Unpointed Anger

This is a hard day.  Mom would have been 94 had she not died this year.  My brother and I had been visiting her for two weeks, and she was doing great.  We went out to lunch, went on long walks, but she kept saying that when Nan, our sister got home from a well-deserved vacation, she would die.  We didn't believe her.  But by golly, that's exactly what she did. She waited for Nancy to come home and my brothers and I to be gone and Nan and her husband went though all of that alone.

My husband and I had gone for a long weekend to Savannah.  I could have been there.  We could have put off that little get away, but I didn't see any urgency with Mom.  She was fine a few days earlier.  I called Mom before my husband and I left and she didn't answer.  That wasn't unusual.  It usually meant she was out and about. But she fell sick, and the assisted living place didn't call me. They waited for Nan to come back.

Mom couldn't keep food in her, just a little tummy bug, but Mom had an ileostomy and was ready to die.  One angel of an aide sat by her feeding her spoons of broth.  Nan got there just as it was time to get Mom to hospital where she bled out.

She asked Nan, "How are  my kids?"  Nan assured her that we were all fine and that we loved her.  Mom asked, "How much longer is this going to take?"  She was not patient once she'd made up her mind.  It didn't take long.

Oh, I was angry.  I just didn't know at whom or what.  That's the hardest kind of anger to let go.
It's the kind of anger I'm feeling now when I'm finding it very hard to understand things I'm trying to read.  The words sometimes fall off the road on the way to my brain.  And my fingers, that usually type faster than I can speak, have lost their confidence.

I'm hopeful that this is just a dip and that tomorrow will be better, because I've so much more to write.  I have so many more people to meet and love.  So I ask all my better angels to take this unpointed anger and dump it in the nearest bottomless pit.  Just get rid of it.

Someday, it will all make sense.  Of that I'm sure and for that, I'm grateful.