Therapy

I'm not dealing well at all with my Mothers' news...... surprised at myself. I'm all grown up and hold a responsible position in a dialysis clinic etc etc, but now it's MY mom, and I am a blubbering mess. Happily, that is nowhere in sight when I talk to her. Today, first day I'm home all day without work to be distracting, I stayed moving all day. Laundry, cleaned the chicken pen and yard - spread fresh straw all over. Shovelled out the horses shelter. Cleaned the kitchen, and the bathrooms. (housekeepers are coming Monday) and dug out the 2" squares. Mindless sewing - "No-Thinkum" projects. This is the first, the second (which is different), is in my machine getting borders.

Dolly quilts, 22x25 - both of them. I don't know what I'll do with them, but I plan to hand quilt them just to have something to do with my hands while I travel. No sewing for several weeks may be hard, or may not. We'll see. It was pretty theraputic today tho, just kind of feed 'em thru. Choosing the borders was what froze me.
I spent over an hour on the phone talking to my younger brother the other night. I was nearly 6 when he was born, and I was pretty sure he was a present for me, he was my special baby. I "left his life" as he puts it, when he was young, less than 10. I married and moved away, so we really don't know each other too well and live on opposite ends of a really long state, but when we do see each other or talk on the phone, that old connection is there. We think the same, hold identical opinions on strange subjects, and both describe ourselves as "Nazi" parents. Meaning that neither of us (past tense for me, present for him) forgot who was the adult in our families, and who is the kid. I used to tell my kids "This is not a democracy, this is a dictatorship. When you are 18 you may attempt a non-violent coup and try making your own rules" They laugh at that now, and of course they agree now. Anyway, my baby brother Bart is as shocked as I. We talked about mom, about the possibility of life without mom, finally - finding the blessing that this actually is to us all. Mom's biggest fear as she aged was becoming too sick to stay on her ranch, and becoming a "burden" to us. If she has to go, this is the way she wants it - no lingering for years as an invalid or even a frail elder. Enough time to say anything - sign papers, direct the family; it really is my Mom's way. We can both cry hysterical tears, but when we need to we will both step up and deal. Bart is travelling with his family from L.A. tomorrow, and he will assess her and let me know if I need to come right away. We briefly discussed what to do with the ranch in Utah. Neither of us is interested in living there, and neither of us really cares what happens to it. Strange idea, isn't it? Here's the reasoning - Bart and I believe that the treasures in our lives are our families. Having things that belonged to or were precious to our parents is not important to us. A few little things is all either of us needs to take away. We reacted the same way when our dad died, 25 years ago this month. Bart was just 21, I was 27. There was no will, and not a single argument over who takes what. Not even discussion.
On the radio, Christmas songs. Right now is a song about a little boy wanting to buy special Christmas shoes for his Mama, who is going to meet Jesus tonight. Country music is full of dying Mama songs, and they break my heart all over every time.
sigh