I apologize getting back so late to you, Michael. I’ve been distracted.
Since I did the edit, I got one of those telephone calls in the middle of the night. It was my sister, regarding our mother. She is dying. In another call today, my sister said that her next call would be The Call. I await that call.
The event with my mom is playing out back east in Massachusetts. It is not unexpected. She is 92. All the while before this she was living independently, and doing so with her brand of spunk and edge. But, some weeks back, she fell and broke her hip. That began the end. Even so, she was railing until just two days ago about being bed-ridden, having to depend on others, and when the hell could she get out of the hospital and go home.
Doc says it will be a matter of hours; 24 at the most. Infection set in at the site of surgery, and now pneumonia. No extraordinary measures are being undertaken.
I’ll get back to you.
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The call came. She is gone. 8/12/09. This a.m.
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My design is not to add any more grief to the pool. There is no grief, at least not yet. There are, instead, long powerful thoughts about you all; about everything around us.
Thank you, though, for those who have posted to this. Thank you to others who may.