I now have another reason to honor 911

I received the phone call this afternoon that my mother passed at Hospice in AZ. I am not at all sad because she passed comfortably and had lived 90 years. She always said she had to go first, so she did. We had some good laughs this week talking about how silly it is dying. She had a little fit with my brother and SIL with her hospice room, and I told her that we could always put her in the psych ward until her meds catch up, she laughed and we enjoyed talking about her great grand kids. The best part was that when we visited this spring, my two year old dog jumped in her lap as she sat in her lazy boy. She loved dogs and was like a little girl, and always had to ask how Wilma was doing. The two of them would cuddle in her lap. Dogs can sense the pack and when to give a good licking to a dying lady.

We do not have much to say getting into this world, and we have little to say leaving this world, but in between you can only play the cards you are dealt and smile. She was widowed with two young boys, and did the best she could, and lived a long and happy life. My brother who is a fundamentalist never approved me sneaking her off to the Indian casinos to play her slot machines, but we both giggled on how roles had reversed, and how she enjoyed breaking the rules and being the bad girl.

We will do a graveside in a few weeks in Birmingham, and she is the first in our family to be cremated, and I will be next, so it should be interesting to see the response, but both of us felt it made sense. 911 now has an additional meaning.

Sorry for your loss.

I'm sorry for your loss.

I'm sorry for you loss, Seaoat.