Tonight I'm feeling sad, as I usually do around this time. Nights are harder. We were sitting here watching a movie and Susan fell asleep so I turned it off and for a split second I thought, well, I better call Mom for the night. I'd usually call her around 9 or so, sometimes later. But I'd wait until about 5 til the hour so I made sure she wasn't in the middle of a show. The later you called, the more likely she would answer and not Dad because she was sitting right there in her chair by the phone. She'd pick up on the first ring sometimes. I miss hearing her voice now and chatting about stupid things. Just everyday things. What she and Dad did today, etc. I was just looking at some pictures I still have on my camera from over a year ago. There were some of Mom on there with Sophie on Sophie's birthday in 2006. This  year (January 9, 2007), Mom wouldn't let me take her picture with Sophie because her face was "puffy" from the prednisone. So I have a picture of Mom's hand feeding Sophie some birthday cake and that's all.

 

Today I went to the attorney's office to pick up some things that were left in the car. There was a milk crate with "car stuff" in it. Dad was prepared. He had a light you plugged into the cigarette lighter, jumper cables, a little air compressor for flat tires that you also plugged into the cigarette lighter, some flares. There were two personal items. Mom's down coat and a little Catholic magazine. Not sure who the magazine belonged to. Don't know if Mom's coat was in the trunk or what. It was her little brown coat from Eddie Bauer. She wore it a lot.  I put it on but of course it didn't fit. Mom was so tiny. Short,  yes,  but just tiny all over. Little bones. Small shoulders. Petite. She was my little Mom. I got my height from her and small hands and feet but that's it.  She wasn't frail, well, as much as you might expect a nearly 78 year old to be,  but not overly frail. In one coat pocket, there was a rain hat (she had tons of these things!) and a hair pick. Mom was always fixing her  hair. It always looked the same to me, but if I said that she would get mad. "No, it looks awful today," and she'd start messing with it. She always looked neat and nice and put together. In the other pocket was a Kleenex (another thing she was never without!) and a business card for the Bloomington Shuttle Service. She must've had this when we went to pick up Dad when he got back  from Phoenix. 

 

 I drove up there with Mom that Monday night, Jan. 29 to pick him up at the Hampton. We went to the hotel to wait but we were early, so we decided to go down to McDonalds and get a Coke. We were at the light and here came the shuttle, so we just followed it back to the hotel. Dad got off and went and got his bag and I got out to greet him and help him put his stuff in my car. It was really good to see him. He seemed happy, but sad, too, because he knew Bill was in failing health. But he was so happy to have gone and gotten to see Bill. He had had a great time with his brothers. I remember  thinking at some point that the next time he went out, I wanted to go with him. I thought he should just go back in a month or so to see Bill again. I can't remember what else we talked about but he seemed in good spirits although he had to be tired. Mom sat  next to me in front and Dad in back. I remember thinking I had to be extra careful because of my precious cargo. It was a neat bonding thing just the three of us in the car.  I loved Mom and Dad so much.

 

Susie