Back to the beginning of hospice

Read over some of the earlier posts for the first time since writing. Was unhappy that I didn't start documenting until a couple weeks into the process, thought it had been earlier. That said, I can't be too upset with myself, because it was more than a little busy.

As noted in other posts the VSED was something Mom & I had talked about for several years, but she always dismissed the idea. Then, as noted, her urologist started bringing up withdrawing care. This was in June. She said she needed to think about her options. I brought it up a few times and she said she still hadn't made a decision. At the beginning of August I asked again, explaining that if she was ready that was fine, but it she wasn't then I was going on a spiritual pilgrimage that was very needed; she said she wasn't ready. I started making plans & reservations. Then, a couple weeks later, we saw her internist, and I told him what the urologist had said. That's when he dropped that part about JP2 stopping all care, and that made a huge impression on her. She wanted more info, wanted me to give her a detailed schedule of what would happen and how long it would take, despite my telling her repeatedly that everyone was different. I went over to have the conversation face-to-face, but didn't think she was ready to make the decision any time soon.

I was gone for over three weeks, didn't see her in person for five days. She had an eye appointment on Oct 3, and of course I was meeting her there, it came up in conversation with the ophthalmologist that she was considering VSED, and his immediate response was 'If I was her that's what I'd do'. After the appointment I went back to the apartment, showed her some pictures, and then she calmly said 'I've decided I want to stop eating and go on hospice.' Gotta admit, that was a surprise. 

The next week is a blur, it was then, more so now, seven weeks later. There were calls to the internist to set up a meeting just about hospice, calling hospice, talking with the nursing director and several other things which escape me at the moment. All I remember was that it was non-stop, plus I was involved with the service that Sunday. I was at her house every day, she was very calmly dictating getting rid of things, reminding me of subscriptions to cancel and writing her obituary for both her residence and her college. On Sunday, with the appointment with the internist the next day, she told me she didn't want to eat dinner. (This is referenced previously.)

I so wish I'd been documenting after that appointment, but it really was incredibly busy. Hospice couldn't come out until that Thursday, we'd been anticipating either Tues or Wednesday, but apparently they were on a roll with other patients. Again, I can't remember all the details. By this point she was telling people, and her friends started dropping by to talk. It was interesting hearing about a side of her that I'd rarely seen, and she was very moved at many of the kind words. One woman said that Mom had changed her life through some of the readings and discussions in the inter-faith group she led for years; after the woman left Mom looked at me in amazement and said 'I had no idea she was so affected'. She asked me to repeat the woman's words several times, repeatedly amazed at her impact. 

The intake nurse came on Thursday, and, as previously noted, said that she wasn't comfortable pulling the Foley. This made Mom very anxious, and, as previously noted, was reversed by the nurse who came the following Monday. Hospice said they would be out twice a week, and it would increase as Mom deteriorated. I asked her about the timeline, and she said 2-3 weeks but, of course, you could never know for sure when it would happen.

My happiest memory is that Monday, so after she had been officially on hospice for only four days. She was still very much herself, looked like herself, acting normally, despite no eating for a week and only limited water. She'd gone to only wearing nightgowns, not getting dressed. There was a sale scheduled for election day, Nov 8th, that would benefit the benevolent fund, and Mom announced to me that she wanted to go through her jewelry and donate everything I didn't want to help the fund. Mom had always been an avid jewelry collector, especially necklaces and earrings. She never got her ears pierced, was so happy when I got mine done and then would buy earrings for me. But she had dozens and dozens of pairs of clip-on earrings or screw back earrings for non-pierced ears. She'd stopped wearing them years before, and they'd just sat there, she was stunned there were so many. Three jewelry boxes absolutely stuffed, then more and more office-type boxes with necklaces, and then a small cabinet. She was horrified she had that much! 'Why did I keep buying all these things?' she kept asking. She didn't remember most of them, or didn't remember why or where she had bought, I was able to fill in some blanks. There was a ring she never told me her parents had given her for graduation, although she couldn't remember if it was high school or college. It was so much fun looking through all those boxes, all those memories, all the craft festivals and trips to Europe represented in the form of jewelry. I kept more stuff than I can ever picture wearing, because when you don't work there are a limited number of times when completely accessorizing doesn't look ridiculous, and I've got a fairly extensive collection of my own. But I couldn't get rid of her favorite necklace when I was growing up, or the amber from our trip to Russia, or the gold embossed black metal from Toledo, Spain, or the foil glass from Venice, Italy.

