Mom likes frogs. They’re everywhere. Glass ones, cloth ones, ceramic ones, frog earrings, bracelets, a frog on her watch, her shirt. It’s not that she buys them. People give them to her. I gave her a frog calendar this year. She has it hanging on the kitchen cabinet and she’s already filled in things like doctors appointments. On January 6, the day after I leave, she has drawn a bunch of tears. Makes me want to cry just thinking about it.
I went to Zeebatronic today and read the sad news of her Grandfather’s passing. I jumped to Gary Turner’s blog from a link on Mike’s. Gary has just had a daughter and lost his father. He’s written beautifully about both.
I feel like a sponge, soaking up sorrow.
Ken is better. But still not walking well. And Mom is anxious for things to get back to a normal that may never come again. And here’s the deal. Having aging parents means living with the ticking clock of their fragility. In truth, every time you say goodbye to someone you may not see them again. But saying goodbye on Monday will be different. And today, I can’t stop crying.