Mom Wants Details

 During my visit with mom on Saturday, she had a great deal on her mind and so many things she wanted to discuss.  I will share some of them in this blog.
 

 

“Guess . . . who  . . .  I  . . . dreamt . . . now.”

“I give up.  Who did you dream about?”

“Tillie”

“Uncle Tillie, your brother”

“No!!!  My . . .  son”

“Mom, Tillie was your brother.”

“Julienne . . .  not  . . . Tillie  . . . !!!   My . . . son.”

“Are you telling me you did not see Tillie in your dream?”

“Right  . . .  you, Julienne  . . . my daughter.”

“Did you see Jerome or Jamie?”

Mom nodded her head confirming, “Yes . . . Jerome”

“You saw Jerome in your dream?”

“I saw  . . .  Jerome.”

“Did he talk to you?”

“No . . . I saw him . . . then he disappeared.”

“You must have been thinking about Jerome before you went to bed.  Then he popped up in your dream.”

Mom shrugged her shoulders as if to say ‘maybe’ but she said nothing more about this subject.

 

“My  . . . eyebrows”

“Your eyebrows look good, mom.”

“I  . . .  dreamt . . . they  . . . were . . . huge.  Someone  . . . penciled in . . .  looked . . . ridiculous . . . like . . . clown.”

“Good thing, it was only a dream.  You look beautiful, mom.”

 

“Are . . . you . .  . going . . . do . . . my . . . makeup?”

“Mom, if you want I will put some blush or lipstick on you right now.”

“Not now . . .  when I die!!!”                                                                                    

“Sometimes I am slow, mom.  I understand.  Normally, they do not let family do the makeup, but I will make sure you look beautiful.  I promise you.”

 

 

“Your girlfriend  . . . who died . . . was in urn.”

“Are you talking about Gail who owned the Canterbury Shoppe?”

“Yes  . . . you and Ron  . . . want that too.”

“You’re right.  I am amazed you remembered mom.  Ron and I do want that for us. It is called being cremated. 

“Me  . . . too?”

“No, mom, you will be in a casket like dad and every other person you have ever known.”

“You . . . picked . . . it . . . yet?”

“Yes, mom, Jamie and I picked it out a long time ago when The Community* asked us to six years ago.”

“What does  . . . look like?”

“Mom, the bed has a silk pillow and silk all around it.”

“Oh  . . . Color?”

“I don’t remember.  I know the casket is very nice.”

“Can show . . . me”

“I do not have a photo of it.”

“I want . . . to see”

“Mom, the casket is at the funeral home.  You want me to go there and take a photo and bring it to you so you can see the casket we picked.”

“Yes”

“Mom, let me think about that for awhile.”

“Just  . . . take . . . picture,” mom pointed to my phone.  She has seen me take hundreds of photos with my phone so to her this made perfect sense. 

I try to always want to respect mom’s wishes.  I am sure many people plan their own funeral. I am a little uncomfortable with her wish.

“I’ll do it for you, mom. I am not sure when, but I will take a photo and bring it to you.” 

 

“Lena and Al”

“Yes, Aunt Lena and Uncle Al both had caskets.”

“No . . . buried with them?”

“I do not understand.  Why would you be buried with Aunt Lena and Uncle Al?”

“Their  . . . plot . . . 4 spaces.”

“Mom, they are buried in the ground. You are going to be next to dad in mausoleum.”

Mom lifted her eyebrows and smiled, “Mausoleum!”

“Above ground, mom.”

“Above . . . ground . . . oh . . . good!”

Since mom is discussing her funeral I thought I would mention something that would make her happy.  “Mom, would you like your favorite song played?”

“Which  . . . one?”

“How Great Thou Art”

“Nice”

“I know you always loved hearing that song.”

“How  . . . about . . . Sentimental Journey?”

“I never heard that song played at a funeral.  I didn’t even know you liked that song.  I will listen to it.”

 

Mom has a lot of time to think. Her mind is active and thinking about everything including her funeral.   I spent most of the afternoon with mom. She had so many questions; I answered them the best I could.  There was still so much more we talked about but the blog for today is ending as it is already long. One thing I have learned about blogging is that I relive the entire event again and sometimes that is exhausting.