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Wow, your mom sounds like such a cool lady. And you're right, we should all be so lucky; my mom was one of those who got sicker and sicker and ended up having a miserable last few years.Quote:
Originally Posted by Trek420
I wanna go out like your mom.
Me too. We don't always get those choices. She was diagnosed with the aortic aneurism years back. The doc advised surgery. This would have her in rehab for a year. Close to 90 at the time she decided to just keep going, always with the specter that she could go at any moment rather than a year or more in rehab with no certainty that she'd be independent after. I think I'd choose the same.
I'll never be as sharp as her, my Mom was brilliant. But if you want to live like her start gardening, doing The Nation crossword puzzles to keep the body and brain sharp. Find causes you're passionate about and raise heck with your lefty friends. Maybe a demonstration every so often.
Other than that luck and genes I guess.
Trek, your mom sounds like a wonderful, intelligent woman who embraced life to the fullest. I hope to be just like her when I'm "old". And like others have said, we should all be so lucky to go quickly like that without years of misery and poor health as so many are faced with, or dying in the hospital.
Still, condolences are in order. I don't care how old she was or how she died, it HURTS to lose a parent. Hugs and warm thoughts coming your way...
Amen sister, the first dozen people who told me "your mom lived a long life" almost got whacked. Who are they to say how long a life should be, she wanted to stick around, she was not done yet. Those sorts of sentiments are diminishing.Quote:
Originally Posted by emily_in_nc
Trek, your mom does sound wonderful. You have all my sympathy for losing her. Mine went in 2006 and I miss both of my parents every day.
Had to meet my brother this evening at my moms place, theres a guy coming tomorrow to look over her belongings and make an offer to buy the lot. When I got there her stuff was laid out all over the place so it could be more easily viewed... that was so hard, I could look at a coffee mug and know I'd bought it for her for Mother's Day 10 years ago, a book we picked out at the local library book sale, and on and on. It was so hard.
I just want to leave for Florida and find a reset button some how, a break, a chance to heal and catch my breath.
I can't even imagine that, Pax. I know someday that same time will come for me. Since I'm the oldest and the only daughter, I'll be the one in charge of "the sale". My younger brother is awesome, but he's not exactly Mr. Responsible. I dread it sooooo much. My mom was an only child, so she has so many things of my grandparents and even great-grandparents...and I can't begin to keep it all or even more than a tiny % of it. It is going to be SO hard, so emotional. Thinking of you as you go through this horrible rite of adulthood... :(Quote:
Originally Posted by Pax
Thanks, Emily. It is such a strange place to be, to me mom is still alive in my head. A life seems to come done to "stuff"; stuff means little to me, I don't want her silver place settings, I want the fun pic of her goofing off at the beach or the pic of her smooching dad while he's messing around wearing a friends bikini after they've all had a little too much. Stuff means nothing, the memories are everything.
Well, I was kind of the opposite. My mom died young (67), in a family where everyone lives to their 90s. I enjoyed picking out "stuff" to keep, and I love using it, too. In fact, the night after her funeral, my brother and I sat down with her jewelry box and laid it all out and divided it up. I really wanted certain pieces, because I knew he would probably end up selling it, but we were very even handed about it. We sat on my bedroom floor and laughed a lot. I wear her stuff all of the time. She gave me a lot of her big silver pieces and other things for the house many years ago, in the 80s. She wanted to see me using them, and she did. I am so glad when I take that stuff out on holidays, as it reminds me of happy childhood times. My dad sent me a huge box of some of her clothes, which I wore for years after. Of course, she was so petite, that a lot didn't fit me.
She would not want me (or anyone) to be sad. I have good memories and I leave it at that.
I can certainly see it both ways, Pax and Crankin. My practical side says "sell it all" because I am trying to live a very low-clutter existence and agree that stuff is just stuff and really shouldn't matter. But my sentimental side will certainly kick in when the time comes, and I am sure I will want more of the "stuff" of our family's history because of the memories attached to it. Also, some of it is truly beautiful - antiques and such, and some nice jewelry. Harder will be all the kitchen things I don't really need but love. Mexican glassware, delicate crystal...it's going to be hard. Fortunately, my mom wears a much larger size than me, so clothes will not be tempting. But it's not going to be easy, and I dread it so. My mom is 79 and in great health for her age, but no one lives forever.
My oldest brother died this week. I didn't know him very well. We were half siblings, and he was 20 years older than me. He had leukemia. He was a Vietnam Veteran, a career Marine, with all the baggage that goes with that.
My earliest memory of him is meeting him for the first time when I was a toddler and he was home on leave. I remember craning my neck all the way back to see him because he was so tall. He and I hit it off right away. He was handsome, charming and funny. He was a good brother to me. Just too many years between us, and too many miles.
He asked me if I would donate bone marrow, and I would have, but never received the kit from the hospital. I don't know if they just didn't bother testing me because we weren't full siblings, but I would have done it for him. In the end, it was a moot point since he ended up having other health issues that made him ineligible for transplant.
In his honor I will be donating blood regularly. I wish I could have helped him.
(((((Red))))) I'm so sorry.
{{{{{Red}}}} So sorry to read this and your first memory of him is so sweet! Sending warm thoughts and prayers to you and your family.
(((red)))
I'm sorry for the loss of your brother, red.