Simplicity

 Is this it, is this the last time?  Reality says "yes,"  my hope says "well...maybe."  Mom wants to go to Puerto Rico.  She has always talked about going with Lilly, it just didn't ever happen.  Lilly is almost an adult now, well technically she already is at 20 years old.  She can make her own decisions about going, and her decision was a yes.   Mom's still in the fight, but the uphill battle against cancer is getting steeper and steeper.  Every day she loses some small aspect of her independence.  Sometimes she is fine with it, other times she acts out.  I have to remind myself that she is in the process of losing and letting go, it helps me tap into more patience and correct my own attitude.  We leave in 2 weeks, all but one of us.  Travis is not going.  Mom always said he wasn't interested in going, but I asked anyway.  Cris and her crew will just stay for 4 days.  Art, Mom and I will stay for a wh...

Establishing healthy boundaries hurts....it hurts even more when someone else is enforcing them on you.  The rebel in me wants to rise up and tell them to buzz off saying "I'm gonna do what I'm gonna do, you ain't the boss of me!"  But .....I can't deny they are right.  The thing about laying down a healthy boundary is that there was an unhealthy one there to begin with.  It may have been there for years, for generations.  It may have been lying beneath the soil unseen until a sudden circumstantial breeze uncovers it.  It may be one that despite causing chaos, it may also bring comfort in the moment in some crazy, illogical way.  I'm going through a season of where words spoken in frustration are causing the havoc of circumstantial breezes uncovering an unhealthy boundary.  I chastise myself for not keeping my mouth shut, but it's been a long weary season of running on fumes and the words that usually get caught in my own self-imposed filter, made...

I clipped my dad's toenails yesterday. Every time I go over to my parent's house next door, which is a minimum of 4-5 times a week, I look at my dad's feet.  His circulation is starting to not be as effective as it used to be, so I have gotten into the habit of looking down to make sure the blood isn't pooling in his lower extremities.  You often hear me say, "Dad your feet are turning blue, put them up to help your circulation."  While doing these feet checks, I have noticed that his toe nails have gotten longer and longer.  I have secretly been waiting for my sister to notice them and maybe she would cut them, but she lives far away doesn't make it to this side of town often. Yesterday, I could not pretend I didn't see it any more.  I mentioned how long they were and asked who cut them last time.  I knew it was my sister but as his memory was going, he said the nail salon.  He said he can't reach his feet anymore and pointed to the clippers...

After a year of trying to get both our feet and my parents feet underneath us/them, everything has fallen into place for the changes undergoing the house I grew up in.  I'm glad it has been a slow process, everyone needed that time to adapt at a pace we could all tolerate.  God's timing is perfect. Four weeks ago, Arthur and I went to our lawyer's officer to sign the paperwork to transfer the property into our name.  After multiple discussions with my sister and parents, this is where the path lead.  I asked Mom and Dad if they wanted to go, but they said to just use my Power of Attorney.  Three weeks ago I started in the second to the last room to pack and sort, Mom and Dad's bedroom while Art did some light demo.  One week ago, Doug, our trusted contractor started.   As of today, the dumpster will be dropped off in the driveway.  We have had the contractor, tree guys, electrical, home inspector, fence guy, exterminators, and AC guys all c...

The phone rang.  I picked up to hear Mom's voice on the line "Gloria, come over here, I can't wake up your father."  As I ran out my back door, through the gate, and into my parent's back door.  I yelled "where is he?" Mom, standing in front of the recliner, pointed to him.  I ran to him and he was motionless.  Eyes closed, headed drooped forward, no visible signs of life.  I touched his arm, it was cold.  I tried to find a pulse, I put my hands on either side of his face and he was ice cold.  Pale.  I stepped back and said "Mom, he's gone."  She cried out "No! No! We just talked about this last night!"  Her hands flew to her face.  My physical step back and hearing my Mom cry out was a mental reset out of daughter mode and into nurse mode, a voice in my head said call 9-1-1.  I ran for the phone and dialed.  As the phone rang, I tried for a pulse again and Mom yelled "look!"  We saw Dad's chest rise and fall. I ...