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September 9 came and left like a thief in the night. My sister-in-law texted. My brother sent a picture of my mother. My cousin sent a text. A very loving person placed a bag of goodies on my desk.

I could not think of anything to do in my mom’s memory, so I ended up taking Hope’s advice: eat a Dove chocolate.

My mother always had a bag of Dove chocolates in the refrigerator. She always chose the same flavor- dark chocolate without additional flavors.

On Sunday afternoons, after several hours of quiet reading in the sunroom, she would gather a little plate of chocolates and peanuts for anyone who wanted them. I doubt that other families engage in this Sunday afternoon tradition. In fact, I don’t do this and doubt my brother does.

This coming week would be my mother’s birthday. Will I do anything on her day? One thing I thought about was donating money in her name. One of her favorite places to donate was Elim Christian School. https://www.elimcs.org/hope-packs/ She always had a special place in her heart for people with special needs. Interestingly, her burial site is near a young girl who dealt with a severe handicap most of her life. My mother always spoke lovingly of dear Gabi, a member of her church.

What do other people do in honor of someone’s birthday who has passed away?

I wonder if my father will remember that it’s her birthday. I keep receiving texts from him. Unfortunately, I could not visit him last weekend due to COVID. However, I keep telling him SOON!

And then– what about birthday celebrations in heaven? Do people celebrate birthdays in heaven?

It’s strange thinking back to a year ago when Mom was at the end of her life. Flashbacks include Chloe crying at Waterford as she said her good byes before leaving for Dublin, Hope spoon-feeding Mom, and then the hospice nurse saying that the time was short, but we weren’t sure. I remember the 1 AM phone call and how I somehow drove the dark M-6 to meet the Hospice Team. ” Would you like her to be bathed in lavender?” they asked.

And then… my father’s reaction. I was so glad that I was the one to tell him rather than the nurses, but his deep cries and pain will never be forgotten. He always tells us that he doesn’t remember any of it. He was in shock and denial.

What do people do on the anniversary of someone’s passing? Do they visit the cemetery plot? Do they have a special meal in memory?

I have been trying to think of something and all I can think about is how my mother always told me to write a book. While in MI, I created a children’s book titled Smitten with the Mitten. It’s a good way to reflect and remember.

Seeing this picture in the middle of a day full of conflict made me smile. My dad! Fishing! It definitely made me stop and thank God for the wonderful care he receiving at Waterford. Even though I wish I could be there with him, I know that they are taking care of him in a variety of ways.

This picture, taken at the end of July, reminds me of so many things. The masks point to the pandemic. What will we say about these masks in 20 years? Will we still be wearing them? We are grateful for outside visits, but it reminds me of the ongoing restriction to enter residents’ rooms. Michigan winters are not kind.

Despite these uncertainties, I am grateful for the loving care provided by the Waterford staff.

It was refreshing seeing my father yesterday. He was doing well and looked great.

The week, filled with challenges related to COVID-19, seemed overwhelming at times which is why this visit came at such a good time. He wasn’t too skinny, was able to converse well, and seemed to hear better. The weather was perfect for an outside visit. The flowers seemed to welcome us and remind us that better days are coming.

Thank you, God, for providing good things and reminding us of your faithfulness.

It came on my brother’s birthday, a reminder of what happened one year ago. The memories keep returning– decluttering my parents’ condo and receiving the knock on the door, transferring my mother to Metro, her surgery, the night in the hospital with my father, another move to Freedom Village, and then her eventual passing in September.

It was strange receiving the invoice for the memorial on his birthday. I didn’t send him a text until the day after, asking about the payment.

The month of July will probably always be a strange month while thinking about my mother’s fall, but the first year is probably the hardest. The memories seem to fill my mind at different parts of the day.

Now today, my father is living at the same facility where she passed- Waterford. COVID-19 prevents visitors inside the building. He frequently Facetimes with us which is a blessing. His hearing is better. These are blessings.

The journey is different now. We are here in Indiana, dealing with COVID-19 school challenges. He is there, dealing with loneliness and emotions over being without his dear wife. Through it all, God is our comfort and peace. We cling to this truth and know He is always faithful. The Lord is with you mighty warrior.

Looking around our yard gives me a feeling of peace. The hosta plants are now blooming with their familiar purple flower. The variation of the hostas is a pleasure to view. The hydrangeas, although rather heavy with flowers, are an easy way to bless someone’s day.

Surrounded by a variety of plants inside and out reminds me of God’s constant provision and faithfulness. He provides growth and change for plants and will do the same for us.

Isaiah 40:31 “Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”

Art always give me a sense of peace. This newest piece, bought from an artist on Etsy, provides a different message every time I glance its way. Sometimes, I think about how different paths intersect. Other times, I think about how everyone is different but many have the same goal. This circular design is filled with recycled magazines which offers a totally different message again.

Decisions are like this art as well. Sometimes, one needs to produce various templates, documents, and pathways to end at the final point.

We need more art in this challenging world.

The move seemed like the best answer to my father’s situation. Royal Park served him well, but we wanted a different environment where he would thrive. Waterford seemed like the perfect answer, but is it?

As soon as he entered his new room and sat in the leather chair, the comments came flying like darts. “Where is my chair? This room is cold. I feel forsaken. Why did you bring me here? I had no say in any of this. What about my clothes? There is NO way they will fit in this small closet.” It went on and on.

I quickly told Mitch to get his chair back and enlisted my brother’s help with the tirade of complaining and grumbling. At one point, I became angry and told him to stop grumbling. It was a mixture of compassion and irritation while completing the task of rearranging clothing and other items.

Interestingly, my dad’s demeanor changed when my brother returned. For some reason, my dad’s emotions are only shared with me.

The day ended with us leaving, although I must admit that I didn’t feel very compassionate. I know I should have, though.

It is not easy to move or change environments. We long for routine and normalcy. We don’t feel like being flexible, even though flexibility can provide new opportunities. It’s all very difficult, but we still need to find gratitude in the midst of it all.

I am grateful for the move and hope it provides new opportunities for him as his journey continues.