Thank you. And a few notes.

Thank you. Thank you so much.

I did a write-up for Dad like his for Mom, sort of. I think the one he wrote for her was more eloquent... in any case, mine is here: http://kyrielle.livejournal.com/1144612.html?mode=reply

In addition, I have been posting some memories of him and inviting others to do so. That's here: http://pheon.livejournal.com/451031.html - I'll be adding more. My main personal journal is http://kyrielle.livejournal.com/ - this was more a creativity space. Repeating everything twice is painful, so I am mostly going to update there, not here, about this now - details, day-to-day, etc.

And for now it is bed-time. Okay, it's past bed-time.

Good night, Father.

I didn't think I'd have cause to write a post like this so soon after my last one. Dad lost control of his truck on an icy road this morning, and was killed in the accident.

I will try to write something for him like he wrote for Mother - he deserves it, he was an incredible man (still is, somewhere nice but not here, if the Universe has any sense of kindness or right...). But I do not have the words now. I only found out six hours ago (it took them some time to find me as next of kin) and I am shaky.

For now: Oh, Daddy. I miss you so much already. And I love you. And I hope there's a happy after where you and Mom are even now together.

And to those of you reading this who are still where you can type on the keyboard...I could use some hugs, even virtual ones.

And perhaps some prayers, or good thoughts, or candles lit - whatever you prefer among those.

Good night, Mother.

My mother passed away last night. Part of me is glad and mostly I am very sad - the glad is that she did not last long after she could no longer communicate, and the pain began to be too much. (Of course, it was being treated, but still....)

My Dad's description of her, when he wrote of her death, says it beautifully, I think.

Julie, my wife of 40 years, died today. She had been ill for a couple of years, but it wasn't until last month that she was diagnosed with untreatable lung cancer. Thanks to hospice support, she died comfortably in our home. She was 61.

Julie was joyously cynical, mildly paranoid, a superb cook, stubborn as a mule, a good mother, a supportive and loving wife and a hell of a bridge player. She loved games of all sorts, and was a voracious reader, a sharp debater, a WordPerfect fanatic.

On LiveJournal, she was pheontoo, though she rarely posted, using the account to read friends-only posts. Julie is survived by me pheon, our daughter kyrielle, our son-in-law terram, her cousin Beth, a number of sisters, nieces, nephews, grand-nieces, and grand-nephews, all back in Ohio.

I'll miss you, Mommy. And remember you. And I love you, always.

Photos

Photos up at Flickr.

It's hard, right now. I don't know what to hope for, these days.

More words another time.

Voices

I'm not sure this isn't a silly idea, but...if so it at least was interesting to me.

Get Your Own Voice Player

Manage

Memories

These are mostly memories of me, not my mother - or my mother in the context of me. I am trying to write up some others, but of course our views of those in our lives so often center around their interactions with us. In this case I was actually writing up memories of myself, but they also touch on her. I link to where I wrote them up in my LiveJournal, years back:

When I was little and other stories.

I'll add a couple more that are not there, more Mother-centric or at least parents-centric:

1) When I was young, we had a dog named Meyer. Meyer was a Doberman-Great Dane cross. As you might imagine, he was a huge and very leggy dog.

Meyer slept on my parents' bed. My parents, very logically, had a king-size bed at the time, as otherwise it would not have been possible to fit two adults and a dog on that thing! Meyer tended to crawl up into the middle. And then streeeeeeetch. A dog that size can, in fact, occupy most of a king-size bed if he wants to. My mother, with the same slender light build I have, never budged. My father, probably half again her weight and sturdy, sometimes got shoved out of the bed, however. (Mother has generally been a light sleeper - I suspect she was half-waking and bracing without remembering it, but no idea if this is actually the case.)

2) Sweety. The first cat that was 'mine' growing up was a tomcat (fixed) that I named Sweety. (Mom thought I was crazy when I gave him that name as a kitten - he was a tomcat, and she tried to explain to me he wasn't likely to live up to it. I insisted. He lived up to it. In later years, among other things, I found him baby-sitting two litters of kittens that their mothers had left with him while they went to hunt. And letting the kittens try to suckle on him, without protest. Not that it was doing them any good, of course!)

Mom, when I was younger, curled her hair. (Not sure if it was sometimes or always.) I don't remember Mom with her hair curled. I remember the curlers, the old kind with the spiky points, rolled in wet hair and left in overnight. The sort to make you want to sleep on your face so they wouldn't press in so much. And I remember that Sweety caused my parents' bedroom door to be closed when the curlers were in (and ultimately, I think, led to Mom switching how she did her hair - not 100% sure as my childhood memories are weakish)...because he liked to sleep on her pillow. Above her head, which he slid down into. All 14 or 16 pounds of him (he was a heavy cat).

...that hurts just to think about, actually.

3) I don't remember this one at all, but Mother has told me this. I forgot the dog's name but I believe they said today that it was Twitch. Mom remembers this dog "chasing" a naked baby me around a coffee table...at a slow walking pace...and whenever I would lag, he would stick his cold wet nose on my backside, spurring me on! Apparently we were quite amusing.

Things I am grateful for today.

Cool weather.
Rain.
A full moon above evergreen trees at the top of a hill.
Remembering the route to drive after almost a decade.
The fact that the landscape was so little changed.
Silly goats that dash away from the fence as I approach, then run back to it making noises of eager, hopeful 'feed-me'-ness as I walk away. Sillies!
Cats, affectionate and sweetly selfish.
My mother is still herself, still mostly not in pain, still well enough to take part in conversations even if she speaks less. Still able to feed herself.
Music. Oh, music.
The fact that there was no ice on the roads, even if there was left-over snow on the side of the road, on Bald Peak.
Sales on miniature Christmas trees, even if the trees are gone when I get there, that lead me to the crafts store.
Sepia-ink pens. With which I haven't, of course, played. But I have them.
Books.
Junk food. Fast food. Every so often, these are happy things. (I'm sure they would not be happy if I ate them often.)
Mom's fudge recipe (which I also shouldn't eat often, assuming I can manage to follow it and produce the fudge - I definitely shouldn't eat the recipe itself, of course! :).
Narbonic. Because it is funny and cool and a wonderful story. (Warning: webcomic about mad science with huge archives. Can eat large portions of day....)
Friends. Kind words. Notes of support.
My wonderful husband. And my in-laws, who were so kind and patient about seeing so little of me when they visited this weekend.
Modern medicine. My allergies are soooo much better now!
Warm blankets fresh from the dryer. I think it's bedtime for me when I am being grateful for those.... :)