Tag: life’s journey

The Estate –

So “The Estate” cracks me up. According to The Will, “The residue” of The Estate is to be divided into four even parts. Isn’t that such a funny visual? He gets 1/4 the residue. I get 1/4 the residue. They each get 1/4 the residue. I used to tell her leaving me in charge of three crumbs and expecting us to split it four ways is a silly venture.

Anyway, The Estate now has its own bank account after my great adventure from the last post.

I called, as the Manager of The Estate, Wells Fargo last night. Lots of 800 numbers. Much punching of the buttons. Several redials. Spelling and reselling my name. Giving account numbers.

I started with the first number I found and that got me to a sweet girl named Natalie. Now that I cry less I am usually able to get through the sentence, “my mom passed away and I need help with The Estate” without melting down. Made it through that and Natalie, being maybe in her 20s, awkwardly asked, “Was it too soon?” Not sure what she meant but my reply, “I suppose when a mom dies it’s always too soon.” More awkward silence and then we move to why I’m calling. Mortgage. Credit card. Natalie gives me the phone numbers and transfers me to mortgage since that closes at a certain time but credit cards is 24 hours. Good to know. And they are on Central Time so time’s a wastin’…

I get through to mortgages where a sweet lady pours out her love, blessings, and prayers for me and my family in this time of loss. Sincerely. As if I called the crisis line she expresses how deeply saddened she is to hear about my mothers passing. She takes all the information I have and gives me a new department to call with the official title of Life Events. It isn’t open this late but she is extremely kind and lets me know that Life Events will be privileged to help me and suggests I wait until after the holiday. Her kindness almost steals a tear but I managed to thank her for her support. She transfers me to Credit Card guy. I get disconnected but since they were so smart to tell me all the numbers I’d need I redialed with only a few seconds on hold.

Then Nick in Consumer Credit answers and again I make it through the introduction and again I am consoled and comforted by a young guy who cannot quite imagine a loss like this. Nick is helpful in explaining that I will need to speak with someone in the “Deceased department”. It is actually called that! Of course it’s after hours but he says someone will “reach out” to me most likely after the holiday.

The goal in these calls is to find out what to do about two debts I’m not personally responsible for but are my responsibility to manage for The Estate. I explain that The Estate has no money, the house will be sold to satisfy those debts, and the Residue will be split evenly amongst The Heirs. In the meantime what can they do to help? And what MUST I do to protect The Estate and The Heirs. And myself. The lawyer says loan The Estate the money to keep the payments on time to avoid fees and penalties. Easy for a lawyer to say and exactly what I would prefer to do. Most people I know, however, do not carry around that kind of cash. It can be done and it will be done but if Life Events and Deceased Department can alleviate some of the pain–suspend interest, etc. that will make it much easier on everyone.

So until next week The Estate is not in focus. Thanksgiving is! Sometimes she came to Thanksgiving. She brought a ton of food, complained about my stuffing, wanted to go home right away. The past few years she preferred a TV dinner in her own house. Sometimes with a friend. Sometimes alone. She always wanted what she wanted and there was zero use in trying to change her mind. Cranberry sauce- not whole berries- in SMALL CANS ONLY- and don’t get any if there are no small cans. I say “you know it’s ok to not eat the whole can, right? If I get you a big can you know that you can save or toss the rest. You’re not required to finish it.” But no! SMALL CANS ONLY!

When the holiday is over I will contact what I suspect will be a few more compassionate people who, after I tell them why I’m calling, will bless me and commiserate with me and console me in my loss. The Life Events and the Deceased Department will be my project along with getting utilities transferred into The Estate of Janice J. Brown, Belinda Botzong, Manager.

Thank you for listening. It’s very encouraging to get a like or a comment. Follow this and you’ll be notified when I post if you’re interested. Share with others who might benefit. Or who might lose a tear or two with me. I love my mom. She was cranky and bossy and adored me. Sometimes I was not as patient with her as I’d like to remember being. Sometimes I was hypocritical at the end because I always tell people if there is no joy in your service then you’re doing it for the wrong reasons. Don’t sign up for something you are going to complain about. Do everything out of selflessness. Do everything to honor the Lord and he will bless you. It was getting harder to follow that wisdom as she was getting weaker and leaning heavily on me. She would tell me “You can fire yourself you know”. And I would roll my eyes at her and say – that’s not an option. I do everything for you just like you did everything for me. You are my mom and I love you. And now I do everything for The Estate.

