The tale of a table. And an update.

I got a new table. Not just any table. See, I didn't need a new table and I wasn't looking for a new table. But I got a new table. A magnificent, perfect, fabulous coffee table for our family room. It matches the mantle we had built, it has everything we would have been looking for in a table, if we were looking for a table. And best part? I got it at Homegoods. You totally want to see the new table now, don't you?

Anyway, I was at Homegoods, I went for frames and maybe a lamp. And I walked in and saw it. Immediately I walk around it, and take a few pictures and text them to Mom. When she doesn't respond in 90 seconds I call Mom. She is equally as enamored with said table. "Buy it! Don't move from it until they mark it sold! Don't leave that spot!"So I did a little jig, got the table, and frames and a lamp. I got home and we Facetimed about the table which was now in it's new home. About how amazing it is and what a deal it is and ohmygosh we couldn't love Homegoods more.

And then I don't know whether to smile the rest of the day or sit in a corner and cry. I'm so grateful that she's in a good place where she's getting the support she so desperately deserves (more on that below) and she's got some of her groove back. But who am I supposed to call when this disease takes her from me? Who's going to celebrate finding a great deal on a table? Or ask me what the "busy Bests" are up to today? Who am I supposed to call when I get sick and just want my Mom? I'm trying desperately to take this day by day. But this still isn't fair.


Update:
My parents are home. Not in a rental, not with new couches or random furniture. They're home.

They moved to Birmingham. Rented a townhouse. Got chemo. And support which was nice for a change (a doctor who calls to check on her...nurses who answer the phone...). Mom got super sick, again. But then she recovered and felt well enough to go home, home. They are in the woods, with friends, with their stuff. And things are better than they have been since September 23rd. 

I'm so grateful. I'm so thrilled that they are able to enjoy life again. To go out on a boat, go for a short walk through the woods, have dinner with friends. I hate that they aren't here, but I love that they are there. 

She's still sick. This disease still isn't going away. But she's got some life in her again. And for her, for my Dad, for all us, it's really wonderful. So we hope this continues. She's being treated every three weeks so she'll have one week of suck and hopefully two pretty good weeks at home, in her own bed, with her own stuff. It's made a big difference already. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Things I Wanted To Tell Mom, Chapter 1

I just spent an inordinate amount of time on AT&T's website trying to figure out how many times I talk to Mom in a month. Also attempted to count text messages. Here's what I know, we spoke on the phone almost every day. We exchanged several dozen text messages a day. And now she's gone. Just like that. Gone. Mom is who I share the mundane with. She's the one I text when Costco has some sort of new magical weeknight dinner solution (hello street tacos and pork medallions). She's literally the only person who cares when I find a pair of Vineyard Vines shorts for Cannon at Marshall's. She's also the very first person I ever want to call when something exciting happens. She's the first person I tell when the kids get straight A's or when we get a note from a teacher telling us what a great human we're raising. And now she's gone.  And I need an outlet. My Dad is a great listener, advice giver, encourager but not so much on the talkin...
Read more

On SIX. And the thing.

 It was Mother's Day 2015 when I got out of the shower and my water broke. We headed to brunch, as one does. My Mom told everyone in the buffet line that I was in labor while I sipped a mimosa (third kid) and enjoyed a waffle or seven (You know they don't let you eat while you're in labor, right? It could have been days before I ate again!). We left the 'big kids', as they are known, with my parents and headed to the hospital. A quick 13 hours later, Finley Scott Best entered this world with her arms up screaming 'Hello World! I am here now and you're never going to be the same!'. And she was right.  That baby girl is six today and I've done some reflecting. I know what they say about third kids. And a lot of that rings true for her. She has to fight to get a word in, she can be feisty. She has been dragged from field to court to class to school to store for her entire life. And never once does she have a choice in the matter. She gets to control ver...
Read more

Things I Wanted to Tell Mom, Chapter 2

Kim Crawford is a man. Let that sink in.  And he sold his label for a bazillion dollars and retired. Then his wife got tired of him being at home and told him to start making wine again. So he did. It's called Loveblock and it's delicious. And there's a sunflower on the label which also makes me think of you.  Dad's on his way here to hug us and be with us. Hopefully our chaos is the distraction he needs. He's lonely, Mom. It's heart breaking. Almost as painful as  losing  you actually. Going to do my best to  lift him up but not sure he's ready yet. Not sure any of us are. Feels like you've been gone for a month, it's been 5 days. How is that even possible? Here's what I've learned about grief so far. It's weird and not uniform and looks so different on everyone. I can go about my day, because I don't have a choice, and function. I'm sad and it feels like there's a rain cloud above my head but I can be mostly present. T...
Read more