I had a tussle getting Java to use cat litter, after Gigi was killed by a coyote and the option of letting Java and Lily come/go as they pleased was withdrawn. Cat Attract worked and remains in favor. It doesn't smell like anything that I can tell - yay for that, since I hate nearly all scents.
My mother died four years ago today. My sister made up a little Day of the Dead kind of alter on my kitchen bar, and lit a tea candle. There's an apple and cup of tea there in one of her old teacups that was free from either the bank or the grocery store - it was our daily china when I was growing up in PA.
May the lovely memories of your mom bring you peace and comfort, Java cat.
What Laura said, Java Cat. Peace to her memory.
ND and I are about to board our flight to CT. My gram'a memorial is tomorrow. I'm working on my speech on the plane. Bittersweet. She had such a long life, but it's always sad.
Gud, I just saw the news about TCBITW. I'm so terribly sorry to hear it and relieved she is out of the woods.
They'll give her the help she needs. One day this trial will be behind all of you. She WILL be ok and happy and safe once more.
Hugs, Pix. I really enjoyed your posting of pictures and memories of your grandmother. Enjoy the time reminiscing with your family.
Typo, about your mom's potential for remaining in skilled nursing care, do be sure to mention any accessibility issues with her home - i.e. steps in and out, stairs within, bathing needs, etc. It is possible that if she would require a personal care attendant (IIRC you do a great deal of her care, but if she will require more assistance than you can give) for an extended period of time versus a relatively shorter period of time within the skilled nursing facility, the insurance might take that into consideration.
I got flu vaccine and a pneumonia vaccine last Thursday. The arm with the flu vaccine is currently on fire.
Hugs, Pix. I really enjoyed your posting of pictures and memories of your grandmother. Enjoy the time reminiscing with your family.
Thanks so much. It was much more difficult than I thought it was going to be. I had a long speech about her remarkable impact on me (which I posted on FB, should anyone want to read — or if you don't FB, happy to share via email), and I felt totally confident up until when I walked up to the pulpit. It's been four months since she passed away, and she lived such a long life — almost 103 years — and I'd purposefully made the speech sweet, but funny. I thought I was ready.
Then I opened my month, and my throat closed and the tears started, and I honestly didn't know if I was going to be able to get through it. It took me almost a full page before I finally settled into it and was able to steady myself to move on. I was doing that awful thing where you're reading and your voice is cracking and you can't quite get the next word out, and I kept thinking, "Really? Now? In front of everyone?"
But I'm so glad I made it. I'm so glad I got to share my memories of her. I'm so glad she was such an important part of my life for so long. And I'm so glad that I inherited at least a tiny bit of her boundless resilience.
A little excerpt from the speech to give you a taste of Grammy Frances:
Frances is my grandmother. She was born in 1913 in rural Maine, and she is one of the few true remaining Yankee farmers.
Gram is the kind of woman that makes Rosie the Riveter look like a girly girl. Case in point: at the age of 89, she was still living in her house alone. She had gone upstairs to move a television in her guest room — no, she didn't call any of us to help her with this task — and while doing so, her hip snapped. She landed on the floor hard enough to know she'd done some serious damage, but she also knew her phone was downstairs. Always the stoic New Englander, she began scooting purposefully across the floor, a few feet at a time.
By the time she reached the top of the stairs, she needed a break. As she rested there a moment, she noticed that the cat box was dirty. "Well," she figured, "I'm not doing anything right now anyway. Shouldn't waste time."
By the time my mother got the phone call and rushed home to take her to the hospital, Gram had cleaned the litterbox, pulled herself down a flight of stairs, dragged herself across the room, made herself a sandwich (she thought she might get hungry later in the emergency room), and taken a single aspirin for the "discomfort" of her broken hip. It was the only painkiller she took up until her full hip replacement the next day.
They just don't make them like her anymore!
