Grief

My Sparkly Pink Obsession

| Flower Roberts

It has been going on for weeks now. I have been calling it the ‘Pink Sparkle Emergency.’ I have been searching for all things pink. Pink was Mama’s favorite color. I thought it was just a habit, this looking for pink in January. Her birthday is in January.

I found a pink heart dish for her gift. I got out a pink candle holder I made years ago. I will light the pink candle on her birthday. I thought the obsession would stop.

Ready for Mama’s birthday

It got worse. I needed a pink shirt and pink snowflake jewelry. Shirts came. Wrong pink. The jewelry did not sparkle enough. I shopped until my new hips hurt looking for the right sparkle and the right pink.

Finally, I have the right pink. The right pink? What does that even mean?

The right pink?

I was hoping the emergency was over. I hoped I could finally relax.

Last night I had a pink sparkle dream. There was a little pink sparkle dress. Maybe it’s from too much Wicked watching and Golden Globe viewing?

When I woke up this morning, I saw it in my mind. The perfect pink, the perfect sparkle.

Mama’s perfect pink sparkle dress

It was my mama’s evening gown. I called home and made Mr. Flower take photos. Just to be sure it was safe.

I have not been searching for the perfect sparkly pink. I have been searching for my mama.

Tomorrow is her first birthday after her leaving us. Grief does strange things.

FLOW

A Single Word

| Flower Roberts

April was supposed to be the beginning of my writing odyssey in the mountains. I have not written a single word of the book I have started. The Universe had other plans for me. I am used to this. I roll with the waves.


On April 1, my ninety-three-year-old mother was diagnosed with double pneumonia, sepsis and a UTI. She was taken to the hospital. An IV of fluids and antibiotics was started. She faded. She pulled the IV out and screamed with every touch.


We decided what she needed was peace. We stood by her bed feeding her ice chips and finely chopped food. Hospice was set up for comfort measures. She rallied enough to be sent back to her nursing home next door.
An angry rash developed that robbed her of her peace. Its source has been the subject of speculation. Her withered hand was in constant movement.

Mama Kiki

Treatments were changed but the rash kept spreading. No one could stop it. Our hearts hurt for her. She finally rested. Many good people kept eyes on her, knew her, loved her. We were blessed beyond words.


Our final gift was she knew us, spoke to us with her usual grace and manner. Dementia let her loose for that last day. We were who we were there in Room 11. We were who we had always been.

Who we were

She slept through the night. Mama was peaceful in the morning and left in a wink to be with all the people she loved on the other side. I had been reciting all their names for days,  in whispers. I do this to comfort myself that she will not be alone.

My only word for now is gratitude. My parents were the best they could be just as their parents had been. Many folks helped care for her, especially Debbie, Monique and Frances. We had angels with us the whole journey.

Gratitude for good end to a great life. That’s the word.

Thank you Mama Kiki