The End Of An Era

Today is the first day in which I felt that I could sit down and actually do a little bit of peaceful writing, and reading.  You see almost immediately upon entering the nursing home my mother took a turn for the worse and died six days later.  As you can imagine things were a bit unsettled and my brain was on hyper-alert overdrive.  I didn't like it.  That place is too intense for me. 

I'm finally starting to get the feeling of control and my nerves have released some of the super tension they were holding.  Although it has only been a week time does make a difference when dealing with this kind of stuff, but also outside help is huge for allowing me to go from over the the top stress cadet to normal alpha waves in the cerebral cortex.  You see one of my brothers flew down to see what he could do to help and even if he thinks he wasn't doing all that much, boy was it ever AMAZING to have someone here to help take some of the load off.  So between two of my brothers, me, and my favouritest daughter we managed to take care of the worst of the stuff that one has to do when another passes on the torch.  (If that makes any kind of sense.)

We spent several days trying to make some semblance of order of her stuff.  I'm not sure how much order we managed but at least the piles are beginning to make sense.  I battled through years of old phone bills and print-outs of flowers while the brothers sorted through pictures and "stuff".  Old ladies sure like doilies.  Oh and if anyone asks the question, "What do old ladies keep in their jacket pockets?"  The answer is Kleenex, and lots of it.  In fact I believe that tissue companies would probably go out of business if it wasn't for the need for old ladies to stock up the pockets of all a hundred and fifty of their jackets.  Also I discovered where I get my ability to write really, really bad poetry from.  Genetics are a crazy thing.