Two Weeks Today

It's been two weeks today since mom died. 

Plans for her St. Pete service on 12/20 are coming together, Pooge has been fielding all the calls/emails/inquiries while also getting mom's apartment transformed into its new incarnation.  All the while, she's finding her way into her new independence. 

Going out for lunch is nothing shy of a revelation when you've been a primary care giver for so very long.  Freedom is a wonderful thing and I'm so happy Joann can finally have personal discretion over her days and nights.  From someone who's known nothing but, I imagine this is the most amazing aspect of her current reality.

I've just finished presenting at an educational conference down in Phoenix and am busy planning my next road trip to Madrid to teach at the beginning of December.

The workshop I just presented was mostly what I worked on while I spent those few weeks in North Carolina with mom over the summer and fall.  I had my favorite picture of her out on my podium while I was presenting so I could keep her close. 

I held together really well all weekend long until Sunday morning when, at the end of a 5 day slog, I was up at 5 and in the expo hall by 6:30, pressed the flesh til the expo closed at 10, then rushed back to the room to pack everything up in time to clear the room for the noon check out.  I had a couple of voice mails so I put my phone on speaker to hear them - that way I could keep shoving stuff into bags - and you know how you have to resave messages when they time out? 

Well, I had to listen to an old message and deal with it before I could hear my new messages and the old message was from mom, from May 13th, calling late at night to tell me that her Rays had beat the Yankees twice and were now 2 games ahead of Boston. 

As soon as I heard her voice, I burst into tears.  Heidi, my dear teaching partner and roommate on this trip who was also frantically packing, burst into tears. 

Mom was in tears, too, on the message. 

She was so happy her team beat those Yanks and were edging ahead of those evil Red Sox.  She said not to call her back - mom was always so respectful of my time - that she'd be going to bed soon but that she wanted me to know the great news. 

I have a bunch of other voice mails from her saved.  One queued up for resaving the day after she died.  I cried hearing that one, too. 

The one I have from her giving me the play by play on what transpired the night a bat flew into her apartment and Bill had to come over and get it out is absolutely hilarious.  I just might send the audio to James for him to build into mom's memorial service multimedia show . . . you weren't expecting anything less, were you? 

She wouldn't and we won't let her down.

Love and prayers from here to there.