On Thursday, my mom was transported by ambulance to our 200+ year old home in Friendship, Maine. We set up a hospital bed in the living room by the old french doors looking out into the wintery woods. She is surrounded by old photographs and flowers, family and friends...as we all watch her die. We live in an owie-home.
I feel like I am living a movie...the Maine winters are so ethereal...grasses all brown and trees bare...there is no place quite like it. It all looks so sad and yet so peaceful. I love looking out the wobbly glass in our old windows and seeing the trees sway in the wind.
I have been getting up early in the mornings and sitting with my mom while the house is silent and the boys are alseep. It is nice. Yesterday we talked some about her memorial service, raising kids, and life. She has said some really wonderful things and I am beginning to feel like I have communicated some of things I want her to know.
This is one of the hardest thigns I think I will ever have to go through.
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