©Belindabotzong2018

Moving Forward

I made it two days in a row with no tears. I even told my story twice with no tears. I think that’s moving forward. Five weeks have passed since I sat by her bed at the hospital holding her hand.

Today was a different day. Another day off work to handle the estate, as we are now calling it. Official. Judges orders. I’m the manager– what the heck is my deal with managing everything except those dang tears.

I drove down to meet the amazing team from Irongate Estates. They helped organize an entire garage full of her stuff which includes a minimum of a thousand chicken-themed items. Coasters. Figurines. Magnets. Hats. Figurines. More figurines. Chickens in every size and shape and outfit imaginable. Some not imaginable. Crazy chickens. Anyway, I would say that these are the nicest people in the world. RB, Carol, and Luke. I’m so impressed.

After a couple hours working with them I abandoned them with a promise of pizza as I headed to Mt Vernon to the lawyers office to pick up judges orders.

I got back to Sedro Woolley via the back way my mom and I always preferred – through the Nookachamps- where there were surprisingly only a small flock of snow geese or trumpeters. But still one of my favorite drives. The barns. The farms. The beauty of the Skagit Valley. And that’s when I lost a tear.

I stopped at the bank. I know most people are down on Wells Fargo as a corporation. But the ladies at this branch are so dang sweet. And Good at their jobs. And my mom adored them which I always thought was weird. Anyway.. couldn’t do the account without the official death certificate. Which I thought was in the pile from the lawyer but as part of my educational process I learned that the court keeps the original. And the only other original I have. At home. 35 miles north. Grrr. This wouldn’t be so annoying but guess what? Last week when I took everything to the lawyer to file I didn’t leave her the original will. I had made this double trip already due to all these requirements so today I was a little mad at myself.. and I still had to get pizza for the crew back at the house — so I placed an order online with Dominos and called in fresh rolls for me –and I had to pee so bad my eyes were floating. So I managed to make it across from the bank to pee, stopped to take a few pictures because I am always looking for another creation, then picked up the pizza. I must say here that the guy at Dominos in Sedro is the happiest guy. Last time I was there was to get pizza for my mom on a stressful day and he was so nice and cheerful both times. I told him he needs a raise. Good job!! (See that’s what I like– great customer service). Had to wait for Thai. But it’s worth the wait. It was what I got for my mom the last time I saw her. Fresh rolls with shrimp. While I was waiting one of my uncles friends finished lunch and was walking past me on his phone. I waved and he nodded. Then turned and handed me his phone. I said hello and it was my uncle. Haha. Small world. Small town.

Dropped off food and that lovely crew was flying through their well-rehearsed arranging and pricing …and had moved the biggest furniture without breaking a sweat. Such absolutely great people. I think I might have to change the title to Great Customer Service in times of grief.

Made it back to Bellingham, ate my fresh roll, even shared one with my son, then hit the road south — back to the bank where all went well.

I’m telling you all the details because it’s been so long since I blogged this grief experience. I had considered the past few days not sharing any more of this but for those of you who haven’t gone through it, you will. And maybe it’ll help you. Maybe it helps me.

At the end of the banking visit I had to walk to the post office down the alley behind Main Street and I did a photo shoot of all the amazing brick walls. I had to mail the letter to the lawyer agreeing to follow the rules and do my best to carry out the will of my mom.

Then I got a text from my sister just as I was heading home. Dinner! Yes!! Mexican food. At the last place my mom and I ever went out to eat. And one of my best friends mom came in with a group of ladies. The same group of ladies who were eating there that day with my mom! The Lord is good to let me hug my friends mom who was also my moms friend. Small town. Everybody knows everybody.

I came back home and organized all the estate paperwork into my fancy new binder the lawyer gave me to keep all the paperwork in.

I worked on my latest creations and now I’m going to pass out on my pillow. For some reason I’m a bit weary. But I feel blessed. Everyone I dealt with today was kind and the weather was perfection. I am thankful to be a little closer to moving forward.

©Belindabotzong2018

Recovery

I’m in recovery mode.

