March 2nd, 2018

Tripod in box

Mom died Tuesday

My sister called me—uncharacteristically—on Wednesday and left a message on my machine to call her, so I knew something was up. Mom had died, probably in her sleep, on Tuesday. She had had multiple health problems including dementia, incontinence, pulmonary fibrosis—which had begun in her 50s—and osteoporosis.

She had lived with my brother and his wife in rural Connecticut for several years; they had built a wing onto their house to accommodate her, which was nothing short of awesome; she never had to be in a nursing home. Since—I'm told—my brother was run ragged as a caregiver for Mom at the end in addition to his full-time job, I can only imagine both he and his wife are feeling relief tinged with guilt right now.

There isn't going to be a funeral; perhaps there will be a memorial at some later date, and my sister is sending me papers to sign so that my mother's ashes can be buried next to my father in the family plot in Connecticut.

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Roseanne Rosanadana

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