I talked to my mom today. Things have been tough for all of us since my Dad died in March, but for my mom especially. Of course.She's doing well, all things considered. She's one of many in her generation who transitioned from her parents' house to her married life, with no "single" life in between. For all of her 71 years she's lived with someone else. Now she finds herself living alone for the first time. It's hard on her, in ways she predicted and ways that surprised her.
Like most people who are grieving, she finds odd things that catch her breath and make her heart race. Like opening a drawer and finding Dad's shaving razor in an unexpected place. Like discovering that the old lawnmower did work after all, and didn't need replaced with the lawn tractor that Dad bought last summer. She's learning that she doesn't like to eat meals alone. She catches herself looking up to comment on a TV show they used to watch together, and rediscovering that his chair is surprisingly, maddeningly, continually, empty.
I'm grateful that she's doing well, physically and emotionally, as much as can be expected. I'm grateful that she's able to talk through these things. I'm grateful that my sisters live nearby and can visit her more frequently than I can. I'm grateful that she had such a long marriage and so many memories to recall. I'm grateful that she's occupying herself with making Christmas gifts for the family, that she's trying out a new church after many years away from it, that she's financially stable and seems to be making lots of rational and reasonable decisions about Dad's things around the house and garage.
It would be really easy to rail out against all the things about this situation for which I'm not grateful. The hurt is still pretty raw, after all. But I'm not going to do that. I'm going to focus on the things that are good, and let that be enough for today.
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