My beloved mother.
It’s been a while since my last post, but life’s been hectic and hell.
At the first part of October, my mother’s friend was supposed to ride to Florida with her to begin her yearly escape from the cold but she got sick and I had the availability to go, so I did. We had a good drive down and fun the time I got to spend with her. She felt bad about leaving before my surgery but the weather was getting too cold to wait much longer. I flew home 4 days later, sorry to leave the warm weather but anxious to get back before Sebastian could miss me too much knowing that he would have an extended period of separation post-surgery.
In one of my last posts, I talked about my pending surgery. These are the pretty pictures. The hand was no big deal, however, the elbow was worse than what I had expected. Of course, had I been able to recuperate normally, it may not have been as bad but that’s not the way it went.
The surgery was on 11/14. I received a message from my brother on 11/16 that they had flown mom home from Florida because her pancreatic cancer had spread to her liver and intestines. She could not drive home because one of the lesions looked like it could rupture at any time and they didn’t want her risking the drive back to Indiana.
When I saw my surgeon on 11/20, I informed him that I was flying to Florida with my son the next day to retrieve mom’s desired possessions and car. To say the least, he wasn’t thrilled. He asked me to try my best to follow his restrictions. I said that probably wasn’t gonna be possible given the task ahead.
Needless to say, it wasn’t. I overtaxed my elbow during the packing and return home. It couldn’t be helped. Then I was in such pain that I babied it too much, for too long. I’m now suffering the consequences. I will have to put a concerted effort into exercising the tendons, muscles and joint if I want to fully straighten my arm again.
Mom died on 12/5, just 2 years and 1 day after dad. After receiving my brother’s message that she was fading, I couldn’t get dressed and out of the house fast enough to get there. My eldest daughter called me with the news that she was gone. I haven’t yet decided if that was a good thing to not have seen her go or not. Time will tell I guess.
Sebastian’s mom, who had been staying with me since my second hip replacement and who thought she was too busy to show up during my recovery to help me also neglected to come to mom’s showing or funeral. So after I returned from the good old Irish wake we had at my younger brother’s house, I came home and packed up everything in her room, then waited. It took her about 4 whole days afterward for her to contact me. She said something about coming home, I calmly told her that she didn’t live here anymore. Through her protests and whines I informed her that she had received numerous warnings over the previous week that she had better be there or I was done with her. She didn’t bother to come to dad’s services nor did she come to Mark’s, whom she always said was the only true dad she ever had, and that was bad enough but she had better be there for mom’s. Then I parted with the statement that I would let her know how to get her stuff and when she grows up enough to put someone else before herself to call me. I haven’t heard from her since.
Since over the last 3 years of my life have I’ve been raked through hell and back, I’m left asking the question, “God, do you hate me or what?”
Peace and blessings,