Recovering from international travel. While I didn’t suffer from jet lag, there is a return to “normal life” transition that has to take place as the gears get switched. From traveling daily with a large group of people, eating on a different schedule with different ingredients, and long days on a bus, in the heat, and sleeping in hotels … back to work, my own smoothies, and my own pillow!! And now processing all we did and saw and experienced. It seems a bit unreal in light of normal life!

Recovery from the trauma of grief and loss.

This, of course, will be an ongoing process of months and years. At times surreal and other times raw and wretched. Today is my first day of unplanned time since my mom left us on October 16. I have a day to do nothing if I do choose. 90 percent of the Saturday’s for the past several years involved going to see her, running errands for her, going out to lunch with her, picking up groceries for her, going on scenics with her.

This past Thursday I had to go to Sedro-Woolley to sign a paper and get a massage. As I came down Cook Road the snow geese caught my eye and tears poured down. We loved seeing the snow geese in our scenics in the fall.

Normally I would have then gone to get her and do any of the above with her. Or might have taken a nap at her house. But her house is empty and she’s not there wondering what time I said I’d be there. She’s not confused about why someone would pay good money to get a Massage. She’s not anticipating my arrival. She wasn’t holding her hairbrush in her hand when I walked through the door, saying “check my bald spot”. There was no envelope laying on the coffee table with my name written in felt tip marker with a heart over the i, filled with her bills, newspaper clippings, obituaries or sales gimmicks.

There was just an echo as I said “mommy mommy mommy why”. And I turned and left with my shattered heart.

And today I will do the mundane things that need to be done when one is recovering from travel and death. I will read the letter from the lawyer and gather the proper documents. I will pay bills and sort through papers. I will go to Whole Foods and buy almond butter. I may walk with my son at the harbor. I will work on my art as I am the featured artist this week if all weeks. I will prepare my demonstration of Petals as Paints for next Saturday when I also have no date with my mom.

Recovering daughter.

©Belindabotzong2018

Day 9, cont. Israel 2018

We just returned from an amazing show at King David’s – beautiful laser light show about the life and times of my favorite guy in the Old Testament.

As we were following Yonatan without our whisper devices for the first time we were talking about how it’s been this past week– if you wandered too far from his voice it became difficult to hear him and follow along. But as you moved close to him we could hear him loud and clear. This leads to a spiritual lesson. When God speaks he often whispers. If you’ve moved away from him too far it’s hard to understand or follow what he’s saying. And, just like when we were following Yonatan, when you wander too far you can start feeling afraid of getting lost or left behind.

It has been a trip of a lifetime. I’m so glad my mom wanted me to go and so glad she’s up there with Jesus for the past few weeks, seeing our adventure from his presence.

The tomb is empty. The cross is empty. Jesus rose in victory over 2000 years ago and the whole world is drawn to see the evidence of his life and times. He came to save and redeem and forgive all of us. Jew, gentile, Palestinian, Israeli, Black, white. Wise men still seek him. If you ever get the opportunity to come, take it. It’s not a vacation — it’s a spiritual adventure into the roots of our faith.

“Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: “May those who love you be secure. May there be peace within your walls and security within your citadels.” For the sake of my family and friends, I will say, “Peace be within you.” For the sake of the house of the Lord our God, I will seek your prosperity.”

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭122:6-9‬ ‭NIV‬‬

©Belindabotzong2018

Day 8 – Israel 2018

O Little Town if Bethlehem

How still we see thee lie..

Today was very interesting, humbling, educational and enlightening.

Our world view is so easily shaped by the news, politicians, the internet, and prejudice.

Today at least we can say that 35 Americans along with their brilliant and fearless Jewish guide were able to have our world views impacted by a beautiful, precious, and amazing Palestinian Christian named Barbara. I can almost promise that when you hear the word Palestinian most Americans do not envision such a lovely thing as meeting one who is Christian.

And I’ll go as far as to say that most of us have no clue that Bethlehem is in what is now Palestinian territory. And I know for certain most have no idea that there even are Christian Palestinians.

We took the bus into this territory so that we could visit the birthplace of Jesus. It was miraculous that we did not have to wait long as it is usually very crowded.

First stop was at a beautiful gift shop operated by a Christian artist cooperative, Handmade items carved from olive tree wood —nativities so elaborate and ornaments, jewelry, trinkets, and so many beautiful things.

