The Ride is Over

It’s been a little over a month since Mama died; the rollercoaster ride through hell had ended.

A month. Hard to believe.

Every day has been stuffed full with the cleaning out my parents’ house… trip after trip to the landfill, boxes and boxes hauled to resale shops, consignment shops, sorting and packing, sifting through dusty memorabilia, moving my daddy into an apartment closer to me, helping him maneuver this new life that doesn’t include mama. creating a new home for him. The many, many things that have kept me too busy to think about her death.

But now, Daddy is pretty settled in his new place, and the house my parents built, where I spent ten years of my life—where my parents spent over forty—is being readied for sale. Now I can finger the rosary beads of remembrance, focus on the good, and pray the bad will fade with time.

Mama is in a better place. Her mind is her own once again. No more suffering. She can sing. She can walk. She can remember. And even though I miss her, I’m so glad.

I love you, Mama. Hug Granddaddy for me.

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