When a person does not feel good, we need a comforting environment. Even if it looks too much like a funeral home.
“Mom, by the time I went to bed, my heart rate had slowed to 127 beats per minute. I was not sure I would wake up in the morning. I told the Lord he could take me if he wanted, although I didn’t know who then would take care of Sara.”
Those words are enough to chill any mothers heart down to the core.
Jamie’s wife, Sara, with autoimmune disease, has multiple health concerns. They have no children to look after them, and are currently caring for Sara’s mom in her elder years. The two of them have a full plate with no room for further illness.
But Jamie tested positive for COVID. I wanted in the worst way to be there for him, but there are miles between us. He’s a grown man, for goodness sake, but motherhood knows no end date.
His request from a year ago flashed through my mind. “I’d really like you to write about your mom, to know more about my grandma.” Have I done it? No.
I’ve gotta do this thing, we never know how much time we have. Chances are his sisters would like it too. Too bad I don’t understand more about the human psyche to comprehend why we don’t do the things requested of us. Particularly, for the ones that we love the most.
Me of all people, should value that simple request. In my younger years, I never thought to question the past of my family. Today is too late, they have all gone to their eternal home. The history I will never know until we are joined together again. If we are joined together.
This situation has gotten me off my proverbial butt. Even though my favorite chair (Edith’s chair, only because it is mine, it’s Julie’s chair) calls out for me to settle in with my current read or sit a spell to work out my Sudoku puzzle.
No instead, I tackled the ironing, and picked up that blasted unfinished quilt that we are using on our bed anyway. Time is ticking. But words must be written, passing on what little family history I know. Even if no one asked for it, someone down the road may find it more than interesting.
I am learning that the hard way.
Another thing I learned recently; one can contract Covid through cell phone lines. Who knew?
Not to blame Jamie or anything, but I have no idea where I picked it up at. I graciously shared with my husband, Dave. Neither of us are amused, but count ourselves among the fortunate to live to tell about it.
At this point we are too weak to point any fingers. The other night, Dave accidently spilled his drink on the carpet and I jumped (as fast as I could) to mop it up. “I think that’s the most work you’ve done in three days!”
If I were stronger I would have let him have it between the eyes. Besides…it was only two days.