The emergency room doctor called and advised us to start making preparations. Not vague ones. The kind that come with deadlines. We’ve entered the part of the story where endings are expected.
I spent several hours with her yesterday. I asked questions. She gave short answers. Sometimes I stared at the wall like I was seeing something I couldn’t. I tried to hold it together.
She kept saying, "I'm ok." Over and over. "I'm ok."
She said she doesn’t want much. Just for us to love her. If she ends up coming home, she wants us to gather to watch a movie. Simple. Just like mom.
She told me she wants to be cremated. No funeral. No flowers. She’s not religious. She asked that we keep her ashes until my father dies, then place them together. She said, if I wanted to write something, that was fine. But she doesn’t want people to make a big deal. I told her they probably will anyway.
She shrugged and said, “I’m ok.”
I wrote down what she wanted. I held back tears for as long as I could. She’s mostly blind and couldn’t see them, and I didn’t want her to know I was struggling. I made another checklist. One I didn’t want to write.
She says she’s ok and asked if I was. I don’t think I am, but that’s ok.