I was lost. I was my mother’s confidant, her caretaker, her parent. A magazine had printed a picture of a middle-aged woman holding a baby, except the baby was an elderly parent. That is how I felt about my mother.
I was sick — thanks to Dad for passing on the stomach ailment to me.
Just in the Nick of Time
My nephew Nick and his wife Jen came and stayed with us before the funeral. Nick was at seminary in Missouri. His sweet wife Jen took over the logistics I would have done if I hadn’t been sick – she worked with our church on the brochures, the music (she was a music/worship major in college), and helped coordinate the food. Without Nick and Jen’s help it may not have come together. Again, the Lord provided just what was needed.
Nick and Jen at their wedding a few years prior, talking with Dad.
Mom’s visitation and funeral passed in a blur. Sitting near the casket the night before the funeral, I greeted friends – sick, tired and hoping I wasn’t contagious.
My sister Patty, me, and our life-long friends, Marcia and her mom, Evie, who came to the funeral. Now Evie lives in the carehome where our dad ended up, struggling with her own battle with dementia.
At my Mother’s request, a good minster friend officiated her funeral, and each of the grandchildren participated. My mother’s greatest joy in life was her grandchildren, she adored them and they adored her.
Lee, the eldest grandson:
Four of the grandchildren, Toby, Josie, Elo and Corey:
I mostly tried not to cry, but was not successful. I’m certain it was a memorable service; we have a tape of it, but I haven’t listened to it since that day.
I had reached the end of my proverbial rope.
After the funeral I announced to my sisters, “I’m done taking care of people. You three take care of Dad.”