Yesterday was a long draining day. From waking up to crashing after midnight, it was a day of doing 50 things at once. My house is command central with everyone’s cell phones and my house phone in use. I literally would be on the computer, the little bit I was home working on the obituary, with a cell phone pressed against one ear and 2 sisters asking me questions in my other. Everyone’s cell phone died at some point or other, and I don’t have a car charger for mine. I kept thinking of all the calls I needed to make and people who probably were trying to reach me. I should have bought a car charger for cheap on Saturday when I had the chance. Who knew?
It’s brought out the best and worst in us. My favorite piece of petty griping is that it’s my mom’s fault that some people in the family might argue over her things, what she wanted them to have, what they think they’re due. It’s not the fault of the people who are so low and selfish, it’s my mom’s for not putting labels on everything.
Or how things had to be at her church and then couldn’t be at her church because somehow, “that’s not what the church service is for”. And “how are the church people expected to get to the service in such short notice?” Everyone else is. Including the same church people for someone else tonight. They can get to the church for her service tonight, but my mom’s is impossible? Or my one sister saying we’re not respecting mom because we picked a low class place for her lunch and don’t have a carving station.
At one point, we were so tired and drained after obits and funeral director meetings and flower meetings and lunch meetings that we got lost trying to find the funeral home again (they needed a picture of my mom so they can do her hair and makeup like she liked it); here we were within one block of the place the whole time, just circling its perimeter. I suddenly imagined my mom turning to my dad and saying, “Look at the pack of idiots we made. They’re our legacy?!” and laughing.
Today, we get together all the photos for her service. I finally cried last night as I looked at them all; all day yesterday, I was so drained from all we had to do that tears weren’t there. But looking at her face in those photos….. wondering how she was so suddenly gone. Remembering how in the later years, I hardly took photos when we were together, because I’d run around for her getting all the pictures she wanted, so she could sit and relax. She loved pictures. She’s always loved taking them. She took tons at every event and any time I should have put that in her obituary.
I still haven’t been able to look at her last photo, the one with me at our lunch on Sunday. John tells me it’s a good picture.