Welcome! Spread out your towel and bask in the glory of our Stress Pool.
The sun is shining (sometimes - here in Pittsburgh, not as often as one might like), days are getting warmer, birds are chirping, and the students are squirming in their seats, anxious for the school year to be over. Another month yet, kiddos, and then we'll all be free! Even here at the Stress Pool, life is moving along at quite a clip, albeit uneventful, and we're all grateful for that.
It's been awhile since the last posting. Big Brother and DiDi have been having fun with the new little one - and he's a cutie. Can't wait for summer so I can see more of him - and them, of course! Morticia and The Doctor are planning a wedding for next May. Looking forward to finalizing some of those details with her this summer, too. Always exciting, right? A fairy garden theme is what she wants. It will be at the National Aviary, and will be quite wonderful, I'm sure. Ms. Business is zipping right along toward her future goals. She finished her Associates degree in Business, and is almost half-way through the Dental Hygiene program at Pitt. Moink is still recovering from the concussion he got three years ago - but there are some small improvements. Through it all, he's not lost his sense of humor, and has some really good ideas for stories. Everyone should have the opportunity to follow their dreams - or at least, try!
DH is planning for his (2nd) retirement. We've decided to go south, but not permanently. We'll get an apartment not far from the beach, and we'll come and go as we'd like. He's getting ready, but this is another story for another time.
Then, there's Mima. She's had a rough winter in Senior Prison. She'd barely get over one illness when another would strike. I thought for sure we were going to lose her a few weeks ago, and even went so far as to call Big Brother and Morticia.
I had seen her on a Sunday afternoon. Her hands were cold as ice, and she was shivering. She didn't seem like herself. Monday morning I called them. "You haven't been to see Mima for awhile. I don't think she's going to last much longer." I couldn't get it out without crying. They assured me they would visit.
I stopped to see her that Thursday night before choir practice. She looked a little better than she had on Sunday, and I told her that. She nodded, as if in agreement. "Morticia came to see me on Monday, and came back again yesterday morning."
"Oh yeah," I casually said.
"Big Brother came on Tuesday."
"Huh. That was nice."
She gave me the hairy eyeball. "What did you do, call and tell them I was dying?"
My mouth flapped open and shut. "What? I wouldn't do that! I reminded them they haven't seen you for a long time. Guess it worked." What Mima doesn't know won't hurt her. While she can't get out of bed, I still have a little fear - you know the kind, brought on by the power God infused in all mothers, and it never goes away.
But, that Sunday, the day I realized her time here on earth might soon end, she asked me to brush her hair. I went back in time to when I was little, and she would brush out my long hair after a bath. It took everything within me not to burst into tears as I lovingly tried to work out the tangles and braid her thin locks into Princess Leia side buns. Her hair isn't quite that long, but you get the idea. I did it again for her last week. I suck at hair. Hairstylists have told me that, and the braided buns sort of droop. But, it's a simple act of love I can give back to this woman who gave so much of herself to us for so long. I would have brushed it again this past Sunday, but instead watched her sleep for most of our visit. Her mind and her tongue are both still sharp as a whip, but she's fading -sleeping more, and eating less.
At one point, she looked at me and said, "He's waving to you." Her voice is low, and it's hard to hear what she's saying.
"Who's waving, mom?"
She chuckled, closed her eyes. "He's waving."
"Well, I can't see him, so I don't have to wave back."
I don't know who 'he' was, but I sure hope he's a friend - or maybe Eggbert. I would like to think he'd come and help lead her home. I kissed her, told her I'd be back one night this week, and left.
I barely made it to the car before sobbing. Sure, I know, she's 84 - but no matter how prepared you are, you're never ready. So, we continue to perform simple acts of love, acts that let the other person know your life never would have been the same without them. A lesson for all of us, I think - to do things for those we love on a daily basis, no matter how small the act.
Thanks for visiting. Come on back, I'll make sure the water is just the right temperature, and there will be plenty of ice for our beverages of choice! But, please don't ask me to do anything with your hair. Really. You have no idea.