We were a bit taken aback by the people selling on the streets — very aggressively — and its hard not to hand all your money to a little boy holding onto his sheep as you enter the town. Adorable little gig he had going there. Poverty is obvious and a bit overwhelming.

Barbara was delightful and answered all our curiosities graciously. She cannot travel freely. She cannot come to Jerusalem. She has lived in Bethlehem all her life and says there is little to do — no entertainment. Basically except for her tour guide position she dabbles in learning to paint and hangs out with her friends. She lives with her entire extended family – parents, married brothers and their children. She has been to America once to visit a relative in Sacramento. To fly anywhere they must travel to Amman Jordan.

When we arrived at the church where the manger is, Barbara navigated us all through a crowded scene. We had to go down into the area under the church and there is a 14point Star where it is believed Jesus was born and an area where the manger would have been. This church is separated into sections based on three sects that have claim on it. Orthodox Greek and Russian if I remember right and one other. It is very ornate and unusual. It was too hot and crowded for me to fully experience what I was seeing. But I’m glad we got to go.

Next stop was Shepard’s Field — the area where flocks would have been kept and where the angels would have appeared to announce “Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men”.

After this we walked to a restaurant. A lady named Ruth, another Palestinian Christian, owns this place and did a lovely job of feeding our massive group– schwarma and falafel, as usual. We bid Barbara a fond farewell and gave her a freewill offering into Yonatan’s hat.

This was all so valuable in helping us grasp even a tiny bit of reality.

We then headed to Mt. Zion and went to the place where Peter denied Jesus. A beautiful church. Then to the place where Jesus was held for trial. And to King David’s tomb, and to one place where Mary may have been buried.

We had to rush through as Shabbat was about to begin but there was so much beauty in the mosaics and paintings I’m glad we got to see it even briefly.

We have been blessed to get to know some of the people in our group, to know Barbara, Jonatan, and most of all to learn more about the roots of our faith!

©Belindabotzong2018

Day 6 cont. Israel 2018

After another generous buffet breakfast we headed out – me with a runny nose and beginnings of a cold. That’s when it’s good to be traveling with Savannah, who has tinctures and remedies! Double dosed on elderberry tincture and lozenges.

We left the Sea of Galilee behind and headed to the River Jordan. Several people in our group of 35 decided to get baptized. As our fearless leader Yonathon is Jewish he found a pastor from one of the many groups and he did the dunking. A majority were catholic so I think they have never had an immersion. Next to us was a group of Brazilians who were very vocal and singing and shouting with each of their baptisms. It was quite a joyous occasion. The river was a beautiful emerald green and quite beautiful.

This is not the same place where John baptized Jesus. The river in that area is more like a ditch and full of sediment so the place we stopped is an organized place where there is a place to rent a white robe and towel and they issue certificates. Savannah and I washed our feet in the river.

At a gift shop I got honey for Nicki and date palm syrup for me and a bag of coffee for my hubby.

After this was all finished we headed to an area with Roman ruins dating back to BC. It was only uncovered in the 1980s and has the public bath house, amphitheater and bathrooms.

It was really hot today- up around 90. The air is dry and it gets quite difficult for some of our older travelers to walk around. But they are hanging in there!

We then traveled south along the border with Jordan and into the West Bank. You cross checkpoints going out but not coming in. We were waved through without any issues. We stopped in a place where the Dead Sea scrolls were discovered. We watched a brief film and went out to see the caves where they were first found by a 14 year old boy.

We continued south and the change in terrain became stunning. Huge, massive piles of rock mountains that look like they could crumble with just a sneeze. Miles and miles along the Dead Sea with the only real vegetation being acres of date palms. We saw the mount of temptation where Jesus was tested by Satan. We saw the caves in the mountains where David and Saul hid from one another.

We finally arrived at Herrods resort right on the Dead Sea. Just in time to get to our spa service we had ordered. Mine was a full body salt scrub and Massage followed by a jacuzzi tub soak. It was amazing. Savannah had a mud wrap and Massage.

It got too late to go float in the sea so we will arise at 5 tomorrow and go straight down to the beach before we take off for Jerusalem at 8.

Now we have eaten from another stunning buffet dinner with a huge population from Ukraine and Europe staying here as well. Our hotel is beautiful and luxurious and now I’m so sleepy I can’t say any more today!

