One Coming, Two Gone

Today my son called to tell me his son will probably be born tomorrow. I am so looking forward to his next phone call! Every birth is exciting. They have thought so long about a good name for him, I can hardly wait to hear who is he. His nearly 3-year-old brother and nearly 5-year-old sister must be very excited by now.

And my son-in-love's grandfather died today. He was about 94 and had lived a long, healthy, loving life, so his death is not really tragic, just sad.
His family has decades of good memories for comfort.

On the other hand, my granddaughter's friend and classmate died too. He was about to graduate from high school, the track team captain, and had just finished a big race when he collapsed on the field. A nurse and the coach tried CPR, but he never came back. Possibly a heart defect they didn't know about. But that is tragic as well as sad. He will never become an engineer, never wear uncomfortable clothes to give away his daughter at his wedding, never have a grandchild. I don't have to know his family to feel sad for them. And my 18-year-old granddaughter, who has lost a second high school friend to unexpected death within a year or so, grieves.

Life is joyful and painful. I am so thankful that this is not all there is.

The Great Dogwood Trail

Today we went to Lowe's to get some new slats for the swing and some paint for the woodwork, etc., just springtime chores.

Just before that we were visited by some ladies who live a mile or so from us who wanted to know what we knew about the pit bull people (who now have no trespassing signs nailed on the house) because one of them had a small dog killed by them about the same time Zipper was attacked.

When we came back from Lowes, we cut through the road where one of the women lived, just to see her place. Then I asked about the other one, and when we got to our road, Don turned left to see which house was hers. Then we kept going and going and going, driving slowly along toward the other end of our road. The dogwoods along this trail are absolutely beautiful. I've never see it like this, hills and ravines full of beautiful white trees. I thought it was really sweet of Don to take me on this little five-mile drive. I even thought he might be taking me to lunch at the Take-Me-Back cafe.

Alas, then he said, "Well, where's our house?"

My absolutely un-pigeon brained husband had forgotten that he made a left turn instead of the right turn that would have brought us home in half a mile.

I made him look at the beautiful hills and valleys anyway.

Good Day

What kind of day is it when you are just really thankful that someone you love ate half a chopped steak and a cup of potato soup and didn't have to run from the table because it came through so fast? A good day, that's what.

It's a good day when your 92yo mother decides that if the shingles are going to be with her for longer than she expected, maybe even the rest of her life, she's going to keep living in spite of shingles and get her hair done. Even if she has to take pain pills. Even if her wardrobe is limited to whatever is loosest. She's aiming to go to church!

It's a good day when the dogwood and the redbud bloom at the same time. And when the early azaleas start coloring up a month before mine will.

Lots of reasons for a good day. One of my favorite scriptures: This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it.

Two Other Sisters

Today Bobbie came to see Mama. She is, of course, more like my older sister than an aunt, and it was easy to see the mother/daughter relationship between the two of them. Tomorrow is the 72nd anniversary of the storm that cemented it, and they talked a little about it. Both of them have very vivid memories of that awful night. While Mama was having her toenails cut, I took Bobbie to see about Raye and she told me some story about the storm I hadn't heard from Mama. What a thing to look back on! I guess we never forget the big tragedies, or the big blessings.

Mama will be in the hospital until Monday. Dr. Harrison wanted her to have some therapy, but the PT came in today and performed some "push me, pull me" exercises and took her for a walk in the hall, and said she is remarkably strong and balanced for a 92-year-old. She'll be back tomorrow with a HEP for her. Mama wanted to go home today so she could go by the funeral home to see her friend Geri Rumft's family. Not that she could have anyway. But she will miss Geri.

She is breathing noticeably better, but she does want the oxygen. She said she knew she was in the hospital when they put that thing in her nose. She said, "I'm afraid I'm getting addicted to it." I told her that people can't "get addicted" to oxygen because we're born needing it pretty badly. She said well, she felt like she could. I told her to go ahead, we'd see that she got all she needed. The nurse, who had been trying very hard not to laugh, went ahead and giggled and said, "Well, Ms. Cate, I'm going to leave a note for your doctor that you think you need oxygen. I bet he lets you have it." Mama is eating well and still getting rid of a lot of fluid. We're going to buy her a hospital gown or two because it's so easy for her to go to the bathroom. Don't know why I hadn't already thought of that. She says her shingles are much better, but forgets that they are shooting her with painkillers.

Tomorrow I'm going to try to get Don to go with me. He can visit with her during Geri's funeral at 10:00. Then we'll come back to Murray for his friend Murelle's funeral at 2:00. I sang a funeral this morning: that's 3 in 2 days, all for people who were 90+. Makes me realize how blessed I am to still have Mama and Daddy.