Memories of Mother | In the Company of Women

Remembering my mother, who died a year ago this week. One of the poetry prompts for this week was “When I see my mother”; I am having difficulty writing a poem in response. Perhaps I could combine it with the prompt for the next day, “I am to blame”, and explore that in various aspects.

I still have the poster-sized photo montages (all 7, from Mother’s and Father’s memorial services) out in the front room, where I can see one or another. Oddly, that lessens feelings of loss. Provides a companionability and a lifting of the heart.

Stray Coffee Breaks

My mother, Rhoda Elleen Berry Wicker, died in the early evening, two days ago. It was two months after she went from home to emergency department by ambulance, after a fall, and then from hospital to nursing home, under the care of Hospice. I had the medical power of attorney, and Mother was not happy when my sister-in-law called me for the EMTs, to give them permission to transport her 25 miles to the nearest ER/hospital here in Fargo, where Al and I live. Not too much later, she no longer recognized me, but thought that I was her sister Alberta.

When she died, it had been some time since I had visited her room and found her awake, although I know she had interacted with staff throughout the past week. There was no marked decline noted by staff; she slipped away, just quit breathing. And nobody would have noticed…

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Garden Perspectives | Weekly Photo Challenge: Scale

Poppy & Hoverfly

The weekly photo challenge on WordPress for the week is : Scale. “Experiment with placement and scale to show how big (or small) you can feel in a photo.” Not having any depths or heights, I have chosen photographs of hoverflies in relation to their flowers and to the garden as a whole.

The Art of Disorder

The seven photographs were taken from various distances in my backyard wildflower garden in July of 2017. I marvel at how beautiful the hoverfly is in detail in the close-up photos.

In these three photos, the flower is a blue wild flax (perennial), and it’s not the same hoverfly. (The other one flew away and didn’t return.)

In response to the 11 October 2017 WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge: Scale.

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Still missing her

Remembering my mother’s entering the Care Center a little more than a year ago. I think this is not a letting go, so much as it’s being okay to look at it, again. It was a painful loss. As was Samantha’s death early in 2016. Two close family members gone. And since, too many more.

The Moments Between

In the gazebo together, my cocker spanielSamantha – 2016-02-05
3 April 2008-18 February 2016

The milestones in life, birth, adoption, birthdays, illnesses and death. My mother’s move from hospital into a nursing home under hospice care on Tuesday, and I find myself returning to the sorrow and leavetaking from my puppy Samantha in February. I have photographs of her in my lap at the veterinary hospital when we brought her in and decided to have her euthanized.

Warm, here in my lap
I held her tight,
letting go forever . . .
so hard

Mother and I were quite close before I left for college, and then starting again perhaps ten years after my graduation. Restaurants, plays, lectures, faculty recitals, orchestra concerts, telephone visits once they were no longer metered. After I married, she and I spent much less time together, which was inevitable. Now, over the past five years or so, as her eyesight failed…

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Middle of the night

I woke up from a sound sleep, an hour or so ago, with a dream lingering in my mind. It was about my dying, alone, and breaking my promise to the dogs that I would not ever leave them. One wonders where the dreams originate. Which might be significant, and which are simply twitches from the subconscious as it rolls over in its sleep.

Charlie, cocker spaniel puppy, sleeping on the wood floor
Taking a Nap
Thaddeus, cocker spaniel puppy, asleep on the loveseat, under the lamp
Sound Asleep

Sunday’s Flower Art, 27 August 2017

At the middle of the afternoon, the sunlight and shade were such that I could manipulate the colors within some of the blue wild flax flowers.

The night felt too short, in spite of my getting right to sleep and staying asleep until eight o’clock or so. Before lunch, I lay down for a nap and slept for a few more hours. Nice lunch of cottage cheese, chicken breast with some garlic and herbs, baked with olive oil, steamed broccoli, and at midafternoon, I ate an apple. No idea what that will have done to my blood sugar levels by suppertime.

Al is applying wood filler to the siding and then sanding it. He seems quite happy with the progress. (See progress, two photos, through the twenty-fourth here.)

A quiet Thursday (with wind)

There was far too much wind, today, for Al to continue the shingling, and so he put together the framing for the interior wall of the workshop. I helped raise it, and we figured out where we want the wall positioned (how large each room should be) and where the door should be situated. He’s off, now, looking at door frames.

This has been, I now realize, a tough week for me. Internal adjustments, the most profound of which is becoming aware that I really do not have to take my mobile phone with me as I move around the house and yard. There will be no more telephone calls from hospice, hospital, care or independent living centers concerning decisions to be made about my parents. My siblings all have spouses and in-laws to respond. Their children are grown and are themselves having children. Even when/if something happens to my husband, I have a whole raft of in-laws and siblings, nieces and nephews to call upon. Who have demonstrated their willingness and ability to handle things.

