This is so hard...

Dad and I seem to be unofficially taking turns sitting by moms side and holding her hand, so I brought my laptop to write a bit when dad is with her.

Yesterday we were at UMass hospital with her until 4, and then she got transferred to a hospice. The day was a blur…figuratively and literally. I cry an awful lot, no surprise there, and it’s also just been such a whirlwind of events.

Transit from India to home took 30 hours, and involved 4 separate flights, with the longest one being a 15 hour stretch from Delhi to Newark. As I sat there, on this massive plane barreling towards America, I couldn’t help but cry, thinking about mom and hoping I would get there in time. And on this huge plane, where we are all packed in like sardines, not a single person spoke to me or even noticed that I was crying. NOT that I would have wanted to talk at length about what was happening, but it made me feel isolated and alone.

Of course, I did make it home in time, and mom opened her eyes and recognizes us all. She can move her left hand somewhat, and so will grip our hand in hers with strength I didn’t expect her to have. She drifts in and out, in part because of the stroke, and also the pain medication.

Last night, dad and I went home (to Princeton) to sleep. They have given us the option of sleeping at the hospice, and I was tempted to do so…but was also certain that I needed to stay with dad. I hadn’t slept in 3 days, and I was exhausted. It was so terrible to be leaving mom at the end of the night. I worried that she would die without either of us by her side, and somehow that just seemed awful. However…we are here with her now, and she is the same as yesterday, so my fears were unfounded.

At the house, dad and I walk in to what used to be “the norm”. Notes, to-do lists, journals, newspaper clipping all over the kitchen table…all collected or written by mom. These formerly innocuous things now have the power of a freight train hitting you. You see her everywhere. Her handwriting, her labeled things (she labels everything…pens, light switches, books, mail, leftovers…you name it, it’s got a date and instructions on it), her general sense of organization and enthusiasm. The fridge is covered with family photos, and dad and I stood there quietly looking at them all together.

This morning, he took his daily medications out of a container that mom had put together…you know, the ones with the day of the week and then separate compartments for Am, Noon, PM. And he got choked up as he took his pills out, saying that mom had put everything in there for him, so that he’d know what to take and when.

Breakfast included some pumpkin bread that mom had made last week. It was incredible. She had pre cut all of the slices, and then divided them up and put 2 slices each into small sandwich bags…to keep each serving fresh, I guess.

There’s a whole box full of information she had either amassed or created about my trip…a section for my mail, my bank deposits (that she was making), my trip itinerary, details on a calendar about what I had done each day (according to my emails and blog posts), and an assortment of scribbled notes on pieces of paper with things she wanted to tell me about in her next email.

So I walk around the house, quietly weeping. Eventually, dad and I will need to go thru things and sort stuff out. He has already mentioned that in the last few weeks, mom had begun to put things aside for the salvation army. For some reason, the energy that she was putting into it surprised him, and looking back at those weeks, he wonders if perhaps she had a premonition about what was going to happen. She had updated important papers, sent people things, made a detailed list of what needed to be done around the house and yard, and was suddenly keeping a new journal- writing about what she’d done, the weather, information to relay to others about this or that, and anecdotes about the cat.

At some point, I will need to go to the Oakham house to get some clothes (half of what I am wearing right now belongs to Tina, as I was dressed for 100 degrees and it is quite clearly NOT 100 degrees here), hug the dogs, and come back. Nothing really matters right now except being with mom.