Even with my keeping a small shopping bag full there were still hundreds of pieces to donate. I had called the woman running the sale the previous week, and she told me they would be sorting in a room upstairs. Mom was so happy when I told her how all the women exclaimed over all the boxes, couldn't believe what nice things she was donating. A couple of them said 'How did she manage to accumulate this much?' I pointed out that most women bought more than they needed, because they went with a new outfit, or were perfect for a season, or were just appealing, and that it was easy to forget how much you have when it's in several different places. 

The rest of that week we went through some other things, there was a set of postcards she had framed and really wanted to see, I found them after she was unconscious. We met with the social worker and had a lovely chat. Mom was getting weaker and weaker, sleeping more, and it finally hit me that this was going to be hard on me as she worsened. Beth & Mark had separately offered to come up from Virginia to support me, and a week into the process I decided to take them up on their kindness. Mark can work remotely, Beth at 90 yo still does an incredible amount of volunteering but told everyone she was gone for the foreseeable future. They arrived and saw Mom on the 21rst, late afternoon. Mom brightened up, gave her 'so far dying is easy' line, but only 10 minutes after their arrival announced that she wanted to nap and asked them to leave.  

And that pretty much covers what I can remember that isn't in the prior posts, which began on the 17th, 12 days before she died. This is, of course, mostly journaling for me, before the memories fade even more than they already have. 

I picked up her favorite ring from being sized on Tuesday, and have been wearing it every day. It's beautiful, and brings back good memories. On Wednesday I headed to Beth's, the first time in at least a decade that I hadn't come on Thanksgiving Day. After Mom stopped wanting to travel down to VA many years ago I would go to her place and eat dinner at noon, then drive 4+ hours to Beth's. Last year I don't know why I didn't leave Wednesday, maybe because of the cats, with COVID they weren't allowing visitors at Mom's. It felt weird to come down on Thursday, and, of course, the traffic was worse. 

It's been a lovely several days with family, enhanced by Spice being with me. He's just the best kitty, although he hates the car ride, even with medication. But he's enjoyed running around and checking out new smells and unfamiliar spaces, and has thoroughly enchanted the family members who hadn't met him. I'm hanging with friends for a couple days, then Spice & I will return home and to reality. 

Reality involves more people to contact, more paperwork to be done, more boxes to cope with, more of my stuff that needs to be sifted through and gotten rid of to make room for things of Mom's with which I'm not ready to part. I'm keeping too many things, but my position is that I'd rather get rid of things slowly than make a mistake and lose something forever. It is weird, however, as more and more of her things get incorporated into my house, which I've mentioned. It's still weird. 

Mom's reason for doing VSED

 Note: Recurring problems with router, so getting on-line has been a struggle, increasing over the last few weeks and making everything more difficult. The router was replaced, multiple 're-sets' done remotely, still problems. Today the Xfinity guy checked the cable line and found that mice had eaten holes in several places. He replaced the cable and all seems good--yeah!

Brief overall update: Mom's apartment is completely cleared, including the pieces no charity would take. Found a junk dealer to take, they will rehab and sell, then donate any money to veterans organizations. I misplaced her wallet, making it harder to cancel things. Took her favorite ring in last week and was notified that it was ready, can't wait to wear as it's a special memory. Tomorrow everything will be officially over where she lived, as I turn in the keys. 

