The End. Lots of Words.

We are still in Houston. We buried my mom yesterday, Sunday, and because she died on Friday night ("only the righteous die on the Sabbath" - we have heard this many times) and last night was first night of Rosh Hashanah (Jewish New Year), there is no Shiva. My mom was always considerate and never wanted to make a fuss, right to the end. So bwo and I will head home to EDH tomorrow (Tues).

It has been an intense few days. I am so happy we came when we did. We got to see her in the hospital and got to witness some of the "terminal restlessness" although it was nothing like the horror my brother and sister had to go through over the previous week. After she was moved to the hospice they kept her well drugged and much more peaceful. On Friday late afternoon the Rabbi came by and did this sort of Jewish last rites thing. And Hope from the Jewish chaplaincy service stopped by and left us the makings for shabbat. So we lit the little battery candles, said the shabbat blessing over the wine (grape juice) and challah (some rolls from Beldens) - my mother would have liked that. Then we went home for Friday night supper with all the noisy family (Chinese takeouts - what all good families choose after a day at the hospital). The call from the hospice came after all the kids left and only bwo, my brother, s-i-l, sister and Jay were sitting around talking. So we rushed off the the medical center, by the time we got there she had passed on. The hospice was amazing. Not afraid to answer all our questions, clearly and directly.

The last few days have been a blur, but still, there were many, many unforgettable moments: Hope blowing the Shofar in the "dead" silence of the hospice; my mom laid out so peacefully with her crocheted blanket tucked tightly around her; her hands, first blue and then clear; the strange little lady from the hospice with her hundreds of forms; me struggling to concentrate on a work call while listening to the doctor with one ear; the "death rattle"; Norah from the hospice and her quiet competence; my wonderful brother pacing up and down practicing the eulogy (5mins 17 sec); watching little Noe shovel sand into the grave; Jose and the boys slowly ratcheting the coffin into the hole they dug that morning; the ugly cement "crib" that the simple pine box is entombed in here in often-flooded Houston; but mostly that over arching feeling of security and caring and love that my family generate no matter what the occasion.

We laughed a lot and cried a little. I mostly get faclempt when I see how others are affected by our loss. Her passing was not tragic. After the funeral and bagels, when the family had left the house, we went to Shul for the first night Rosh Hashanah service. The pomp and ceremony at their huge shul here in Houston is not my style at all, but it certainly was interesting and blessedly short. Then off to my sister's crowded apartment for the traditional first night dinner. The food was great, they always look out for the vegetarian. And yes, there was brandy and sponge cake. My dad would have been proud.

This turned out to be much longer than I expected, and still it covers barely a fraction of the events and emotions of the last few days. The number of calls, FB messages, texts etc has been overwhelming. One of my brother's friends wrote something I hope is true. She said after losing her mother with dementia, that as time passed she found she forgot those years lost to the dementia and remembers her as the lively, bright person, full of life she once was. It's a comforting thought.

Lisa made this video, and it seems this blog is one place things don't get lost, so here it is. My mother and her family.