I’ve been talking to friends and family about time lately. Family said they saw her a month before she died and she was still there. Friends said she died so fast. It didn’t feel fast to me, so I went and checked a calendar. Mom was at home on Mother’s Day, when we took that beautiful picture of her. She died on June 22, a month and a half later. And it’s now a month after that. Mom was at home less than three months ago. And six months ago, the cancer treatments were working and pushing the cancer back. That’s the blink of an eye usually. But it feels like a lot longer ago. Going through it, this all felt like it took so much longer.
It is amazing the difference a day makes. I finally managed to get my long awaited meeting with a Wells Fargo banker, and it went smoothly. I gave him my mom’s death certificate, we talked about options, he gave me his card, and told me to call him any time I needed help. We’ve finally a game plan for what we are going to do with mom’s accounts there, and we are moving forward. It is amazing how much a little half-hour meeting can help to improve matters.
This has been a difficult time, and I want to thank everyone who helped me. Some of you spent time with me, which I needed very badly. Some came to the get-togethers to celebrate her life. Some gave me a place to sleep. Some donated money to help pay for my mom’s End of Life expenses after the one bank locked down the funds I had planned to use for that. Thanks to you all, my mom’s cremation and burial were fully funded. Next I need to look at a permanent stone for her grave. I’m thinking a header stone like her brother has, with a future plan for a larger family stone since I bought the plot with plans to make it available for other members of the family if they wanted it. But that’s all future plans, and for now I wanted to thank you all for helping me through this difficult time. You all made a difference. Trust me.
We went to Phelps Mill after the funeral. It’s an old mill and dam where the family grew up swimming on weekends, and we tend to congregate there after doing anything at the old church. Funerals. Marriages. We’ve done family reunions and softball games there. Going there is just another family tradition. A marriage ceremony was ending as we arrived, and we took some quick photos as a storm rolled in. We got back to our cars just ahead of the downpour, and went off to eat with family in a nearby town. Traditions like this are important. They help us navigate loss and gain. They remind us that we are part of something greater than just us. A long line of our ancestors has come through all of this before, and our descendents will do the same in the future. It reminds us that there is life after death.
The funeral for my mom was good. The pastor spoke well. It was a celebration of the life my mom lived, with emphasis on the fact that we will meet again when our souls take the next step in life. And then we walked across the road to the cemetery. I carried my mom’s ashes past her grand parents and great grand parents. Then I hitched a left and walked over to where her parents and her brother lay. Next I took her to her uncles and aunts. Finally, I walked her over to the grave her brother and I dug the day before. I placed her in the ground, and I shoveled dirt onto her. Her brother shoveled dirt on her. One family member after another shoveled dirt until everything was back in place, and finished with the sod. Then we returned to the church for snacks and drinks. It was good. And it was hard.



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