Of shrouds and sand
I took Mom to the coast on Sunday, and it was so bittersweet to think that this was the last time we would ever again get to see the ocean together, touch the beach, enjoy the scents and the wind. We took my step sister along, and I ran the camera through a battery and 26 GB worth of photos. Mom is worried about the people she's leaving behind, but so completely at peace with dying, and her grace just leaves me so proud and grateful. My well of words is somewhat exhausted, so let me let the photos tell the rest.
And for the people who think I look like my mom, here's a photo of both my parents. I tend to think I look more like dad, but if you never met him you might say I was the spitting semblance of mom.
So mom's husband has requested that I make a funeral shroud for her from wool of my sheep, and I got detailed directions from a dear friend as to how to do that. It will be my task for the next few days here, and I think I take a little comfort in that, in a perverse sort of way. There's no great way to lose your mother to cancer, but the way this is all rolling out is so, so very much better than the alternatives.