Does that leave me alone, here, to grieve about one more thing? Or do I accept being cherished by those who know and love me? There is not another, comparable burden to pick up.

What brought this on? I woke up, this morning, with no thoughts about what must be done, but instead set about a normal routine that included putting on coffee to brew, feeding and guiding the puppies, deciding not to eat breakfast, washing last night’s dishes, and wandering out into the back yard to catch up on what Al was doing. I had not put my phone by my bed, last night, and this morning I plugged it in to recharge and left it in my sitting room. Didn’t think about it. Sometime during the week I set my phone to “Do Not Disturb”, and it’s still there. And I can leave it like that.

I took the camera outside with me and took some photographs. The blue flowers in the upper right corner. I am wondering what they are. At first I thought perhaps a variety of oxalis, but the leaves don’t look right.

We’ve another bird nest above the motion detector light. Sparrows have moved in again, after the first nest disintegrated in the winds, wet and late snow of this dampish spring. I hope that this nest holds together.

Sparrows Nest

Another day of rain

In lieu of wildflowers, which are only now beginning to grow in the new wildflower garden, I’ve taken photos of the chives by the back step. I enjoy having them just outside the back door, handy for cutting. I like them in soups, salads and scrambled eggs. I do still need to find good recipes for low-calorie/low carbohydrate/gluten-free soup. I will make it through the summer, but nothing’s better than a tasty clear soup in the wintertime.

I have, while pulling what dandelion plants I can reach out of the wildflower garden, noticed three new plants that appear to be flax. I am looking forward to wild flax in order to take photographs, again, and I’ve been worried that they won’t “take” in the new spot. I am not sure what the sun exposure will be, since we didn’t pick the plot (50 sq. ft.) until late in the summer or early autumn. Too, the willow tree across the back fence has dropped some larger branches, and we had to remove one of the four stands of cotoneaster bushes, those closest to the back fence on the southwest end of the yard.

There was precipitation, this morning, but the afternoon winds have dried the grass enough for Al to mow the yard. He’s finished the front and sides, and is now working on the back. Before that, he cleared out the project-in-process enough that he can build the interior wall when it’s too wet for shingling. Looks like tomorrow will include shingling.

In the meanwhile, I also took pictures of the peony leaves. The new plants, erupting from the middle of the plot we staked out (to protect them, early and now emerging, from the lawnmower), had raindrops on their leaves. I love the colors of them when they are youngish.

I am going through stacks of books and papers that have accumulated beside my chair since my father died. Time to start putting things back into order, again. Since inheriting, after giving away my set to a nephew and his family, the family’s Great Books of the Western World, along with copies of all of the Great Ideas Today yearbooks (with duplicates for the years when both I and my parents were buying them), I am once again short of shelf space. I do not know what I would have done if I hadn’t given away/thrown out over five hundred hardcover/paperback books with last year’s Spring Clean-up Week discards.

Nonetheless, I will keep at this thing. Neither of us wants to go into older age with closets or cardboard boxes to go through when it actually will be too much work, rather than now, when it just feels like it is. I have new artwork to put on the walls, however, when I get to the framer’s. I look forward to that.

#WeekendCoffeeShare – Again, a weekend!

I am sharing this post from one of my other blogs because I want to get caught up at The Moments Between, but realize that I’d simply repeat this verbatim or edit it down.

Currently I am attempting to write (or, in desperation, reuse) a poem a day during NaPoWriMo2017. That may lead to more blog posts as I attempt to avoid writing poetry for 30 days in a row. ::grin::

Stray Coffee Breaks

If we were getting together for coffee, this weekend, we might take our cups into the back yard, where we could settle into the gazebo and watch the dogs run and play together.  The rain is supposed to be over by eight o’clock, and so the ground may be dry by the time I’m awake, again. My husband has turned our garage into a workshop, where he is putting together what will become his actual workshop. His dream has been to plan and construct a freestanding workshop for his woodworking. The lumber for the frame was delivered, and he’s made enough progress that he’s recruiting friends and family to help raise the walls, sometime this week. Early, I think.

The excitement has been wearing on the puppies. Charlie fell asleep, one afternoon, on the back of the love seat. A little too much energy wore off too quickly. I’m surprised…

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Roy – death in the family

father, granddaughter and great-grandson
Roy with a granddaughter and great-grandson

About three and a half months after my mother’s death, my father has died. He still was in good health, if vital signs are any indication, but he passed away in his sleep shortly before eleven o’clock last Sunday evening. Not sure if he slipped away while my brother was out of the room for a bit, Father’s having pled need of a nap, or just didn’t notice when he came back into the room later to sit with him for a while. He’d been saying for a while that he was ready to go home. Our thought is that without Mother, and with all details of life wrapped up once a contract was drawn up for one of the kids to buy the family home to keep it in the family, he quit putting in the effort to stick around here any longer.

father and mother in 1942
Roy and Elleen