My event reminder alerted me at 0257 this morning. I thought, oh, for the love of Pete. Did you have to set this at the exact time to go off yearly?

How are ya doing, Mom? It took me about four minutes to realize she answered everything with "I'm ok." She was not looking into my eyes. I knew I was in denial, and so was she. Maybe I could see reality if I saw it on video. I needed to assess Mom. I immediately sent the video to my brother and called him simultaneously. He calmly said, "Call an ambulance." Mom passed that night.

I got up and made coffee. This morning may be a good day to write.

Google Photos automatically makes memory arrangements daily. I have taken photos so frequently over the years I have given them much to work with. The first one I opened this morning was "The Best of November 2018," the year she passed. The second was from November of 2022. Seriously? I chuckled. I watched both the slide shows and sat and shook my head. I would start writing more frequently, and today is another post about losing loved ones, I questioned. The irony made me chuckle again. I do not desire to be a dark writer. Uplifting self therapy is my preference.

At times in life, denial is a safety buffer to protect the brain from overload. It only gives you what you can handle. Often, it is protecting my heart. It is cool as long as I am aware. That morning six years ago, denial set in because of my fear. She was not a patient. She was my mom. Denial broke rapidly. I did not replace it with rose-colored glasses. There is a difference. Living in reality can lead to finding solutions and answers. The rose-colored glass keeps me stuck in the delusion of denial.

How many people get to live sound of mind and body long enough to be in a five-generation picture? Mom was sure she would get to leave this earth after her 90th birthday celebration. We had quite the party with well over a hundred people. She was pretty angry as her 91st birthday appeared and was still hanging out on earth. She left shortly after. Her journey that day would be pleasing to Mom on how she left us.

I browsed through the rest of my Google memory slide shows. I oriented back to the current date and year. There have been many changes and memories made over the last six years.

Life carried on. God is good. "I'm ok."

nan*