I can’t add pics as WiFi is slow but trust me // it’s all amazing!!

©Belindabotzong2018

The Original

One of a kind

Larger than life

Hilarious

Recurring descriptions on sympathy cards covered in flowery words

Kindnesses and thoughts from those left behind

She was an original

She wasn’t allowed to drive due to seizures

But she bought a tiny yellow Smart Car 🚗 for me to drive her around in and named it Buttercup

Her numerous doctors appointments were filled with her bragging about her Buttercup. She would get doctors and techs to come outside to see her Buttercup. The eyelashes my uncle put on drew all manner of attention. She, who otherwise was a more solitary being, loved and delighted in the attention Buttercup drew. People waved, stared, smiled and honked. People waved us over to ask about Buttercup. At the gas station, without fail, everyone wanted to know gas mileage and factoids.

She loved Buttercup and was always praising her for her looks and charm while I was cursing the horrible engineering that jarred my kidneys over every small bump. Not to mention the railroad tracks, bridge transitions, and potholes. French people should stick to making wine and cheese I would tell her. She would defend that Buttercup like a mother cub and hated my insults. Last month she made me get a license plate that said “BTTRKUP”- I had just installed it on our last scenic.

Her hair was a huge disappointment to her. As it thinned from over-processing and with age she was in constant distress over her “bald spot”. Every outing started with coaxing those remaining strands of hair into an illusion of lusciousness. Only my sister, a hairdresser, could pull off that magic trick. Then I would have to spray VO5 until I was gasping for air. It is the smell of my childhood – hairspray and Coty Wild Musk.

She loved loved loved bling and coordinated outfits. The collection of earrings we gathered from around the world was astounding. Funky. Dangling. Shiny. Butterflies. Ladybugs. Feathers. Tacky. Holiday themes. Nothing was too snazzy for her.

She had shoes in every color to match her outfits and loved to put little tiny clippies all over in her perfectly coiffed hairdo.

Rhinestones and ripped jeans. V-neck T-shirt’s in every color – Plus tie dye.

No one was their own name. We were all interchangeable in our real names but nicknames were all our own. Melissa. Pete. Oodie. Bunny. Gina. Booboo.

Shopaholic in those catalogs in the mail. Collections. Oriental trading. Piles and piles of amazing things that everyone needs and apparently didn’t even know you wanted– the possibility of owning a gun shaped toilet plunger should delight any redneck in the family. And if she knew you liked a certain thing it became her mission to purchase any possible item in that category. I like strawberries and have had that theme in mind for my kitchen since I was 12. She bought fairy strawberries. Twice. She bought a knife holder strawberry. Salt and pepper strawberries. Everything strawberries. She collected chickens. 25 years ago she worked in a hatchery and thus began the quest to own any item with a chicken motif. Years and years friend and relations poured their hearts into chickens. My aunt has a horse. My mom was set on the idea that this translates to wanting anything with a horse design. My aunt would disagree and this befuddled my mom’s way of thinking. She bought Superman socks for one of my coworkers because he was so sweet and he kinda looked like Superman. And Batman socks with capes on them for another who runs marathons because she thought that would inspire him to run better. Not.

She was humiliating – telling all her doctors that I was so smart and then arguing if I tried to interpret her rants and round about stories filled with all her nonsense words for them. She called out to strangers thinking they were someone she knew. So many times. It was embarrassing. She loved sayings that were inappropriate or off the wall. “Colder than a witches hoohoo” – bring just the tip of an iceberg. Saying words incorrectly on purpose brought her great joy. Brefkast. Really?

She could peel a ten pound bag of potatoes in minutes and was in a constant search for the ultimate spud peeling knife. Absolutely refused a vegetable peeler. And she diced those spuds into perfect cubes and fried them up for everyone.

Potato salad and baked beans. Pasta salad and macaroni and cheese. The staples of every bbq or feast. Cookies cakes and pies. Yum!

She got into certain “kicks” with food. I was in charge of groceries and she would go for weeks at a time wanting specific cereal or bread or whatever. The most recent was Raisin Bran with bananas. Before that it was frosted mini wheats tiny bites Only!! Groceries were a subject of contention with us. I celebrate instacart and click list as if they were nobel prize material. She despised that she couldn’t go pick out her own groceries. Constantly complaining about the size -flavor -color -quality -brand of everything.

