I'm Typing as Fast as I Can!

Quick update: Nothing in the nodes, so light chemo.

I had a VERY busy week with rehearsals on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, a birthday dinner on Friday, and performances on Saturday and Sunday.

I'll catch all three of you semi-frequent readers up as soon as I can. I must head out the door very shortly.

Thanksgiving, Etc.

Bowman came over with a ladder on Wednesday morning. He helped me get the lights up.

During the lighting of the porch, who should arrive but Kevin Raney! For those of you who have not been following my life, Kevin was the guy who rented this house before me, and was my roommate here for about 20 months or so.

So that was a nice visit.

Then I started putting up the tree, took some junk to the curb, Sara arrived and helped me with my NEW AND IMPROVED TREE LIGHTS, I rushed to pack and get the dishes done (because coming home to a smelly kitchen and dishes waiting to be done is for the birds), got Christmas music loaded into my CD player, and found Christmas music to take home with me.

This way, I'm prepared with holiday music for the drive back to KC, and when I return to KC on Friday night, I can turn the porch lights on, turn my tree lights on (it's still not decorated yet, by the way), and turn on some holiday music.

But I get ahead of myself. There's all sorts of fun between the leaving and the returning.

Just before Sweet Springs we have a flat. Hooray!

While changing the flat, I lose one of the nuts. Hooray!

For the actual "Hooray!", I found the nut, eventually.

We slowly made our way to first Booneville, then Columbia (did you ever notice how few and far between good tire spots are on I-70 at 5:45 the evening before a holiday?), where we lucked out and caught the Wal-Mart folks still open.

New tire. Hooray!

Total time for a trip that usually takes 4 hours on a SLOW trip, and about 3 hours and 15 minutes otherwise: 5 hours and 10 minutes.

So I get home. Not long after I get home, Ruth and Leslie pull me into Mom's room to talk to me. (It's always a good sign when people want to pull you aside, right?)

Short version: My older sister had a cancerous lump in one of her breasts, and opted to have both breast removed, and the surgery was that very day.

Why am I just hearing about it on this day, you may ask?

Well, you need to know a little of my early history, and if you already know this, I apologize. When Mom was in the hospital giving birth to Dane (and probably some time before and after that, but I don't know exactly), my sister took care of me a lot. I was 18 months old when Dane was born. I probably bonded just as much with my older sister as I did with Mom.

So, everyone who knew wanted to put off telling me until they knew where things were. Things are in a fairly good spot now, so it seemed safe to tell me.

Leslie was worried I was going to lose it and start crying, which would mean she would do the same thing. Luckily this year has beaten me down so much and taken so much out of me, all I can do is stare at the horrible things with my mouth slightly slack, and maybe blink a couple of times.

On a less upsetting (but still very stressful) note: The oven decided at 6:30 on Thanksgiving morning that it wasn't going to work.

Luckily Wade knows the people out at the Junction, and they allowed us to use their ovens.

I go to see Les & Paulette, and I got to see Leslie and Jordan, and it was good being home, and I wish I would have spent more time there. Right now I'm debating a trip to Omaha to visit Say.

Anyway, the return trip home wasn't a big deal, as I didn't have a flat or lose a lugnut. And when I got to my house nobody had any horrible news.

I did hear that Ben & Tricia made a big meal on Thanksgiving because Maddie insisted on having a Thanksgiving feast like on Maya and Miguel, and when the turkey was finally done and on the table (there's a whole garbage-disposal-erupts-and-Ben-must-repair-it-as-Tricia-cooks subplot that makes this next bit even better), Madeline says she wants Bologna.

So Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! May your holiday season be a good one.

The Quest for a Ladder

I'm trying to pre-plan my holiday lighting, which mostly revolves around finding a ladder so I can put my big lights on the roof of the porch.

Last year I borrowed one from Ben & Tricia that was left at their house by the people who re-did their deck. But those people eventually came and got their ladder, so that won't work.

Bowman has a ladder, but and it's a matter of scheduling when he can come over for me to use it. That's no big, but I probably should just invest in one.

