Since my Mom died the days seem to pass in a blurry haze. I was kept busy at first with many things to take care of which didn’t leave too much time for thinking. Upon arrival home the busyness of her immediate death dropped off to nothing, leaving me more time to think than I’d like. There were still phone calls to make to friends (mine) which left me feeling weepy and drained. Yesterday I made the last hard phone call to a friend of my Mom’s that lives in Florida. I still have thank you notes to write but can’t quite rouse myself to doing that just yet. I plod through the days with no direction.

Since I was named executor of her will, all her mail is now forwarded to me. Every day there is a reminder in the mail box waiting for me. Yesterday it was a birthday card for her.

I try, I really do, not to let myself wallow in grief. But the losses just seem to keep coming. Just when I think it’s all going to be okay again, something else intervenes. Life, I guess. Swimming usually helps but it’s been rainy, grey, and very chilly here this week with temps in the low 60s. The pool does not tempt in this kind of weather. Walking and taking photos helps too, but again, not the weather for taking photos. I did, however, manage to go out this morning after our drenching rain of yesterday for the photos in this entry. I didn’t start out with a theme of tears in mind, it just ended up that way. Camera = therapy.

I can’t stop my mind from playing over the last day of her life in my memory. She hadn’t been feeling well with a cold over the past few days and was kind of up and down with feeling worse, then better. I kept telling her to go to the doctor. Finally, on that last morning I knew she was really sick ( I was thinking flu) so I made her a doctor’s appointment and found the daughter of one of her friends to take her that afternoon.

Two hours later I called to check in on her. I was the one that listened to the phone ringing. And ringing. And ringing; with no answer. I had the worst feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. I was the one who called her friend and insisted someone go over and check on her. I was the one who got the phone call telling me that they had found her on the kitchen floor. I can’t get it out of my head. I don’t know if the cold/flu had anything to do with her heart attack or not. No matter, she’s gone. It’s just so hard to believe.

She would not have wanted me to waste precious moments in life by spending them grieving for her. I know that. I used this poem that I found on fellow blogger Lettuce’s blog at my Mom’s gathering, and it fit perfectly.

You can shed tears that she is gone
or you can smile because she has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she’ll come back
or you can open your eyes and see all that she has left.
Your heart can be empty because you can’t see her
or you can be full of love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her and only that she’s gone
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back
Or you can do what she’d want; smile, open your eyes, love and go on.
(poem by David Harkins)

So, with that in mind I will find a way through this, bolstered by my memories of her and what a wonderful person she was. And by remembering how much she loved me. And I her. I will try not to dwell; but I certainly won’t forget.

I’m hanging on ...

I found it in the yard, completely intact. I thought it was a cicada but wasn’t completely certain until I looked it up. Isn’t it beautiful with its camouflaged body and gorgeous wings?

Thank you all for your heartfelt condolances. It means a lot to me.

We’re back now from settling my Mom’s affairs. It was an emotional week staying in her house without her there and making all the tearful phone calls to friends and family. With every call it brought all the grief to the surface again. We had to wonder what Mom would have thought seeing her house filled to the brim with Rick and me; my sister and her husband; our three large dogs and my sister’s bulldog. Oh yes, and my Mom’s cat: Pookie. The cat that doesn’t like anything or anybody but my Mom. The cat hates me. Always has.

Poor kitty, what was she thinking with Mom gone?

We found her under the bed in the guest room where Rick and I would be sleeping. She was hissing and growling at us per her normal behavior. I didn’t want to get too close as she has attacked me in the past with paws and nails flailing. What to do? My Mom had always said if anything happened to her that the cat would have to be euthanised because she didn’t think she could adapt to anyone else. Even the woman who looked after the cat when Mom made her trips down here to visit us calls Pookie “special” and gives her plenty of space and doesn’t try and pet her. Lord knows I have never been brave enough to try to pet that cat.

At first we thought we were going to try and catch her and just take her to the vet. The woman who usually watched her for Mom was out of town on vacation and due back the next day. So, Pookie got a reprieve while we waited to find out if the woman would want to take her in. In the meantime she was living in our room and getting used to us and the dogs. The woman returned from vacation and said she felt the cat would not fit into her household.

