Yesterday, after four months of teetering in-between, K's mom died peacefully at home, with him and one of his sisters by her side.
She was ready months ago, announced it. Last month, on the phone, she told K it would be the next day. He reminded her that he was coming to see her. "When will you get here? You might want to leave earlier!" She was so disappointed when it didn't happen- closing her eyes tight, holding her daughter's hand for ten minutes, and then opening her eyes and being so surprised she was still here.
I met her when I was sixteen. She was an opinionated woman who loved her family, with a strong faith, a kindergarten teacher, a good grandma, and she didn't compromise. We were not always easy for each other. Maybe because we were so alike in many ways, K's dad used to say so. We did share a sense of humor. She loved a good laugh.
During our visit over the holidays, she was mostly unresponsive, but the day we were leaving she perked up- knowing who the boys were and telling them that she loved them, calling me "sweetie". She saw a ceiling full of birds and people above the trees. I hope they were old friends.
(The wall hanging and rug are weavings she made for us years ago.)