But then I think, "You're going to invest in a ladder that you'd use basically once a year?" (Taking down the lights actually doesn't involve a ladder, you see.)

And then there's the whole issue of how to have the lights on AFTER Thanksgiving, but before I come home from Center (where the big Thanksgiving Bash is this year), as I'll probably be going to Center on Wednesday and returning Friday or so. I guess I could just arrive during the day on Friday... but it's such a cool Christmas thing to arrive home at night with the lights greeting me.

Yes, these are the major issues of my life. How do I make it from day to day? Really, it's my faith. My faith in pain medication and sleep.

Well, if you live near me and have a ladder, give me a shout. Maybe I can save Bowman a trip.

I Am NOT Depressed! I've Just Been in a Bad Mood for 20 Years!

Or 38. Whatever.

Look, I'm not trying to bring you down. I'm just putting this out there so it's out there.

So back off, non-commenters who have issues. Jeez, it's the world-wide web! There are gazillions of other sites you could be visiting instead of the one that depresses you!

Plus, I'm not depressed. I'm introspective. There's a big difference.

So there, sha na.

Luv y'all lotz.

You Know You're in for a Great Post when I Have to Look Up "Callus"

It's a spelling thing.

I got so wrapped up in lookin gup "callus" that I forgot what I was going to say. Oh yes, that.

I'm wondering if my heart has grown a callus in that area that was being slammed against so regularly about two months ago. At first I thought maybe I was just getting over it, but then when Tricia had her situation, my reaction in the privacy of my own home was not that of someone who was feeling okay.

I guess. Like I know what's the reaction of someone who feels okay.

I don't know. (This is my new theme song, by the way... anyone want to set it to music?)

I don't know much about anything. Someone wake me when the world is all better again.

Also, how did I get to be almost 39 without knowing about the two different ways of spelling callous, and their somewhat different meanings? How callous of me! Okay, it isn't really callous of me, but I wanted to put that in a sentence.

I'm going to go to bed now. This thinkin' thing is for the birds.

Yes, I'm Getting Right on That Update

Well, who knew pancreatitis could be so much FUN?

To summarize: "They'll let her eat tomorrow, and if she keeps it down, she may be able to go home earlier than we thought" Fast forward. "Well, she's running a fever, and the pain is back." Fast forward. "She's having surgery on Friday to have her gall bladder removed." Fast forward. "Well, instead of doing that laser surgery, they had to do the one where they just about saw her in half." Fast forward. "She's in lots of pain."

So I guess I should have posted another prayer request before the surgery.

When I had my gall bladder removed (there's a story, of course, but we'll save that for another time), I had to sign something saying I understood that I might wake up with a gigantic "oh man they cut me in half" scar instead of four smaller scars. I thought, "Well, the way my life goes, I think I know which one I'll wake up to."

Imagine my surprise when I woke up with just the four small scars.

Apparently Tricia wasn't so lucky.

They're moving this week, too. She could be going home as early as the first part of next week, but she won't be able to open boxes or put things away.

But she really wants to direct.

Actually, I don't know what she wants, as she's doped up when I go to see her... well, doped up and in pain.

Her mom took the girls back to our home county, and now both of them are sick.

Let me tell you, this family doesn't do the drama thing halfway. Ben with his leukemia, Trica with her pancreatitis. It goes on and on.

And I don't see how it would be karma, as they are good people. They have taken me in on more occasions than I'm willing to go into right now, the most recent being when I had a broken-and-recently-operated-on leg, and couldn't really shower at my own place.

::sigh::

Also, I forgot to call my friend Leigh on her birthday. I must post this, log off, and call right now. I'll solliloquize more later. And if that's a word, I doubt I spelled it correctly.

Get a Calendar!

Lyndsey's neighbor has Christmas lights up AND ON!

As Damien was pulling into the driveway tonight, I saw that and shouted, "Get a calendar! I'm going over there with it!"

I like my lighting of the holiday cheer like I like my comas: From Thanksgiving Night until the evening of January 7th. Or maybe it the evening of the 6th of January. That part I'm flexible on.

Anyway: grrrrr...