I had a major breakdown last Monday & Tuesday, mostly involving how she looked in those last days, the difficulty watching her wither away, how brave and committed she was, and my pain that she had to make the decision because there was no other choice, details following here. I'm better now, hadn't had a really good cry since she died, it's all been non-stop, life goes on and things need to be coped with that have nothing to do with her death. People are very understanding, because this is something that, in the natural order of things, everyone goes through at some point.

As I've been telling Mom's stories to people it's been a reminder of just how much things had changed in the last five and a half years since her major fall. She was doing great until May 2017, at 87 yo, when she had already walked the equivalent of several blocks over to the Acme, speeding along with her walker, and was back in her building. She took 2 steps away from the walker to dispose of junk mail and fell, fracturing her pelvis in three places. Along with the Parkinson's and the multitude of vertebral fractures it left her bladder incapable of contracting, resulting in the in-dwelling urine catheter. Her hand arthritis had been worsening for years, she was unable to flip the lever to empty the urine bag on her own, which lead to having to move to Personal Care (less nursing staff than Assisted Living). I had already found my house, was waiting to make settlement, when she fell. That meant that even though I was closer she was no longer as able, or willing, to leave her building. There were many issues when staff didn't close her bag fully, leading to her leaking urine wherever she left, which was humiliating for her, not to mention the need to change pants and shoes. She probably would have begun slowing down, but the issues with the catheter just seemed to deflate her, she aged so quickly. She lost more and more fine motor function in her hands, she could no longer type, meaning she could no longer write, her greatest passion. 

More vertebrae collapsed, to the point that her lower ribs were in her pelvis, which necessitated a fentanyl patch for pain control. It is probable that the narcotic exacerbated her dementia, but it was a needed trade-off to control the pain. Even before the pandemic she was reluctant to leave her building, wanting the comfort of having everything she needed right there, and the embarrassment of leaking urine bags. I offered to drive her around after medical appointments, since she was already in the car, plus the one upside of the urine bag was not needing a bathroom repeatedly. But she would just want to go home, too uncomfortable to enjoy the spring green of trees budding, summer lushness or autumn's bursts of colors, all of which she had always loved. 

As has been noted by many people regarding their elders, the pandemic definitely worsened things for her. She noted that the need for the staff to empty her Foley bag several times a day at least gave her interaction with other humans, but she deteriorated mentally. Then, last year, she had two major falls. One was while getting into bed, she just didn't get her butt over far enough and fell, breaking her wrist. That meant she couldn't use her rollator, on which she was completely dependent. It was with amazement that everyone watched her work hard in PT to recover enough to return to her apartment. Then, less than six months later, she fell in the parking lot, where she'd been walking for exercise and to enjoy the sun. She fell so hard that she broke her right knee-cap and took a major shot to her head. While the CT was negative everyone agreed that she did not return to her previous mental functioning. 

By the time the waning pandemic allowed meetings she was unable to lead the inter-faith devotionals, which had been her last remaining joy, between decreasing mental abilities and profound fatigue. She complained regularly, and understandably, about being unable to do anything because she spent all her time just doing the basics. Eating was tortuous, she had stopped enjoying food even before the 2017 fall, and as the Parkinson's progressed it affected her mouth and tongue movements. Her swallowing was fine, but food would get caught in her cheeks and teeth because her tongue no longer was able to sweep things away, which meant putting her fingers in her mouth to re-position the food so she could swallow. For the past year she had increasing issues with rectal prolapse from the neurological deterioration, had to repeatedly push her rectal tissue inside, multiple times a day. And then in the past several months her speech became more and more difficult, a result of the Parkinson's. She couldn't even get Alexa to work, because her voice was so soft and indistinct that it wouldn't hear or understand her commands. Hanging over her was the knowledge that things could get worse, that another fall could break ribs, making every second pain-filled. 

Why am I listing all of these issues, even ones most people won't discuss since they involve elimination? Because this is the reality of aging in America. Her life became intolerable, her body just too deteriorated and her spirit fractured, plus she knew that it would only get worse. 

