This Is Really Difficult

You know, this whole get-up-and-go thing is really hard. This week-end, my sweetheart jokingly suggested that he should get me some eggs so I can brood properly. (He's quite a joker, my sweetheart.) I'm excited when I sleep well a couple of nights in a row.

What's interesting is that I'm not turning to knitting for solace at this time. Instead, I've turned to reading and watching Foyle's War. I'm not sure I could stand to watch House now, though it's one of my favorites. I'm also really enjoying a lot of TED talks.

When I'm not brooding.

I Tried to Blog on Thursday

while my mother was still alive.

I had a little report about how she was getting a little better and how I thought this was going to be a long drawn-out recovery. I reported that I was re-arranging my life to be with her through this long drawn-out recovery and how I wasn't going to have time to go to any knitting groups for quite a while.

I then started to give a "show" of finished objects. I didn't even finish getting one written up and I saved my post for later, when I had a little more heart to do so.

And the pneumonia got worse and she died yesterday afternoon, Saturday, March 14. She had been 71 for exactly three whole months.

There are no words, really. None at all.

I understood in the past couple of weeks, that my communication with her had to be through touch. When I could, I held her. I kissed her. I stroked her hair, her hand, her arm, her leg, her shoulder, her face. I cleaned her glasses. I sat in the room with her. I left her alone to rest.

People who come back from a low-oxygen event tend to report pleasant, floating, god-meeting experiences. I hope she had a good trip. She deserved some happiness and peace at the end.