But, you know, I'm not going to write my congressman or anything. It's just bothersome.

Yes, yes, put up the lights while we're having the 80-degree heatwave in November, I'm fine with that. But can you not hold off on lighting them until we've sorta wrapped up the whole Thanksgiving thing?

I know: this is not the most important issue in the world, so I should shut up about it.

Look at me, I'm the cranky old man.

Well, I've got to get to bed... but I'm still reeling over the ending of Lost last night, as I was not expecting what happened until right when it happened. And I'm in denial, because I'd just gotten to where I liked that character. Maybe she won't die. But I'm not holding my breath.

Yes, only the important issues are discussed here, folks.

I need to get an e-mail sent out about the upcoming concert. I have a solo in the 2nd act, and I portray a fun character (well, fun to portray, anyway... I'll let you make your own judgment as to how fun the character is when you come to see the concert). If you know what concert I'm talking about, you should go order your tickets now. They're selling fast. If you don't know, I'll probably be sending out an e-mail soon with all the details.

Well, be good in the meantime, children.

Sunrise, Sunset

Due to me being lazy and/or tired this morning, I was driving to work at about 6:30 instead of 5:30, and thus got to see a very beautiful morning sky. The cloud cover was that sorta bumpy spread-out deal, and it was very bright pink, deep purple, and a mix of some colors in between.

Then, as I left the school at 4:45 tonight, a great sunset was in the making. The clouds were very... streaky, I guess would be one way of putting it, and were very deep purple with bright pink and deep red surrounded them.

And I had to think, "What a waste."

I kid. But I was a bit bitter about it, because I just think, "Why waste such great views on the likes of us?"

A friend of mine mentioned something yesterday about there being no god, and this is a religious friend who is going through some stressful times this past... um.. nine years or so--off and on.

And I found this to be upsetting. See, despite my agnatheist status... okay, I'm kidding... I don't know what I am... humanist, maybe? Anyway, despite that status, unlike the recruiting-happy branches of one religion that shall remain un-named in this post, I'm not interested in getting other people to think like me.

Granted, it would be nice to meet people who think like me, but that's another issue.

Anyway, I don't know what to do... or if there's anything for me to do. I just find it very upsetting, because there's not a lot of comfort in believing what I believe. I don't like to think of someone who used to have some belief losing that faith.

But the sunrise and the sunset today were pretty.

Another Prayer Request

Tricia's in her favorite hospital (Providence). You people who pray can feel free to pray that she's out of that place as quickly as possible. Pancreatitis is what they're going with right now, and it's a matter of waiting for the swelling to go down.

So do her a favor and pray hard, praying folk.

To Business! (SFX: glasses clinking)

I kid. And I quote The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams. Well, I added the sound effect so you'd get the idea.

Anyway, not getting to business.

I was actually going to say a thing or two here, but after all the housekeeping I had to do on this site, I've forgotten what I wanted to say.

I think I was going to mention that Jordan had a birthday yesterday, and is now less than two years away from being a teen.

I also wanted to say something about my crazy holiday light issue, as I just found a great deal on lights for my tree.

And I was going to mention how life keeps trying to seem better, but jarring memories and emotions are lurking behind the most innocent-looking bushes. This led to a thought about how it's like living in this crazy place where the road is kinda bumpy and you never know what's around the next corner, but you're almost guaranteed to not be happy to see it... and then I realized we had a four-letter word for that: life.

Ha ha. I kid the end of the world, but I love it.

MST3K quote there.

Things are going more normal these days. I had dinner with the family Reynolds over the weekend, and I saw a MST3K (a Joel one, even) I'd never seen before. Fun stuff!

Also, Halloween party on Saturday. Very good time.

Yes, good times abound.

Hooray.

Next week I'll shoot for an exclamation point.

Okay, I'm tired. I don't remember what I really wanted to say, but it seemed cool when I first thought of it. How better to memorialize it than with this pathetic substitute ramble-fest?

::sigh::

Charlie Brown, we miss you so.

You Wanna See Something REALLY Scary?

Happy Halloween, everyone!

