I really love goats. And then we headed out.
Greg drove my car to Willits so I could relax after the workweek (stopping once to fill my radiator with coolant as it had, once again, managed to run dry--this time after 5 days). (I swear, I'm getting a new car this weekend. But I say that every weekend.)
We arrived very late. Everyone was asleep, so Greg got Sam settled and then we both went outside to catch the meteor shower.
It was disappointing. After an hour and only one sighting apiece we went back inside.
The next day was a very chill visiting day.
Jason got into my camera without me knowing it:
(He's cute in spite of it.)
Mom had received a first draft copy of the book she's been working on, which she asked us to read and help fix formatting issues. She napped while I read it, but asked me to let her know which parts I laughed at.
Greg took Sam for a walk around the property.
But really didn't want his picture taken.
I went upstairs with Mom to check out Aimee's quilt. Mom hasn't worked on it much lately, so I offered to help her out.
It's oddly important to me that, regardless of who does the work, "Mom's part" of the quilt is done by the time she dies. I don't know why. It's not my quilt. I don't know if Aimee cares. But I brought some squares home with me to finish.
Mom says she's feeling great, what with the morphine and the oxygen. She's found a better balance with the morphine so she's not quite as sleepy, but she seems a little confused at times and I'm not sure if it's related.
She's done more work on her sock:
And she loves the quiet, meditative quality of sock knitting. She loves the small, even stitches, the repetitive motions, the soft cushy feel of the yarn, the colors...There are so many good things about sock knitting and I'm really glad that Mom's enjoying them too.
I asked her about her personal timeframe. We know the doctor won't give any information or suggestions as to how she'll go or when, but several of us have had our personal opinions. I wanted to know if Mom had an idea for herself.
She didn't, exactly. She said she's feeling good, but that's just because of the comfort measures from hospice and not due to her health. She can feel the edema creeping up her body and starting to press on her lungs. Unless she focuses, she'll often stop breathing while she's awake. She expects to go while she's comfortably sleeping.
I asked her to give us some warning: a few days, twelve hours, whatever. If she can. And she said she's really not the type of person who wants to make a big deal about going out. She's never wanted to be surrounded by family and friends in her last moments. She'd rather die like the family dog: by sneaking off under the porch to quietly expire by herself.
I think it may be this week. I'm not sure I'm going to see my Mom alive again.
But I'm still working on quilt squares.
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