The Week

And so it begins, my own personal week from hell.  Every year is different, every year I approach it from far differing emotional spectrums.  But this year has been hard.

I've known it was coming, aware of its significance for a few months.  Five years since mom died, 11 for dad.  As I was closer to mom it's that particular anniversary that is haunting me more.  As I sat in a room full of writers Saturday night, my mind kept jumping "5 years from tomorrow mom went into hospice".  Five years ago today .. I called Bebo in panic, I don't remember exactly why now, but something mother did while laying in her bedroom scared me.  I didn't want to be alone when she died. Bebo left work and spent the week with me.

But that's today ... and Friday ..... and ..  tomorrow is about dad. Yes, 11 years ago he was in hospice too, had been forever it seemed.  And therein lies the contrast ... the house was filled with family, food came from church and family members.  I was never alone.  With mom .. it was Bebo and myself.  No food to help us through this time, no real support.  Don't get me wrong .. Cathie was in a nursing home and David was in Missouri.  But still, the difference was so .. stark. 

But finally, after a couple of weeks, dad passed late in the evening of October 11.  I'll never forget my cousin Theresa's face as she listened through her stethoscope.  After days of waiting for the pacemaker to give out, it had happened.  I can still see the funeral parlor's hearse in the driveway, a dark silhouette against the street lights.  Bebo, Theresa and I stood outside for a while and watched a falling star, a fitting end to a long life.  I knew my dad was happy, free from the body that had failed him, had kept him virtually a prisoner in his own home. 

So my week begins ....

Harry

May 31, 1922 - October 11, 2000