More Mom Smell on the Way!

I hope you won't find this alarming but weeks and weeks go by without my sister Joann and I talking.  Or even emailing.  Or texting. 

This doesn't diminish our closeness, which may sound odd, but we were never based in frequency of contact; we've always been based in intensity of contact and with that as our fuel, we have enough in the tank to last several lifetimes. 

In many ways I think my sister's life, as it is mirroring Mom's, is just beginning.  Probably everyone who reads Mom's blog knows her well enough to know that when Mom married Daddy, the eloped to Baltimore and when they returned to Steubenville to announce the news, Daddy moved right in with Mom and her folks. 

There was no separateness. 

There was no "go off and begin your lives together."

There was no independence.

And for Mom and Daddy, that worked pretty darn well.

Pooge and Bill have never had anything nearly as, well, comingled as that unless you count the time Mom and Daddy moved in with them in their house on Coral Way down in the Pink Streets in South St. Pete.  I think that gave them a taste of what was to come, with all of us just being certain in the way that family members are, without having to discuss it, that Mom and Dad would eventually move in with Pooge and Bill when the time came that they needed that certain amount of help. 

Mom and Dad gave me a set of luggage for my 16th birthday; I was not the chosen one.  58th Avenue was mine, the neighborhood was mine and beyond that, they also gave me the world. 

Joann had luggage - strawberry red Samsonite - but they wouldn't let her actually go anywhere.  Go figure. 

But Pooge never wanted the world and I'm not sure she even wanted all of 58th. 

She has always been very very content in her own yard.  I'm content in someone else's yard. 

See the difference?

Mom lived with Pooge and Bill for the last couple of years of her life, and although that amount of time pales in comparison with the decades Mom and Dad lived with Mom's folks, there comes, after a time, an equivalency that is difficult to explain.

It's like Dog years, only different.

The effort, the worry, the angst, the tracking of pills, the following of doctor instructions, the managing of care; all of that dominated Pooge's life for years before the time came that Mom actually moved in with Pooge and Bill. 

Pooge said that it might well be easier to take care of Mom once she finally did move in, and I think that proved to be true.

Mom's life didn't really start to unfold before her with a road long enough and of her own design that she could finally be independent, her own person, until her parents, one by one, died.  Mom always said she didn't mourn her folks' passing, that she'd spent all the time and done all the deeds she felt she could, or anyone could. 

Her service to them was the very thing that freed her in the end.

So with Mom gone, Pooge is as busy as can be, figuring out what she'll do and how she'll do it.  She's too busy and so am I for us to spend a bunch of time on the phone.  I know when she needs me, she'll call.  She knows if I need her, I'll call.  We're on a "need to know" basis and it works great. 

In fact, that's exactly how we've run it for a really long time, since well before I opened the studio in 2001, but with Mom as a factor we talked more than our own needs dictated. 

Pooge always did a fantastic job of keeping me informed and helping me feel included in Mom's life and with her care once she became ill. 

Joann's "to do" list has always lengthy and very interesting and I'm so glad she's finally got time to pursue her own interests and that she doesn't have to worry about Mom anymore.  I'm not sure I can truly appreciate what a relief that must be.

Anyway, in addition to all that, tonight I'm also thinking how at some point after I posted to Mom's blog last week (I'm getting pretty regular with these Monday posts, have you noticed?) Pooge texted that she had some things that still smell like Mom and asked if I wanted her to send them.

Yes, I do.

So, BasicallyBetty.com keeps me connected to you, Mom's readers who she willed to me as her most treasured possession, but it also keep me connected to my sister.

I like that about the internet.  So did Mom.

It all just goes to show you, there is immense truth and honor in what our dear and deeply loved cousin Ruth Jean always said . . . "nobody said we all have to be alike."

Right on, 441, right on!

Love and Prayers From Here to There