By the second day she started to come out and wander around the room when Rick was in there, and then when I was there. No hissing; no growling; no spitting. By the third night she was sleeping on my pillow. I was afraid to move or reach up anywhere near her, not knowing quite what she would do. At this point, her fate was sealed—she would be coming home with us to see if we could make it work.

When we got home we put Pookie in one of the wire dog crates so she could see us going about the kitchen doing our normal routines and meet the other cats pretty much face-to-face. Here is Sam making her feel at home.

We turned her loose in our bedroom and she’s been under our bed since Friday evening. She’s not eating at the moment, but she didn’t eat for a few days when we first got to Mom’s either. Last night I woke to find her on the pillow above my head. I think I was half asleep and reached up and stroked her head and back. I still have my hand. A little later she was clawing at my side of the bed and then I saw her slip out of the room and go downstairs. So, she is starting to adjust and explore. We’ll see where this leads. Maybe between the two of us we can work out our grief together.

I think Mom would approve.

My Mom. You’ve heard me talk about her here on my blog. My rock. My anchor. She’s gone from us now. So quickly and without warning; just like Daisy. My Mom died yesterday in her home of a heart attack. I am still in a state of disbelief and shock. This morning I am just numb which is allowing me to write this.

I was due to go and fetch her next week to bring her back for another 10 day stay with us. We had big plans: a reunion with her cousin; a trip to the shore; and a birthday dinner out. You see, it would have been her 81st birthday Monday August 27th. I bought her card just a few days ago. Now she’ll never read the words I so carefully picked out.

Mom was always in such good health—it was a total shock to us all. She was not a person who cared much for doctors, so had not been for any kind of check-up in I don’t know how long. We tried to get her to go, but she was made of stubborn stock.

We are heading to New York to take care of her affairs tomorrow. We will be back mid-week. My sister and her husband will also be coming. We have to take our three dogs with us as the boarding kennel is completely booked. I don’t know what Mom’s cat will think of all of them. She’s a bit on the wild side and has never allowed me to touch her.

Please keep us in your thoughts.

Here is a photo taken at Christmas with Daisy. Who knew then that they would both be gone from us within a month of each other. I will be writing more about Mom when I can manage it. I haven’t even begun to imagine how much she will be missed.

I know most people don’t even notice mushrooms in their yard or when walking in the forest, but both Rick and I are fungi lovers. Our cabin walks back in Colorado were always enhanced by finding new species to identify.

Since moving to NJ, we are fungally challenged. We are not familiar with Eastern shrooms at all. So far this year our mushrooms have been keeping a very low profile with not much rainfall. However, over the past two weeks we’ve had rain mixed with high humidity allowing the mycelium (ground molds) to grow and push forth from the ground in all kinds of mushrooms.

Over the past week my morning coffee walk around the yard has yielded great rewards. Mushrooms are fleeting. You have to catch them as soon as they pop up out of the ground because soon they will have “blossomed” and are gone. Or the squirrels eat them. It’s fun to see which ones get nibbled on and which ones are left alone for the slugs. I took some photos of a few when they first appeared and then what they looked like within about 8 hours or so. A few we have identified, but some we aren’t sure yet what they are. I know I will bore some of you with these photos, but I do want them archived in my blog so I’ll remember them next year.

I think this one is an amanita citrina (poisonous) I took before and after shots:

I don’t know what these yellow ones are, but they have a whole little family in the front side yard. They’ve popped up all over. I think they’re pretty. The squirrels don’t eat them.

These are Frost’s Boletes. They have pores instead of gills. Nothing ate them but the slugs ... very porous and icky.

Another pored mushroom. (not identified)

We have a great number of these ugly looking mushrooms. I don’t know what they are. Again, a before and after shot.

A gem-studded puffball:

We’ve had quite a few of these very large mushrooms growing in the leaf mold. (unidentified)

And least, but certainly not least—especially in sheer numbers—the squirrel’s favorite: a russula. These mushrooms come in a variety of colors. I didn’t take the time to figure out exactly which kind of russula this is.

I just wish the elegant stinkhorns would come up again! They were so strange. Nothing could be more un-elegant. Click here to see them last year.

That’s it for mushroom show-and-tell this time. Hopefully we’ll have a few more interesting ones pop up over the next month. We are certainly getting the rain and humidity necessary for them to thrive. At least something thrives in this humidity!