Repeatedly, she asked me how she could die, but there was no 'easy' answer. There was no chemo to stop, no insulin to take too much of, no heart problems, no dialysis. There was nothing she could do to die. All she could do was struggle through every minute of every day, able to do less and less, sleeping more and more, not taking pleasure in anything. She kept her sense of humor, even as the dementia stole her memories, but her anxiousness just went through the roof. She's always been on the anxious side, but it just got worse and worse. With the narcotic patch on for the pain and her already a major fall risk there wasn't anything to prescribe that wouldn't potentially cause more falls. We tried some of the non-benzodiazepines to no avail. Her anxiety affected every moment of her day, and it was amazing what she could find about which to be anxious, which included which tech was on, who would do her shower, if they were 5 minutes late, it they would come to empty her urine bag..... It was torture. There was no pleasure in anything, only anxiety about what the next day or next week would bring as she continued to deteriorate. 

In 10 states & DC legislation has been passed to allow for MAiD: Medical Aid in Dying. This is NOT assisted suicide, this is not Dr. Kevorkian, this is different. There are all sorts of controls in place, including that the person be within 6 months of death, be cogent, and be able to swallow pills on their own with no assistance. As you might have guessed, Pennsylvania is not one of the states where this is legal. So, for someone in Mom's situation, there is no choice. Short of a desperate measure of suicide there is no alternative, except for VSED: Voluntary Stoppage of Eating & Drinking. 

I'd mentioned this to Mom a few years ago, but she hadn't gotten to that point. Then the urologist told her that she could stop the catheter changes. This would cause urinary retention, leading to infection and kidney failure, she would die of urosepsis. He mentioned it in February and again in June during urgent visits regarding her catheter. We brought it up to her internist, part of Mom's concern was if it was suicide, which is against her Baha'i religion. The internist faced her and asked 'Do you remember Pope John Paul 2? Do you remember that he had Parkinson's? He got to a point of suffering that he stopped all treatments, and then stopped eating & drinking. And if the Pope did it, it can't be a sin.' Much to my surprise for a non-Catholic this made a huge impact on her, and she started considering it more and more. 

After several weeks Mom announced to me that she wanted to stop all treatment and go on hospice. She had found a way to look at it that worked for her 'I want to stop everything that is keeping me alive.' This might be considered dancing on the edge, but I think she was really on to something--not active, but a passive approach. 

There's more to say, but it's almost time for bed, since trying to get up earlier to drive to my cousin's for  Thanksgiving. I don't know when I'll be able to post again, and I don't know if this is ever going to be read by anyone, or help anyone. But it enables me to phrase things in black and white that will help when trying to verbalize in other situations. 

If someone has something nasty or unpleasant to say, please don't bother posting anything. I'm writing this for me, and in hopes it will help someone. If it doesn't resonate with you that's fine, just go read something else. 

Alone, for the first time

Beth left today, after being with me for three weeks. We cleared out almost everything in Mom's apartment, so it's just the things no charity will take: the particle board bookshelves & computer desk. In the last week I started the paperwork, filed with Register of Wills, cancelled more subscriptions & her phone, had her mail forwarded (or it will be in 2 weeks), registered with IRS for an Estate Identification Number. If it hadn't been Veterans Day with banks & PO closed would have gotten more done, but might as well have something to do Monday. (Eye roll here, as what I really want to do is absolutely nothing for at least 2 days, plus still need to get my flu shot.) All that remains in the apartment are the necessities needed in case of being there a couple hours waiting for a pick-up: an old office chair that will be trashed, towel & soap in the bathroom (leaving some TP, of course), small microwave. Was able to stop at the really good pharmacy and find a better device for my knee, which is still hurting. 

So, now I'm alone for the first time since Mom died. I had a good cry, which was a first because I was just too busy before and don't like to cry in front of people. My thought was that, having stored it up for two weeks, the sobbing would go on for a while, but it was weirdly short. I'm really not sure why, but having a sneaking suspicion it will recur. People tell me that, especially following their mother's death, the loss never completely goes away and periodic crying will be the norm for a while. 