Now THAT is an Unhappy Mark

In response to an interesting question someone posed to me yesterday, I now defer to my small reading audience:

How do you know when I'm unhappy?

I have no idea how other people know when I'm unhappy, and I'm curious to hear what signals are. Or have you just never seen me unhappy?

I think I coast at numb, but maybe I'm wrong.

And now that I think about it, the word might have been "sad", and not "unhappy". So reply for both, please.

I anxiously await the flood of responses that aren't junk-posts from advertisers.

Traffic Light Reflection

This afternoon I was sitting at the traffic light southbound on Rainbow Boulevard at 43rd Avenue (in a car, obviously... not just sitting there) thinking about... I don't know, whatever I think about, which many friends and other people required to spend time with me might argue is EVERYTHING...

I've lost my train. Oh, there it is.

I was sitting there thinking and waiting for the light to change, when I had a thinking fit, of sorts.

I was remembering that last time I ever saw Mom, which is to say the last time I ever will see her (in this world, anyway... I haven't ruled out an afterlife, I'm just not totally sold on it). I flashed onto that moment where I leaned down and told her it was okay if she needed to go, we understood.

I thought, "What a stupid person I was."

Because this other part of me, this huge and loud part of me--which was apparently sleeping these last few years, after Mom went into the nursing home, and I knew it was just going to be a rerun of Grandma's time at those nursing homes--this part of me feels that it wasn't okay. It feels as if some part of me is gone now because she's gone. I don't know what I believe about anything, but I'm starting to believe some part of what little joy I carried around with me was there because she was alive. Sorta like she was a life support system for a chunk of my joy.

I know, that's stupid and superstitious and more like crazy talk than real talk. Or real sane talk, anyway.

Of course, barring some crazy miracle, what else could I have wanted for her? My hope is that wherever she is now, she's reconnected with all of her mind. That's my hope anyway.

Jeez, talk about "I'm crying as I type."

Anyway, at the stop light I realized that part of me isn't happy with me for saying that, even though other parts of me (and people who have posted comments here agree) thought it was the right thing to do.

I'm sorry I didn't hold her hand. I'm sorry I didn't work harder to figure out if Dane wanted to kiss her or not.

I've been missing Mom for a while now, and for most of that time I thought I was just doing a drawn-out grieving thing. Apparently it was an "ignore it and it will go away" thing.

Time to pay the piper.

And I feel weird that I have a hard time talking to my friends about stuff. I feel weird that I'm talking to a minister of a church I don't go to. It helped to talk with him, and I plan to talk to him again, but does it say something about me that I'm not having this conversation with friends? It must, because I'm not having this conversation with friends because I don't know how... or that I can.

Blah blah blah, me me me. How's everyone else doing?

I'm going to end this blahfest with that happy piece of news. The Wilders won the Pitch's "Best of Kansas City" award in the country music category. Go over to their blog at http://wildersontour.blogspot.com and congratulate 'em!

Every Week Lasts a Month

Probably in part because of how busy I am, but probably also in part because my brain is dealing with too much in my life, every week seems to last about a month.

I know part of it is the whole "yet another 'first year' at school" thing. I'm teaching Pre-Algebra to some of my kids this year, and it's like a first year all over again. I had my second first year three years ago when I started teaching math, and it was kinda similar.

And then there's the whole, "Where did I put that handbook for grieving?"

Anyway, looks like someone jumped from behind to overtake Ruth, and now she's at #5. I don't think some matching funds have come through yet, so she may make it back up to at least #4. Still, it's cool so many people gave to the cause. Thanks to all that did.

Speaking of "Thanks", also on my to-do list is all the Thanks You's I need to send out. The plan is an e-mailed "Thank You" to the e-mailed people, and a card to everyone who sent a card, plant, tater-tot casserole (okay, nobody sent one, but Jhoneric threatened to), or whatnot. I'm not sure what Emily Post says the window of Thank You sending is for a death. I'm not going to look it up. I'll just give myself until the end of the week, as that would be a month from the death itself.

Had a nice long chat with a Methodist Minister this week. It was kinda good to just puke my life out at him. I know, bad visual. But I mean it was nice to just sorta blurt it all out to somebody. Poor him.

