It's not funny anymore

Yesterday I heard a knock at the door. "Hello, I am blah blah, from blah blah blah, and I'm here to set up a bed for, let's see...." he rifles through a stack of papers that seem stuck to his little clipboard "Billye Caviness?" I say, with my eyelids half open, and my hair looking like who knows what. "Yea" he says " I was scheduled by" again with the rifling, "Hospice?" I so brilliantly guess, even with sleep in my eyes. I'm that way. Smart, without having to be fully awake, or some would say ..smart ass. Okay, inside I was sorry, I was just to tired to say so, and no one had bothered to tell me this was going to be the day, so of course, I had nothing ready. So, without apologizing, I tell him where he can put the bed,... no, really, the bed is supposed to go next door to my house. I get the keys, grab a robe, make a quick check on mom, and lead him over to my house. Upon unlocking the door, and seeing the aftermath of leaving my husband and 3 kids to fend for themselves this last month, my first instinct is to apologize to this guy. I want to say, I'm sorry. Sorry for the dishes left in the sink, and on the bar, oh, and there's one on the floor by the couch, what? can't see it, it's right behind the pile of clothes someone took off and left there, see? right beside the old homework papers the kids don't need anymore, yea those, right there on the piano bench that was drug into the living room to be used as a desk. I wanted to say sorry for the dust, we haven't dusted in a while, and my husbands' and son's camping gear left on the dining room table, as if they were just leaving, (not that they just got back 2 weeks ago), and sorry for the pillows and blankets left on the living room couch, which makes it look like my kids don't have a bedroom of their own.

Then in a split second, I found my senses, showed him where I wanted the bed, right here in the middle of it all. He probably felt sorry for the old broad (as my Papa John would say). I wasn't for a minute going to apologize for the mess. I felt like saying, "We all have been doing God's work, and ours can wait" And it is true. I guess it would be nice to have help with the houses (yes, there have been 2 to keep up) work, but I have POTS, and it makes it hard for me to stand, walk or bend over, especially after taking care of mother and all the activity that takes, what with the laundry, dishes at her house, sweeping, mopping, changing her briefs, repositioning her, medicating her, not to mention the spiritual and psychological needs one has when they are dying, I am contantly exhausted, even when I wake from a nap, an hour later I am fatigued. My children are also very close to mom, and instead of coming home to this empty house, they have wanted to stay with her and do their homework with her for as long as possible. They occasionally want to spend the night with me and her, so they did. What a blessing it was to have her living next door, how many other grand kids can say that today? And I'm not apologizing to some stranger for the blankets and pillows on the couch, because when the kids do come home, they want to be together at night, brother and sister, not alone in their bedrooms (but heaven forbid they sleep in the same bed - so the couches it is. and who knows what they talk about? I'm just glad they know they have each other in times like these). And, I'm not apologizing especially to some stranger for the camping gear that my husband hasn't put up yet, because he works 12 hour shifts 6 days a week, and takes the family to church on Sundays - you know why - because that's how he relieves stress - fishing or camping or hunting or scouting for something to hunt. He and my son, and sometimes my daughters just pick up and go, and I am so grateful for a husband that spends time with his children, and not at some bar after work, or drinking some 6-pack to 'unwind' with his 'buddies'. So when you come, my family and friends, I will scoot things out of our way, but sorry, I won't be apologizing anymore. And for those who say, "If there is anything you need...." the answer is yea, I need my dishes done. Who doesn't need that? lol. And for those in my 'family' who say they don't come over because my house is messy - to them I say thank you - I have enough stress in my life. And may God bless them with everything they stand in need of.

So, we'll take care of this house now, with my mother here by our side, which won't be long. Although she can no longer speak, her presence is felt. Her breathing is harder, her lungs filling with fluid, although she is no longer drinking again. She can no longer move, or reposition herself, so I help her do that with the love that a mother rocks her baby. It's a part of this process called dying, a process I revere with as much awe and grace as watching a new born baby come into this world. She is also running a fever. I know her brain can no longer regulate her body temperature. She doesn't have an infection, she is dying. I can tell you she is comfortable, Hospice is wonderful about that, they provide all that mom needs, whatever she needs, and whenever she needs it. If you have any questions, you can ask, don't be timid or shy. Mother never was. She would have told you anything you wanted to know, right up front, and so will I. Mom never listened to gossip, she may have heard it, but she never listened, and there is a difference. So I won't either. Mom tried to make everyone around her feel good, so.... so will I.
And whether you knew it or not, mom has a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, her Lord and Savior. If you didn't know, it's because that's what it is..... personal. But I will tell you I have one too, and it is He and Heavenly Father who are helping me now. And I hope that is our one difference. I want you to know that. Love, Suzanne

Sometimes life is funny

Today mom woke up and told me "I don't want to be in this room anymore." Just like that. It was a whisper, but I understood her clearly. I asked her if she wanted to go into the livingroom with the kids, and she just repeated "I don't want to be here anymore." I asked her if she was in pain, and she replied "no" , and she really did appear to be somewhat comfortable, but when I asked her if she was okay, she again replied "no". Instead of tippy-toeing around the subject, I finally asked her if she wanted to go to Heaven, to see Jesus, and Papa John, and she said "yes". This is what makes my eyes teary. I'm sure this whole process of dying is tiresome. I wish I could take her outside one more time, however if you knew my mom, she wasn't a big fan of "outside". She loves AC and TV, and CD's. ha ha. (anymore initials anyone?.....) She would love that.

It's 4:15am, and I haven't slept all night. I've been listening to her breathe, and looking up poems, and music for her memorial service. By the way, do you know there is a difference between a 'funeral' and a 'memorial service'? The presence of a body. That's the difference. If there's a body in a casket (ha ha, where else would it be..) , then it's a funeral. If there is no body, then it's a memorial service. That's funny. As if the body were there, the actual person were there, and it's not a 'memory'. I believe, and so does mom that the body is just a shell once the spirit of the person leaves it. I guess that's why she wanted to be cremated. That was her choice, not any of ours. She wants her ashes scattered with my Papa John's. Of all the times we discussed it, she never could make up her mind where. Just like her, let us figure that out. Somehow she gets out of all the 'hard' stuff. just kidding. but not really. I guess to her it didn't matter. She knows she will be in Heaven, not here. It's those left behind that want a say how things are done when she's gone. That's funny too. I guess you have to be here to get that inside joke. I'm so sleepy now, I'll try to get some rest. Thank you for your prayers and thoughts. I never knew I had so many great friends, and family. I really do appreciate each and every one of you. Love, Suzanne.