There are more of her things which have been incorporated in my house, and it's just weird seeing them here. Like the cross stitch sampler I made for her in high school which proclaims 'Each dawn is a new beginning', it's temporarily replacing a painting in the living room. She had it hung so it could be seen from her bed every morning, and my thought is to do the same. One year on my birthday she bought me a wood duck figure, but she loved it so much I just let her keep it, it's on my bookshelf with good memories, but seems out of place. Much of her cobalt blue glass collection is on top of the bookcase, my front bedroom has a real bureau and her favorite lamp. It's a jolt to see all these things I so associate with her home now in mine. I know that as time goes on they will be a comfort, but right now it just seems wrong. How long before the 'comfort' emotion kicks in, rather than the confusion they currently create?

I keep looking at the pile of boxes in the dining room area with things that either I couldn't bear to throw out yet, have a need for or are just plain nostalgic. As said before: I'm being very gentle with myself, as tomorrow it will only be two weeks since her death. I've been grieving the loss of my mother due to the ravages of old age and disease for years, but was still able to talk with her and get a big smile in greeting. I'm so very glad we had those final weeks together, because it changed our relationship for the better. That was the real blessing in all of this, one which many people aren't able to receive. 

Yet, the truth is that my Mom is dead, and that is still very new and (repeated word) surreal.

A week and a day

 It was a week yesterday. Went to Fellowship today and was enveloped by hugs, condolences and offers of help when needed. While I never liked to ask for help 'before sick' and still struggle to admit the need, there is also the recognition that it includes opening up and being vulnerable. For someone who puts up a lot of walls that's something I need to work on, so this is the time. 

I can't say I feel a lot different. It comes in flashes, as others have said. I'm making more references to her, things she liked or said, Beth has been very patient with the frequent stories. I wore one of her nightgowns last night, didn't realize until this morning how threadbare it is at the shoulders and around the neck, such as in holes in the fabric and significant thinning. So that gets tossed, because that's when you need to be realistic. It's going to be different for me because, as even before the pandemic, we would go weeks at a time without seeing each other. We would talk once a week, and occasionally in-between, but we led pretty separate lives. Mom was happy in her world, and I didn't need her in mine. That's sad, isn't it? 

But she was there. She was a good listener, when she made the time. She was good at giving suggestions, rarely stating an opinion, as opposed to me who tells anyone what my opinion is, whether asked or not. She was good at giving another point of view. And she understood references to people from my past, or did until a few years ago. With her dies witness to much of my personal history, and that was unique. We liked a lot of the same things: ovals, scenery, craft shows, cobalt blue glass. 

Her favorite picture of herself from where she lived is the one I printed out in multiple sizes, including on the altar in my bedroom. It's how I want to remember her, with a big smile on her face, a ready smile or laugh. Not what my last memories are, especially the last week when she was so shriveled, her eyes and cheeks so sunken, her veins and bones more and more prominent. That is not the mother, or the person, I want to remember, and my hope is that with more time & distance the last month, and even the last years, will fade from memory, and the other memories will become stronger. 

Tomorrow starts the legal stuff, hope that the funeral home already notified Social Security, but need to do that tomorrow, and go to the Register of Wills. The lawyer who wrote Mom's last will retired several years ago, so I'm going to try and do without one. Am very grateful for my savings account, because that is how the funeral home is getting paid. It makes me appreciate that, while not wealthy in any degree, at least I'm financially stable. I include that in the counting of my blessings. 

Signing off, as trying to get to bed by midnight. There are also the prosaic things, such as finding a carpenter to fix my unstable front step and the door to the crawl space that is rotted. And my yearly appointment with the pulmonary hypertension specialist at Temple on Tuesday, which will suck most of the energy for that day out of me. Beth would like to be released, and who can blame her? She's closing in on 3 weeks here with me, and she wants to be in her home.

