Ana said I'd probably write a diary about today. So I guess I should.

I cried a lot, but I cooked a damn good meal¹.

Details within.

¹According to ana, that is. Many, many thanks to BadDoggie for suggestions and a recipe.

-Hi, toxicfur. How are you getting along?
-90% of the time, I'm really fucking shitty.
-Oh. Er.
-No, that's an improvement. Really. Have a great day.

That's the conversation I wish I could have. Instead, I watch the tilt of the head, and I know the speaker is feeling empathy or at least making an effort to pretend, and I say that I'm fine, or I'm doing okay, or I'm hanging in there, or some other such platitude. People rarely want an authentic answer when they say, "How are you, really?" Sometimes, I forget and answer a little too honestly, and the discomfort is palpable.

It's been building for a while. The tension has increased, partly because of work stuff and partly because of family stuff. The loss has become more tangible. Today, in church, I barely held it together through a hymn I remembered both my mom and grandmother enjoying. A friend offered his condolences, and I began to shake, not quite holding back the tears.

Then I got home.

Today is the first Wednesday I've been home since my mom died. Wednesday is the day I always called her at 8:00pm. If I didn't call on time, she worried. If I called on a different day, it was because I had something to tell her or ask her. Wednesdays were our day to catch up and just talk about our lives. Tonight, I really, really miss my mom.

Inside, other reasons the day sucks. Also, I need some advice (skip down to the end for the question).

Thank you.

Also, random thoughts about the last six weeks.

In Boston. Finally. I was on the road from just after 9 this morning until about 1:15 tonight. Or, the next morning. Whatever.

We (brother J, SiL J, and I) spent the late morning and much of the afternoon with brother P and SiL A -- and baby H.

I didn't sleep much last night -- I kept waking up, thinking I'd overslept, and dreaming that my brother P wanted to be Vice President. I told him this later, and he said, "Now why the fuck would I want that?" He grinned evilly as he said it."I'd just have to cuss a buncha people out."

I have notes about the visitation and the funeral and the blur of hugs and the fighting of tears.

Today, though, was about life. My niece H was born tonight, and I stopped fighting the tears.

01/02/1954-01/26/08

To our mother.

Rest in peace.

In Christ's name you deserve it.

And thank you for all you gave us.

As I wrote earlier, today, my mom has been increasingly addled ("loopy," my aunt L called it). I wasn't always sure she knew who I was, but I didn't have any evidence that she didn't know. The music director (MD) at her church came to see her this afternoon, and she spoke to him, "Hey! How are you!" but I'm not sure she knew who he was either. MD was a father figure to brother J, and has been close to our family since then. He prays with us every time he visits, and when he does, it's for peace, for strength, for mercy, and for each of us. It's the "personal God" bit of the Baptist church that sometimes bothers me, and sometimes comforts me.

My mom is fading mentally. It's clear she doesn't quite know what's going on around her, and she has some difficulty responding to direct questions. She swivels back and forth and back and forth in her chair never stopping. She hasn't slept much, if any, in the past 24 hours. Still, she clings to life. Last night, she refused all fluids. This morning, she drank one and a half bottles of Sundrop before 9:00am. This is hell's own roller coaster, and I pray guiltily, wondering if I really mean it, for it just to be over.

Tomorrow, ana is returning to Boston, to save the last week of annual leave until I really, really need my partner (instead of just really needing my partner). I'm sad, and -- horrifyingly -- angry at my mom for keeping ana and me apart. That's completely ridiculous, of course, since ana and I aren't apart, even when we're in different places.