|Pavlova by candlelight, prepared by my friend Sasha for our Friday night dessert after dinner on the patio.|
I ask myself these days what I'm doing right, what I've done wrong. What I can re-do. What I don't know how to do. What I don't know how to do, but must do.
I'm hoping to move my mother into a nursing home in Iowa. Put her in reach of more people who love her. Put her in the care of nurses 24/7. Put myself in airplanes regularly again like when she was in the care of my brother and his girlfriend on the east coast.
This past weekend was as mixed as a weekend can be. A lovely Friday evening dinner with friends, daughter M here for the weekend. Then Sunday devolved into the unblog-able. There were two calls to the hospice nurse this weekend, two new meds in the past week. This afternoon the moaning was so loud that I thought for a moment I literally could not stand it. As per usual, the moaning does not really signify pain, it's an unconscious thing that my mom does not know she's doing. How can she stop it if she doesn't know she's doing it? How can I stand it when she can't stop it?
Every day I write in my little red "mom notebook" what I have to do, what I've done. I try to keep the plan moving along, but the plan might be changing. Plan A, Plan B. Maybe there's a Plan C that I don't even know about yet.
One of my favorite bloggers lost her mother Alice last Wednesday. Andrea's adventures with Alice have been sort of a guiding light for me. Now that light is out. I have plenty of support left, but I ask myself if I'm ready to let go of my mom. To really let go. I think I am. But I also think it will be harder than I imagine.
Tonight I'm remembering this dream I had when Dan was dying. How the dream helped me know what to do. How it changed the plan. How everything fell into place. How I had to let go.