But how funny is it that I'm having a sit-down chat with a minister of anything? (Okay, Minister of Magic, maybe...) But I mean of a religion. Also, is "Minister" the title in the Methodist Church? I should look this up.

Anyway, I'm not anti-church. Seriously, I'm not. I'm just anti-"I believe this and thus you must believe it also, and it must be the guiding factor in every decision our government makes, and our way is the only way". Which is a long bit to be anti- about.

Frankly, I don't know what I believe. I'm not willing to just say, "Well, what you believe is impossible," because really, it's just some level of improbable, isn't it? Or probable. Really, one is the compliment of the other, so I guess by choosing "improbable" first, I appear to be a glass-half-empty kind of guy. But in this case I picked "improbable" because I'm a fan of Douglas Adams' five-book trilogy.

Long week. Couple of respites in there (talking with Andy, dinner with friends (Sunday, Wednesday, and Thursday (because when I went to get those DVDs from The Jahnz Thursday night, they shared their pizza with me as we watched Smallville and their home videos from the tourney in St. Louis)), rehearsal on Tuesday, and even my laundromat visit on Monday was a bit of a break). Wow, I just went parenthesis-happy there. So it was a VERY long week, but with several respites from the stress of life. That's all that long bit was meant to mean.

Okay, Ruth is walking as I type, or about to, or just finished doing so. I am going to log off and give her a call.

That is, after I e-mail that company about being hired to tutor. Wish me luck with that.

Never Wish Anyone Dead

Okay, after several days to cool down, I must now post that I don't truly wish my eldest brother dead.

I do wish him peace, but I don't know how he's going to find it this lifetime. But that's pretty much true of everyone, I guess.

Also, I wish I could stop posting with so many typographical errors. A spell-check and a proofread would probably help. So I'm wishing I'd start doing those more often.

Now be sure to scroll down so you can go donate some money to the Alzheimer's Association via my sister's Memory Walk on October 1.

Ruth is Walking

Ruth is walking in the Alzheimer's Association's Memory Walk, in Memory of Mom. If you'd like to read what she wrote about it, or would like to sponsor/donate/whatever, here is where you can do that.

Also, I haven't deleted any actual comments. They were ads or something. Junk comments. Go figure.

A Very Traditional Service

I finally made it back to Center on Thursday. Apparently lots had been going on. Ed, who on Monday was saying, "If we have a service, Mom is going to haunt us," or something of the like, has decided that since we're having a service, it MUST be a TRADTIONAL one. Any thoughts we had of, "We can just have everyone sing a few of her favorite hymns and maybe Dane read a few scriptures" were thrown out the window by the drunken organist (that's Ed, for those of you who don't know my brother) and by a VERY EVIL minister/preacher/overlord/whatever-they-call-the-religious-leader-in-a-Disciples-of-Christ-church.

Five songs would be out of the question, as the tradition is two at most. I'm not even sure if they asked for five songs. It might have been four.

"The church isn't air-conditioned upstairs. We don't want to go too long. (We don't want the neighbors to think we don't know how to have a service.) (We have to get our advertisement in about our church, as it's not important to respect the dead, we just want more numbers every Sunday!) "

They last two are parenthetical, because they're the unspoken actual reasons.

Anyway, Ruth called Ed to tell him that since he knows exactly what should be done, and after turning it all over to Ruth, Wade, and Leslie, went behind their back to get the EVIL OVERLORD of the church on his side (not that it takes much, apparently, as the man isn't there to help anyone through a process, but instead wants more people to come to his church each week), he can decide how everything is going to be done--except that Dane will be reading scripture. Ed didn't answer, so she left this on his voice mail, and did it politely, according to Leslie.

Friday Ruth gets a text message from Ed, referring to her as Lady Hitler (which seems like it needs to be a song title) and saying they need to talk.

The funny part is, Ruth is the non-conflict person in our family. She doesn't freak out about it, but she majorly avoids it where possible.

So, she's upset, going over to Ed's place (which is like two blocks away), and Lelise decides to drive her, and Wade wants to go with her. I decide to go with, also.