Two days after burying my Mom

 Yesterday was just non-stop.  Went back to storage, fought to get my grandfather's bed into my car (ok, Mark fought), then to Habitat For Humanity (H4H), which took way longer than you'd think. Then had to make separate trip with the 4-drawer. Then back to apartment. Finally got a hold of billing, and it turns out that they give you 30 days to get everything out, which means it didn't all have to be done now. (When moved Mom from upstairs to Personal Care it was a very short period, like 5 days, to get her out, so with no one answering my emails assumed it was less than 2 weeks.) On the plus side it gave me something else to concentrate on rather than crying. Then, on Beth's suggestion, called PT and they took a huge amount of the things out, followed by nursing service which took all the medical supplies. HUGE relief. But tiring. Mark fixed the shelves that collapsed in the days before Mom died, but have to re-arrange everything. He also fixed the sink drain, which was a huge help, but again my shoving things everywhere means more stuff to cope with. I have got to get rid of stuff.

I'm realizing that I'm freaking out way more than usual because it just seems like everything is happening so fast and my Mom just died. How do people work and go through this? Or raise a family at the same time, especially with little kids?

Today up about 7am, out the door with meal prepared yesterday. Rob, a friend from Fellowship, came & helped Mark move things to my storage, which is way too full since couldn't find any way to quickly get a large china cabinet out. Still coping with all the small stuff, H4H came about 11:15 (if I'd been late at 8:00 am sure they would have been there at 8:10....), they didn't take everything. Mark & I loaded my car, run to Green Drop and they wouldn't take filing cabinet, so then drove to a scrap metal place since the thing was already in my car. Then another run to Green Drop. Then back to apartment for more stuff......And it's just decision after decision after decision. Being an only child has it's good points and bad points: no one else to have to negotiate with, but no one else to share the load. 

This is what most people go through, just warning you.

I'm exhausted, strung out, snappy. My right knee started hurting a few days ago and has gotten worse, and I know it's just from over-use. I've been non-stop since Aug 29, then was away in Sept, came back and Mom wanted to go on hospice. Usually, I schedule at least 2-3 days completely at home every week, and that hasn't happened in 2 months. 

Mark left today, but I told Beth I needed night and weekend off to recuperate. There is no rush now, and because Beth & Mark have been so efficient we are way ahead of schedule in clearing out. That said, my house is now piled with stuff. I'm keeping way too much of her things, but I just don't want to let too much go and then regret, figure can always get rid of things later. And for someone used to spending a lot of time alone there is just the stress of sharing a house, which is no one's fault, and I'm so fortunate to have them. But life keeps on, you don't get an excuse from all the other things that happen.

Much as I wanted to not leave the house all tomorrow it seems prudent to get my flu shot. Usually I get it on Halloween, so can remember date, but obviously that didn't happen this year. So, that means side effects on Monday. And next week have to get to canceling stuff, have only done paper and one magazine so far. And there's the Register of Wills, and coping with Social Security, and filing for an estate number for taxes. If there isn't a list to follow there should be, just to know what you have in store. And so little can be done ahead of time. 

You hear stories about this, but it doesn't make it any easier. Am hoping with tomorrow off, limited side effects from flu shot, and hopefully a going to Fellowship on Sunday that I'll have a chance to recalibrate. Because right now I feel somewhat out of control. 

Buried my mother today

 That's such a flatly weird statement to type, and it only happens once in a lifetime. (Don't get picky about stepmoms!) Yesterday was non-stop, today not as bad, slower now in early evening.

Yesterday: still making phone calls, still haven't heard response from emails about charges on apartment while clearing out. Then got ready to go to BuxMont for interment of my friend Carol's ashes (whole other story), which was lovely but, of course, stressful. Then to my storage, to pull out lots of stuff while waiting for Mark. He was with Beth at Mom's apartment, sorting stuff, and sending pictures. Here's a tip: you need pictures in order to schedule a Habitat for Humanity (H4H from now on) donation pick up. Mark arrived at storage after I'd moved a bunch of stuff out of the way (have been getting rid of things, but clearly not quickly enough), then we fought to get my grandfather's bed into my car, couldn't get the small chest in his. Then dropped that off at H4H, drove up to Mom's where Beth had been efficiently organizing all day. I'm keeping too much stuff, but being gentle with myself, because I can always donate it later, but once it's gone it's gone.

