Going home

My Mom has always been a homebody. She loved her home more than anything. She & my Dad built their house, our home, in the mid-1950s; he lived there until he died in 2003; she lived there until she moved into the nursing home 4 years ago. We had been fearful that her transition out of the house would be difficult, but her mind & body were in such a state that she seemed to forget all about the home she had loved so dearly. Her room in 'memory care' immediately became her home.

When I drove north to visit her this past February, my brother said, for the first time, she was talking about wanting to "go home". We wondered what "home" she meant: her childhood home on the farm? her family home of more than 50 years? where? She wasn't fretful or insistent about it, she would just mention it from time to time then go on with other things.

Well, she's gone home now.

On the 3rd of April, during a very average day, she lay down for a nap from which she did not wake. While her death was not unexpected -- we've been slowly losing her for several years now -- we were very surprised. Her physical health was not great but was stable. We can only suppose that she was just tired & ready to go & the "home" she had been speaking of was not here on Earth.


Spring was just on the brink in the midlands. The forsythia were in bloom, as were the tulip & Bradford pear trees. Daffodils were up & flowering, tulips were up & budding. A warm sunny day or two would bring the redbuds to their full glory.