It didn't go well. Ed tried to rationalize that since songs make people cry, that's why he didn't want too many songs. Ruth didn't have much time to cry "bulls--t", because Wade jumped in with a "Shut the f--k up" shortly afer that. But seriously, "bulls--t" needs to be cried here, because here are the five songs: Come to the Church in the Wildwood, Onward Christain Solders, Bringing in the Sheaves, Count Your Blessings, and The Old Rugged Cross. Of those five, only the fifth is anywhere close to being a "weep" song, and it's not all that close.

Well, it was loud, and ended it by threatening to go to the "Traditional" service in drag and telling Ed to keep drinking because he wasn't dead yet.

Yeah, it's bad to wish people dead. And if he counted as a person, maybe I wouldn't have wished it. Okay, he counts as a person, but he's a pickled evil person.

The funy part is, we had all sorta decided to just grin-and-bear-it. Our Aunt Rachel was due to arrive about 5 minutes after Ruth got the text message, and we were just going to suck it up for her (she was the one who pulled rank and said we had to have a service at the church in the first place).

Well, they arrived about 20 minutes after we got back home, and there was no sucking it up.

The even funnier bit is, Ruth was ready to go over to Ed's on Sunday morning to make peace, then Dane told us that at church that day Ed told LaRita Poage that we had wanted TEN songs for that service.

Evil drunk organist, I tell you. Now a LYING evil drunk organist... but the "evil" kinda covers that.

Anywho, back to Saturday, the service was okay, but the flippin EVIL OVERLORD-PREACHER-WHATEVER spoke for about twenty minutes... if not longer. And this would have been fine, had it been about Patsy. But the freakin' guy turned the last half (at least) into a stinkin' advertisement for his stinkin' church.

Granted, I've learned all churches must be evil or cowards (see earlier posts), but I thought they actually gave a crap about people who died. Maybe it's only people who died and left a large amount of money to the church.

So, instead of singing songs my mother enjoyed (and as long as he spoke, we probably could have fit three more songs in, not just two), we got to find out all about the Christian Church. Neat. Wonder what his room in hell will be like.

But Dane got to read scripture.

Oh yeah, and while the drunk organist had his back to everyone playing the first song (The Old Rugged Cross), our cousins Mike and David showed up. David broke his neck years ago and is in a wheelchair. This caused Dane and a few others to start crying, and seeing Dane cry made me start crying. So you know that drunk organist bast--d was thinking, "See, I was right. Songs make people cry!"

Whatever. Ruth is gonna talk to him while she's back there this weekend. Who knows how that will go. Mainly she's worried that in a drunken fit of self-pity he's gonna flush mom's ashes down the toilet or something.

The thing on Sunday, the thing we originally planned and Ed opted not to attend, was great. It's what I want when I'm dead. We planned for 50 and 30-some-odd showed up (I wish my Aunt Rachel and my cousins Cheryl and Karen could have stayed, as I think they would have enjoyed it), and I learned stuff about my mom I never knew. Only Peggy Swon wept while speaking, and that was okay because she kept apologizing about it, so it was sorta funny.

Whatever you want to happen while you're dead, you should probably write it down. And if you have a drunk jerk for your first-born, make it clear in some sort of legal document that he not be allowed to have anything to do with your services.

But I'm not bitter.

Several people e-mailed pictures of them wearing red over the weekend. I think I'm going to declare August 20 (Mom's birthday) as "wear-red-for-Patsy-day" every year, and have people e-mail me pics of them in red. Think anybody will?

Rest In Peace

Patsy Ann (Hickerson) Riggs

August 20, 1930 - September 6, 2005

She didn't smoke, and she couldn't stand the smell--let alone the taste--of beer.

This picture is a joke. She liked to laugh. She thought it was more useful than crying.

Thanks for the prayers/thoughts/karma

I was going to go to bed as soon as I got home from school yesterday, but didn't. Then there were phone calls from Ruth and Leslie, as they both were heading to Center. Rusty had been calling the nursing home throughout the day to get Mom's vitals, and she thought it was going to be soon.

