Well, we didn’t get our miracle.

Or, at least, we didn’t get it here, but my Mom is out of that body that was hurting her so much, so she got hers. And now she can run and fly and do all the things she loves without having to pay the price later.

So that’s a wonderful thing to think of.

But I’m a little selfish and I miss her smile and I miss her little songs to the dogs and I miss how much she loved all of us. Like, so much.

It’s hard when somebody’s not there and you realize that the amount of love they put out there was so huge there’s this enormous gap. And I’m just facing that gap for the rest of my life.

It’s rough.

But she’s getting all the wonderful things she ever dreamed of right now, and she has so many friends and family surrounding her right now, so she’s got people to take care of, and she feels well and can take care of everybody again.

So that’s awesome.

But not right now, because it hurts, and I realize that my soft, squishy, constantly breaking heart is the way it is because I learned empathy and mothering from her.

I got to thank her, and I got to apologize for all the crap I pulled, and I got to make sure she felt loved all the way through, and that is also something to be grateful for.

But it still sucks.

She was sunshiny, beautiful, naïve, more generous than most people would think was humanly possible, and she loved us all with food and presents and too much of everything, in a good way. And it’s not likely that life will ever give us a chance to be cared for so thoroughly again, at least, not on this planet.

So, I’m thankful and sad and mourning and breaking and joyful, all at once. And it’s horrible.

But she’s good now. So we’ll go through this and hold on to that.

Well, Mom and Dad are hanging in there, but it was another rough week. Mom is a trooper, and Dad’s pretty burly, too...it’s beyond hard to watch someone you love go through this.

With no help from the doctors except more morphine. Ugh.

However, it’s amazing how tough my Mom is when she wants to do something. All week long, she’s been home, in bed, basically lucky to get to walk a loop around the backyard. But yesterday, we had planned to have her good friends from church take a trip down here in the church van to see my house and have lunch.

I mean, the lady is frail right now and feeling pretty crappy.

So, of course, she did it anyway, and did great.

She didn’t go to lunch, but she got dressed up, rode in the car, and then napped in her room at my house while we had lunch, and then I made her some oatmeal and she went home. For her that was a huge deal, and she did it! Yay!

Today seems a bit better, too.

Even though we get looks from people, like maybe they think we’re insane, we will still have hope, no matter what. There are better things ahead for her and for us, I just know it. We can do this, even though it sucks right now.

It’s been a rough few days. The meds for the pain my mom has have started causing her to fade behind a weird fog that makes her sleep all day, hallucinate, and become completely disoriented at times.

She’s lost the dignity of going to the bathroom alone. She’s lost the ability to remember where she’s going or what she’s doing. She is now being treated like a child because her confusion is so great that we’re worried she’ll injure herself.

And then she has moments of lucidity and we can see her underneath this haze.

Fortunately, it seems that these effects may have come from too much opioid medication; unfortunately, the effects are receding slowly and are very scary.

And we are all so tired, especially my dad.

And some asshat stole my dad’s debit card number so he’s had to cancel his card, get a new one, and also remember to change all of the automatic monthly payments that come out of this card. Because he didn’t have enough on his plate.

And life goes on, and work goes on, and all the things we have to do to keep up with bills and the house and the pets and the cars still need to be done.

I am so grateful she’s with us and comfortable. I’m so grateful we have kind hospice people to help. I’m so happy that she has such an amazing husband who loves caring for her and makes her feel so safe and happy. I am beyond thankful for a husband who loves them as much as I do and is willing to drop our normal routine to go with me to help out the little bit that I can.

But, wow. This is difficult. And I can’t imagine what’s going to happen next.

Ugh.

P.S. Fentanyl is the devil, just in case you were wondering.

Tip of the week: If you send a person who has been put on hospice an “encouragement” card, don’t write a message detailing all of the things you’ll miss about that person when they die. In case you didn’t figure it out, that’s a crappy, morbid thing to do.

Also, don’t send a follow-up birthday card doing it again.

Maybe just don’t write.

Or call.

Maybe staying away is best, because this hospice lady isn’t going anywhere, and her family kind of wants to punch you for being a douchebag.

The end.

When it’s Tuesday, I like to congratulate myself on the fact that I have survived one whole day of this week. Then I like to silently weep into my coffee because there are four days left until Saturday.

Barf.

So I have come up with a new plan for getting through the week, and I thought I’d share it with all two of you who read this blog (yeah, I know): Cake.

See? It’s the perfect plan!

But seriously, I figure if my mom could potty train me in one go using M&Ms as a reward, I can get myself through the week using cake as a reward. Like so: If I stick to my diet all week, I can have a piece of cake at some point during the weekend.

I know it seems backward to reward healthy eating with a pile of sugar and fat, but that’s pretty much all I really want these days.

And I can earn bonus food, too. For instance, if I go for a walk after work at least three times this week, I’m going to have a beer while watching tv on a Friday night. See how easy that is?

Life skillz.

I am feeling so smart right now.

I’ve gotten some comments on the fact that I participate in Lent every year, but I don’t really consider myself to be super religious. I know I don’t owe anybody an explanation, but I thought I’d like to go ahead and just explain anyway.

Because.

So, I believe in God. And I believe that believing in God should make me different. It should change the way I treat my fellow creatures and it should change me and make me want to be a better person. Not in order to do anything for God, but because it makes me see that there is order and reason, and the more crap I can remove from myself, the closer I can get to enjoying all of the wonderful things and letting go of all of the little stuff that doesn’t really mean anything to me. God doesn’t need me to do anything. God is God.

So why do something during Lent?

It gives me a task. It gives me a short period of time to focus on improving something about myself that I feel is getting in the way of me being the best person I can be. I’m not bargaining with God for a higher place in the order of things; I really don’t think God is that bothered with my experiment between Ash Wednesday and Easter. There are so many much more important things in the world beside me and my Lenten plans.

So, last year, it was meditating. I’m still meditating daily, and it has actually helped me immensely over the past year. This year, I’m staying off Facebook. Not all social media; just Facebook. I feel like it’s the internet version of middle school, except peopled entirely by adults. All facade, no substance. It’s just getting exhausting. I think I’ll be continuing this Lenten adventure past Easter. It hasn’t really been that hard, though I’ll admit, I’ve gone on twice. The first time was an accident, and the second time was all about stalking somebody’s page. It needed to be done. Not sorry.

At any rate, that’s all. It’s an opportunity for self-improvement. No biggie, but it’s important to me.

Well, I thought it was finally tough enough that it couldn’t get any worse.

I was wrong. I am getting to a place where that isn’t a difficult thing to say any more.

My husband just lost his Dad, and it’s a sad time for the family. No matter how old we get, or how far away we live, or how many little disagreements we get into, it’s always sad when a part of life changes permanently.

And, yes, he is much happier and healthier and in a better place now, which is great. His last weeks on this planet were just awful. He can have a good meal now and go build all the things and not have to feel run-down and weak any more.

But his wife and daughter feel like their house is a lot emptier.

And that’s sad. And we can’t fix it.

Sigh.

Come on, 2018. Something positive? Pretty please? Because this is shaping up to look a lot like 2016, and I don’t think I can handle another year like that.