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Pastimes : Let's Talk About Our Feelings!!! -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Edwarda who wrote (73326)	1/31/2000 11:08:00 AM
From: MulhollandDrive	Respond to of 108807

Good morning to you too! Yes, she sounds like a gem. You were lucky to find her... bp

To: Edwarda who wrote (73326)	1/31/2000 11:46:00 AM
From: Rambi	Respond to of 108807

During Mother's final illness, we hired fulltime aides-- I was flying back and forth to Dallas and relied a lot on friends and neighbors to keep an eye on things. I did let one go after I came for the final weeks since I was there at night. But both of them brought food to the house and came to the funeral, which I thought very touching. (Best part of Southern funerals is the food). They did a lot those last weeks. Dying at home was my mother's choice, and we honored that, but it does require a lot of the family and the helpers and it was not a pretty death, though nowhere NEAR as awful as my father's in the hospital- where he was drugged terribly, and IVd and forced to live too long. Was it here that you all discussed funerals a week or two ago? I think it depends a lot on personal preferences, and probably on the way you were raised-- But for us the funeral was a wonderful time. Skip and I had grown up in this small town and come "home" as adults to work for a while, and we knew everyone. My mother was active in the community and a very giving person, and people came from everywhere to tell us how much she had touched their lives. The library flew the flag at halfmast-- she had headed up the volunteer services for years-- and dedicated a new Children's Room to her. It meant a great deal to us. Also I finally understood the comfort of the familiar rituals--which I used to laugh at in my callous and callow twenties. When I think of my hometown, I think of the women and their incredible strength. I woke up the morning of the funeral to the murmur of female voices in the kitchen and dining room, preparing, setting out, greeting people who were dropping by food for after the service. They were women I had known all my life, whose children I had played with, fought with, grown up with, and who had taken part in raising us. ANd there they were, arms around me, an ageless female bond that goes so deep, it defies my ability to describe it. In the SOuth at least, birth and death belong to the women.