I was surprised to see this thread come up again. I see why, now. I am so sorry to hear about your Mother, Meriaux. I know it's small comfort at the time, but the thing that helped me get through it was knowing that people have done this before. A lot of us here have been through it. I absolutely understand how you feel, I lost my Mom in 2002. I have no brothers or sisters and not much other family so I understand feeling alone. The fact that you were so close makes it all the harder to go on without her, but you have her memory to guide you. The torch is passed. You know she would want you to do your best. At least you got to know your Mom, and she loved you. Some don't even have that much. I know your Mom would tell you should in NO way feel guilty about your premonition. Premonitions don't cause things to happen, any more than the weather forecast causes it to rain. Death is just a part of life. It will happen to us all one day. Your Mother was close to my age, and I hope you don't think it irreverent to talk about, but if I had to pick a way to go I'd want to go quick. It would be a shock to the survivors, though I guess, with no time to adjust. But it's heart breaking to have to watch a loved one suffer, sometimes for years. Mother's Day wasn't that long ago. Things are still really fresh for you. Trust me, it will ease with time. There have been many words of sympathy and comfort that have been written. I kindof liked this one.I hope y'all don't mind if I include the poem I picked for my Mother's holy card (or whatever they call them these days). (I knew she'd want one for the funeral as that's what she believed in) I chose a more modern picture of a kindly Jesus embracing someone who has just "come home"... Don't think of her as gone away Her journey's just begun Life holds so many facets This earth is only one Just think of her as resting From the sorrows and the tears In a place of warmth and comfort Where there are no days and years Think how she must be wishing That we could know, today Now nothing but our sadness Can really pass away And think of her as living In the hearts of those she touched For nothing loved is ever lost And she is loved so very much. -Anonymous

Kate, my heart and love go out to you. It is not easy to lose anyone, but a mother is one of the hardest to say goodbye to. Mothers are your best friends; your confidants; your shoulders to cry on; and someone who is always there to love you, support you, hold you close, comfort you and just accept you the way you are. I know you have an empty spot in your life and I would like to give you a special plant to place in your garden that will be there to honer her life and the love you shared. I hope you will allow me to do this gift for her and you. It warms my heart to know you had hospice to help with the transition and as Beth said - it is like they help God as he reaches out for the hand of his child that he is welcoming home to his loving arms. They also wrap God's arms around you and hold you close to him. Your mother chose the way she wanted to leave this world and left it a better place for having spent time here. You are evidence of this because you care for others and bring beauty to the world of people around you. I am happy to have known her as she posted here. I also pffer my shoulder, ears, arms if you ever need someone to understand and cry with you when you miss her, to listen to more wonderful stories about her and the things she did that brought so much joy to those around her, and just to hold you close and give you a hug if one is needed. I am headed over to read the poem and know it will bring tears to my eyes as I feel the love. She is now watching over us from heaven and waiting to welcome us home when our time comes. *hugs* Linda

My mom, who was an excellent public speaker, very comical, very informative, clear ... now can't remember how to ask for what she wants. She asks but uses the wrong words ... for instance, she was asking my 16 year old daughter for pepper steak last night. My daughter is no cook, so she came through to the living room with my mother right behind her and called to me. My mother stood right beside her and asked for pepper steak while looking right into her face. This made my daughter take a step back (while smiling very hard), and of course my mother followed her, also smiling very hard and starting to gesture to my daughter while saying 'pepper steak'. We (my husband and I) couldn't help laughing either ... and so my daughter was laughing and my mother was laughing all the while she kept gesturing to my daughter and looking right into her face very closely saying 'pepper steak'. My husband walked into the kitchen (he's the cook at our house), and my daughter followed him with my mother in tow and eventually they figured out she wanted a smoothie. My daughter makes excellent smoothies and often makes them for our entire family (I have 2 sons at home as well), and this is what my mother knew for a fact, she just didn't know how to ask for it. It was pretty funny and we all had a laugh, but when the laughing was over, I became sad, realizing my mother was losing more and more of her ability to communicate. She is pretty quiet most of the time, and I wish she would talk more often, she still laughs with us when she listens to us talk, and I have to be thankful for that. I at first went through a grieving period, when the realization hit me, I was missing my mother, and I still do ... but I have great memories of her. The memories make me happy, to remember her as she was, and what a wonderful woman she was. For now I am happy she has gotten over the frustrating times when she would struggle to tell us what she wanted, knowing that she was saying it wrong, and trying to find the right words. She is far more relaxed now then she was when it first started, that's the blessing. My mom, I am hurt, I am angry, I am frustrated, and she was the best I could ever have asked for ... so I hide my hurt, my anger, my frustrations. My husband takes very good care of her. He is home with her all the time, and when the kids get home from school, he has time to be out and about doing what he needs to do, and when I get home from work we're all there with her and we have our evening meal together. We're as normal as we can be around her. I don't know how else to be ... it's just the way it is. When things get worse, we will find a way I'm sure.

Well, I'm home - in my pajamas, having just indulged in my idea of total comfort food (DH made me a grilled cheese sandwich), and I'm just going through some things here in the home office. Today was a long day ... a good day ... but so draining. The service was lovely; I was surprised at how many attended, especially since Grannie and Grandaddy have outlived many, if not most, of the friends in their circle - still, the chapel was full. The flowers were beautiful and the photos displayed of her at the front were so precious. My favorites were her high school graduation photo (today I wore the little gold bracelet she had received from her parents on graduating in 1934 that she wore in the photo - she was the first in her family to receive her diploma - as well as her jingly charm bracelet), and a portrait taken perhaps a year or two later in which she looked like a silver screen star. She was so beautiful. Of course, I always just knew her as "my Grannie", so it's fascinating for me to consider what her life must have been like as a young woman. It was sweet today to hear stories of what she was once like. How, for instance, she showed herself to be a thoughtful sister when she got up early one Sunday morning before church and polished her sister's shoes, so their mama wouldn't find out that the sister had been out dancing the night before. She looked out for others, always. It was good to see family and friends, both old and new. It was a delight to hold my 8-month old second cousin and watch his brown eyes dance as he took in all the activity around him. It was bittersweet to hold the hand of my Grandaddy. I know it won't be too long before we're repeating this whole process for him. ::sigh:: The readings and sharing of memories during the service, both my own and the parts of other family members, went beautifully. Of course we were emotional. And it was ok. It was an emotional time, so perfectly fine. I think Grannie would have been pleased. I hope that somehow, somewhere, she was able to know that we were there today, honoring her life. Again, I cannot thank you all enough for the outpouring of love and support that you've given me here. It means more to me than I can possibly even express. You are very special people indeed.