I am Jennifer.: every second counts

I haven't just come out and said what is going on, so I guess I should. Darrell's mother is very sick. And since she doesn't like the word being whispered, I will come out and say it. It's cancer. It's very advanced. And the reality is she's dying.

Part of me misses her already. I already miss her pointing out her flowers in the gardens this Spring. I already miss her bringing way too much food over for Thanksgiving. I already miss her calling me "turkey" with a sneaky smile on her face all the while (even though she's still doing that). :^)

And then the other part of me knows that every day is still time to spend getting to know her and making her time left as good as it can be at this point. I can bring her fun stuff and help here and there when I can. But I can't make the pain go away. And I can't stay with her so Darrell or his sister can get sleep. I feel like I'm tied to a tree in the front yard while her house is burning down.

For some reason, I can talk about her condition when someone asks. I can tell them all about how she's feeling, what the latest stumbling block seems to be, and how Darrell's faring. But I get weepy when anyone asks me how I am feeling through all this or tells me what a help they're sure I am. Or if they mention the word "transition," particularly "helping with her transition." I'm an emotional minefield, and I do appreciate those that are brave enough to face the possibility of an explosion.

On that upbeat note, here are our Xmas photos from this year.