It was my turn to spend the night with my mom last night, and whichever child was there left so I could take over. I can't tell you who was there---isn't that pathetic? We're so running on empty that I can't even remember. Huh. Still can't, and I'm wracking my brain.
No matter.
When I got there, she was in bed, and while we thought she was asleep, she wasn't. I went into her room to turn on her bathroom light and shut the door a bit. Figured she'd need the light if she got up to go to the bathroom. Well, graceful me hit her doorstop with my shoe and it clanked over, and she stirred and said she wasn't asleep. I sat down on her bed, she said she had all sorts of things spinning in her head, and we talked. For two hours. The darkness in the room helped make it intimate and it was nice. Me and my mom. The way daughters and moms are supposed to be. When she finally got sleepy, I hugged her and left, and cried. Long time coming.
It was all good. Sweet. Confiding.
And likely never would've happened if she'd not had a stroke. Go figure. She said she feels differently about lots of things, including the man she's been sort of dating FOR SEVEN YEARS. Get that. She said very simply last night, Shannon (his name) is into Shannon. 'Nuf said.
Now I'm home, fourth son is at mom's and the three youngest and I are going to a funeral tomorrow morning (none of them have ever been to one---we're hoping for a closed casket). Like the one a few weeks ago. Service/choir for me, others to graveside service and we'll help get the luncheon ready.
My goodness, life is full, isn't it?