Yesterday evening I spoke with R, a Baha'i who Mom wanted to do the service. For years, nay, decades, whenever the subject of her funeral was brought up Mom would say 'Oh, the Bahais will handle everything.' I spoke with R two weeks ago at Mom's, he showed me the part of the service that is obligatory. I asked 'So, you'll handle everything?' He said 'Yes, I'm happy to handle all this.' So, imagine my surprise when he tells me that 'everything' to him meant the obligatory prayer, but not anything else. He has no service, it's just that one piece for 3-4 mins. 

I've been a worship leader at BuxMont for years, and have decades of experience in public speaking from lecturing, plus, as an EoL Doula, I'm hoping to do memorial and interment services, because I love designing spiritual rituals. But no, only 15 hours before my mother's service, I wasn't prepared when this was said. 

Fortunately, because I'd planned on saying something, my minster lent me the book he's put together for doing funerals and such. (Did I mention before that my minister was not just supportive of my becoming an EoL Doula, but downright thrilled?! Ecstatic would not be too strong a word!) We'd worked together on Carol's ashes interment, and I'd really liked several passages that he'd included, he generously lent me his book. So, at least I wasn't working from nothing. 

About 2 hours later R calls back and says another member of their community does, in fact, have a service she can use, with readings & prayers. But maybe 10 minutes worth? Here's my philosophy: if someone is going to take time out of their busy schedule, drive an hour to & from, they deserve something memorable. Started working with my minister's words, and didn't take much to do some minor re-vamping. It did, however, take time & energy. As did going through my mom's jewelry for pieces Beth & I could wear. 

This morning woke at 9:00, did stuff (Can never figure out what eats up 40 mins....), washed hair, dressed, Beth, Mark & I got out the door. We'd realized it would be wise to have something to serve after the burial, but what? I got water, cider and GF cookies (because if I'm bringing them they're gonna be gluten free!). Yesterday Mark had picked up 2 dozen long stemmed flowers at my request. Brought other Baha'i stuff that Beth had found in various places around apartment. (My comment to R was that this might be the only burial in history where funeral favors were given out!)

Arrived at cemetery to find hearse, and that Mom's coffin was already in place over the hole, with the freshly dug dirt next to the opening. This is a 'green burial cemetery' in every way except they use a small backhoe to dig the grave, to be a 'real' green cemetery it has to be hand dug. Seriously? 

It was bizarre to think of my mother's tiny body in that wood casket (hard wood, no nails, as per Baha'i protocol), so I just didn't, which, while not an approved coping mechanism has it's place in the short term. Instead, got out the 8x10 photo that I'd wisely had printed last week before her death, put the frame on top of the casket. Next to it I put my kitty Tabitha's ashes, along with a picture of her & Mom. If you read back to 2015 you will find my memorial to Tabitha, including that she happily lived as an only cat for her last three and a half years with Mom. I've got 5 other cat's ashes to go into the ground with me, not including Spice, so it made sense to have Tabitha keep Mom company. 

Sonja, from the funeral home, gave me the copies of the death certificates (guess they should be checked, although they sent me the info to make sure), and the little cards you get at funerals. It was as had been designed, a pastoral scene with a gate on the front, then a small pic of Mom with her dates, favorite Baha'i prayer (fortunately short), and the Baha'i 9-pointed star. It didn't register much with me. Arranged the flowers in 2 vases, waited for others to come. The weather was perfect: sunny, 70 degrees, only a few clouds. 

A few more people arrived, total of 8 of us. S, who had a Baha'i service, had come with printed out copies of prayers, on paper with pretty designs and personalized with Mom's name and the date. The prayers were divided up amongst those who wished to read (my Mom's closest friend was too emotional, the writing was difficult for Beth to read on a background with design, and I was doing other stuff), S & I figured out when my part would come.