I finally got to bed a little after 8:00.

Ruth got the call when she was about 5 minutes from the nursing home. She left me a message (there's a long story about why the phone upstairs doesn't work, and my bedroom is upstairs) shortly after that. I woke up at 2:30 this morning, and came downstairs to see if there was a message. It was the first message.

Thanks to everyone who prayed or thought of us or sent us karma.

I honestly thought the relief that she wasn't suffering any more would somehow make this feel better.

Prayer Request

For those of you who have a deity of choice, and of those, those who has a deity of choice that takes requests:

Ruth called this morning (read: YESTERDAY morning, as I've just now gotten home, and it's after midnight) to let me know Mom "isn't responding" to the nurses. She's not eating, and as per Mom's wishes, they aren't going to go to any excessive steps to keep her alive. Originally Ruth was told it could be 7 to 10 days, or it could be a month, or... etc.

So Ruth and I decided to go home to see Mom one last time. Sara wanted to go to, so we went and got her, and drove her bigger vehicle (which eats more gas, but will carry all us big folk all the better).

Ruth had gotten it more nailed down to 7 to 10 days on the whole "waiting period" thing. So we felt justified in our road-tripping.

If you haven't figured it out by now (those of you who know me, especially), my family deals with stuff mostly through humor. We had some fun chitchat all the way home, and many laughs were had.

Mom has always been vocal about not wanting a funeral. There's some disagreement as to whether or not she wanted any service at all (memorial, for instance), but I do agree with Ruth that she has said she didn't want people feeling like they had to get dressed up, etc. (or something along those lines).

So, discussion with Wade, Dane, Ed, (and the three of us) over what to do. Ed mentions "mom has some labored breathing, and doesn't really look around". Dane, Ruth, Sara, and I head to Palmyra to the nursing home.

Yeah, "some laboered breathing".

A visual: Have you ever seen an animal (maybe a happy-go-lucky dog, or maybe a rabbit) that has been hit by a car, and is lying at the side of the road, breathing hard, maybe in a lot of pain and maybe in shock?

An audible: Have you heard that animal taking each breath as if it might be the last?

That's what we walked in on, except the animal was the woman who brought us into the world. Sara lost it (this is no surprise, because she is the least skilled at keeping her upset bottled up), and that made it hard for us not to lose it.

I wanted to hold Mom's hand one last time, but she was sorta wrapped in her blanket, and I didn't want to unwrap her and maybe make her cold. So, after several minutes, I settled for stroking her hair, kissing her cheek, and whispering to her that if she needed to go, she should. We would understand.

This was after Ruth stood by her a while, and while Sara came and went from the room as her mood would allow.

Sara went to give Mom a kiss, and I needed to lower the side rail. I told Dane if he wanted to kiss mom, I could help him get to her, or if he didn't want to, that was good too.

Dane isn't very vocal about his wants sometimes, you see, and I do this thing where I ask him way too many questions.

Anyway, as I lower the bar for Dane, that's when he loses it... and that's when I lose it and Ruth loses it. Sara re-lost it to the point of just going to the vehicle.

So here's the prayer request, because it was the first thought I had when I came into that room and saw and heard this woman for whom I have so much love and all other kinds of emotions in my heart: An amazing miracle would be nice... the kind where she comes back as good as she was 10 years ago, like nothing ever happened. Or... this part where her breath comes in loud gasps, and she stares off at the wall like she sees Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Bud and Aunt Deana Mae gently waving her on to their part of the universe, and all the people still here who love her listen to each gasp wondering if it will be the last while at the same time wondering if she's scared or panicked or simply wishing it would all be over... this part needs to be as short as possible. If we're talking 7 to 10 days, I vote 7 or less.

She wasn't perfect in this life. She didn't live her live without bringing pain to others. Who has? But she wasn't Hitler. She didn't go out of her way to cause pain. She tried to do the best she could with what she had where she was.

So pray everything comes back to normal in a very Deus Ex Machina sort of way, or she goes to be with the family that is waiting for her on the other side, and goes soon.

I'd appreciate it.