I just want you to know, we never forget. You were larger than the life in your body.  Every time we gather round to eat, or pray, or sing, I remember-

How you nearly died after this picture, but was healed.






How you look just fine here, but the meningitis left you unable to walk far and Granny had to pay other bigger girls to take you to school.

 How much you loved your Daddy and how your Mama was a prickly pear.

 How you loved, with a passion, every niece and nephew you had.

 How you captured Daddy's attention while watching you ride a bicycle.

 How much you wanted and loved your big family and was known to say you wished you had seven more- have mercy (though there were times we wouldn't have minded having a few more helpers).

 And this picture just makes me laugh out loud, Tish looking intimidated and very unsure of whoever is snapping this picture, while Auntie G Lou in her typical fashion, sticking out her tongue in glee- ever the stinker.

Wow, how did I know I would hit the lottery and give you the babies of your dreams, not just twins, but lawsie, red haired ones!

Winner , winner, chicken dinner.

Speaking of which, no one makes chicken wings like you did, or a host of other things. 

So, it's been a rough few days anticipating this birthday without you.  But you are never far and I choose  to believe all the prayers you prayed for me and mine continue to do their work in our lives.  I never even say prayer that you don't pop into my mind.  I am so your child and I've grown into being okay with that.

I love you.