- She didn't like whites in her fried eggs, so every time I scramble eggs... I think of her. I whip the eggs thoroughly, just like she liked.
- She worried that if I drank chocolate milk all the time, I'd have a battle to keep my children from drinking it all the time. Lately I think of her every time I make a glass of chocolate milk... for me or for Sasha.
- Sometimes when I'm playing with Spencer, I think of her and am sad that she never got to know him. She would have loved him so much and would have been so tickled by him.
- My mom was a bit of a germaphobe when it came to sponges and other items used to clean. Sometimes when I use my dish brush, I wonder how it might have bothered her that I couldn't run it through the dishwasher regularly.
- Looking through pictures, it hits me that Sasha has already forgotten her Gran.
I went back to read my journal post about the day that we got the call to come to the ICU now. I was surprised that I'd left something pretty strong out of my post. My uncle's wife (a nurse at the hospital) was with my mother at the very end. You know how you hear stories of people that waited to die until a spouse or other loved ones were with them? It was just the opposite with my mother. When they told her we were on our way, my aunt says it was like she let go. She didn't want us to be there, to witness, to deal with her actual dying.
It stands out to me. It means something. I'm not sure what words to place upon it, but there it is. I miss her more than I expected I would. And I know I still have some unresolved issues with her final days. I hope I'll find peace in it some day...