On my birthday and grief
Two years ago today I flew to Tampa to be with my Mom in her final days. Tomorrow is my birthday. On my 39th birthday we moved her to hospice. It was, without a doubt, the hardest day of my life. Harder than the day she died. * It was a day where I wore the crown and we went through the motions and we checked things off the list. Move Mom, check. Arrange flowers and photos the room, check. Feed Dad, check. Figure out who the hell is in charge around here and where they are, check. I haven't shared the pain of that day, the trauma of that day. Probably because to this day I still haven't processed it all. I haven't really talked about it actually, processing it must be further down the road. Women do these things, we are able to separate the mental and the emotional in times of great need or stress or pain. I was all business on my 39th birthday. It seems pretty cut and dry, Mom goes via ambulance to hospice from point A to point B. But the gravity of that, the pain that a...