The Baha'i prayers are nice, a bit too flowery for my taste, and they aren't personal. So, what I said, thanks in no small part to Kevin's choices, was more about her, that she had enriched our lives, that her memory would live on, that she was returning to the earth from whence all life comes. Surprisingly, I made it through several minutes only choking up a couple times. Then, the final obligatory prayer was read, and the casket was lowered into the hole.

That made it real, seeing the coffin with my mother's remains lowered into the earth, looking farther than 6 feet down, and I started to quietly cry. Beth gently put her arm around me and hugged, which helped. After the coffin was lowered, and the straps and mechanics around the hole taken away, I asked for those present to talk about Mom, share memories or stories, and when they did so to then toss a flower on top of her coffin, so that she would be covered in happy memories. And then I told everyone why my mother had been buried with a spoon.

Can't remember where it appeared, maybe Reader's Digest? The story went that an elderly woman died, and a spoon was in her hand at the open casket. The minister explained that this lady had always loved the pot-luck and community meals that had been shared, and remembered that every time when the dishes were being cleared you would be told 'Save your spoon! The best is yet to come!', and then dessert would be brought. And the woman loved that thought: you have died, but the best is yet to come. My mother loved this story, it was referenced over and over, although not in the last several years. But when she was still cogent I reminded her, and asked if she'd like to be buried with a spoon. Her face lit up as she excitedly exclaimed 'Yes!' It was a regular spoon, one she'd used hundreds of times before, just as it would be if it was for dessert. Everyone loved the story, so suspect there will be more burials with spoons. 

Other people related memories & stories, and we also threw in flowers for those who were unable to attend, and I poured Tabitha's ashes in, concentrating on approximately where I thought Mom's lap would be located. Then I asked to do the Jewish custom of throwing dirt in. Sonja explained that the closest relative had to start, and the dirt needed to be on the back of the shovel, because that was harder, and it symbolized that you were willing to do something hard as your last service to your loved one. Then others added more dirt, and we walked to the gazebo for visiting, cider & cookies. Honestly, it couldn't have gone better. 

Beth, Mark & I then went to a restaurant where Mom & I used to like to eat, although it's been several years. We had an excellent meal, then I reached for my wallet and saw one of those memorial cards with her picture. For a split second it flashed through my mind 'oh, that's only for people who have died', and then it hit me anew and I started sobbing, right in the restaurant. People tell me that's going to keep happening, that the grief doesn't hit you when you are expecting it, but shows up in odd moments when you don't have your defenses up.

At home, lots still to do. More clearing out to be done, H4H hasn't given us a time Friday, not even if morning or afternoon. A friend & Mark will move things to storage on Friday. Tomorrow morning I'll try to narrow down H4H times, and notify long term care insurance. Need to talk to billing dept, they haven't responded to my email. Still have to call her college roommate; her cousins, with whom she only corresponded once a year, will have to wait. Beth thinks the apartment will be cleared out by Friday afternoon, I'm not so sure, but need to check and see if they'll stop charging then, or if it goes through the weekend, or if they'll let me take things out since they'll have to re-do the whole apartment. Hoping to crump Friday night & Saturday, then next week will be paperwork. 

While tired think I'm still running on adrenalin, because it's been non-stop. Starting Oct 3, when Mom told me of her decision, I was with her every day. She stopped eating Oct 9, hospice officially started 13th, and the next two weeks she deteriorated, with the final days being a vigil. Then she died, and so many things needed to be done right away. In hindsight the only thing I could have done better was have cleared out my storage, which has been on my 'to-do' list for years. I've made real progress, but needed furniture moved, so that's holding things up at this point. But the end of the madly busy stuff is almost over, and then reality is going to hit because there won't be as much to distract me.

Grieving, as will be said repeatedly, is a process, and I know this. But, I've never lost my mother before, so this is different.