Beautiful evening

It is a glorious evening here. 78 degrees. Slow setting sun. A perfect time to go somewhere and sit outdoors. Go for a walk. But I have no one I can really call. Most of my friends are married. Or fuddy-duddies that would say no. And mom is settled in for the evening.

As much as I hate to admit it, I am really seeing some changes in mom. Her being tired, wanting to go home. That is so not my mom. She used to run circles around me -- not that long ago.

Her walking has become very labored. Last Sunday we went to Mall of America and I pushed her in a wheelchair. All three floors. I've become accustomed to her in a wheelchair at the airport. That's a necessity to get from Point A to Point B in a timely manner. But at the mall, that felt different. Not unnatural, just different. Limiting.

We talked some today about a cane. Which she initially balked at, but once I reminded her that it might help continue her "walking career," she said she wasn't vain about it. Riiggghhhhttttt. That if it helped she'd do it. She has a cane. I'll believe it when I see it in public.

It's really hard to see my mom slowing down. Getting tired. Forgetful. It's become more noticible to me. Especially since we spent the five days together. Repeated conversations. Saying something I'd said earlier.

I read a newspaper headline to her one evening and not 20 minutes later she read it back to me. I asked her, Mom, do you really not remember me saying that to you just a while ago? "No. I must not have heard you." Thing is, I repeated it to her twice and she commented on it.

I made a comment to her earlier about her setting off my car alarm when she left here yesterday. She looked at me like I was absolutely nuts. "I did not set off your alarm!" But she did because my car keys were still in the front door and I was on the couch with Gigi. She has my key on her keychain and I'm guessing she pushed a button while getting into her car.

My doctor made a comment to me last time I was in about her being more forgetful. Part of me thinks I should call her work and ask them how they think she's doing.

Don't get me wrong. She's 82. She deserves to be tired. I just hate to see how much it hurts her to not be able to do what she used to do. It frustrates her. Makes her cry. And that hurts my heart.

Thursday night she brought a bag of jewelry my Godather had given her. Gina's things. I have a few pieces already and wasn't expecting we'd see anymore.

It's funny how grief can suprise you at any time. I'd already had a few moments looking at Mother's Day cards. Remembering the card I selected for her last year. How in another life she would've loved that card. How in a year so much is so different.

As I was looking through her jewelry, I started bawling. I was so surprised by my reaction. Big time sobbing. Having to catch my breath. It hit me from no where. Suddenly. Sharply. The reminder that she is gone. It's so easy to forget.