She suffered with pain, seizures, arthritis, uncontrolled hypertension and poor nutrition choices. She fought the doctors and nurses. She adored the receptionist at the nephrologist. She could be rude or take them in like family. No matter what she was in charge.

One of a kind original. Gooie. My mom.

©Belindabotzong2018

Lists

Where do you begin?

Where does it all end?

What does it all mean?

We stood there the day after

Looking at each other

Them looking at me to lead them

Asking what to do

Where to start

How do I know the answer?

What thought process do I go through to figure it all out

Minds covered in haze

Hearts filled with grief

Thoughts and decisions covered in sorrow

Heart aching with loss

We all dug in with both hands

Sorting and sorting and boxing and dumping and keeping and tossing and loading and donating and discussing.

Rule number one — tell me what item is important to you and put your name on it

Rule number two — make a box to fill

Questions arise

Pictures? — we will pile all the boxes of pictures to distribute later. We will have a ceremony after the burial where we go through them together. This morphs as hours go by

Documents? Shred? Burn? There are so many. Then so many more. Medical papers. Receipts. Piles and piles.

Another plan is made. We will have a bonfire. Burn all the documents and as we sit around the fire we will sort the photos. Each person will have a beautiful box to fill with theirs. This will allow us to reminisce and remember.

Greeting cards? There are hundreds. Letters. Notes. Notebooks. At least a hundred little spiral notebooks and notepads. Address labels? We are talking a thousand. Piles and piles. And piles.

The notepads are full of lists – bills, groceries, peoples names and addresses and phone numbers. Repetitive. Historical. Facts. Figures. Ideas.

Paper clips? Tools? Batteries. So many batteries. Tassels? That one got us laughing. What the heck?

Phone calls need to be made. There’s nothing like calling government agencies and their 1-800 numbers. Exasperating. Get through. Get on hold. Get disconnected. Redial. Re-enter. Remain sane. Reach one of the kindest people in the world who efficiently cancels the 38 year long pension in about 38 seconds. The VA is highly efficient and friendly as they end that monthly stipend with a “God bless you”. Another thing checked off the list. Meds by mail. Check. Cable. Check. Lawyer. Check. Bank. Check. Phone. Check. Check. Check. The list grows shorter then grows longer. So much to do. So much to think about.

Estate sale. Realtor. Lawyers. Meetings and appointments.

As the list changes everyone else is using the physical energy to load. And box and bag and load some more. Calls are made to donate medical equipment. Four walkers. A wheelchair. Crutches. Shower chair. Toilet raiser- bought just hours before she died. Piles of glucose monitors, blood pressure cuffs and all manner of joint stabilizers and ortho equipment.

Beds and chairs and dishes. Pots and pans and bowls and kitchen gadgets galore. Furniture and furnishings. Toothpaste and shampoo and bars of soap.

Donations to the humane society thrift store. Boxes of clothes. Loads to the dump. A garage filled with estate sale items. Boxes filled with canned and dried food donated to the food bank. Mementos kept and discovered and shared.

Bursts of tears. Bursts of laughter. People stopping by. Nieces. Cousins. Neighbors.

The mind can not comprehend the amount of physical labor, the depth of emotional storm, the ache that’s being covered by action. The knowledge that when the action stops the ache will increase and overwhelm.

Most of my Saturdays were spent with her, sometimes hours on end. Sometimes just a short visit. My calendar is filled with upcoming doctors appointments that will now be cancelled. Our trip to Israel stays on the books but she won’t hear from us about our great adventure. She was going to follow our itinerary daily to understand where we were that day. Nazareth. Galilee. Floating in the Dead Sea. Crying at the tomb of Jesus.

We all have to go through the loss of parents at some point. It’s enormous. As our often dysfunctional family goes through all these worldly goods that sustained her life and lifestyle I pray God’s grace as we patiently and tenderly grieve together, forgive one another, and move forward together.

Proverbs 31

“She gets up while it is still night; she provides food for her family and portions for her female servants. She considers a field and buys it; out of her earnings she plants a vineyard. She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks.

She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy.

She makes coverings for her bed; she is clothed in fine linen and purple.

She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.

Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: “Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.” Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Honor her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.”

‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭31:15-17, 20, 22, 25-26, 28-31‬ ‭NIV‬‬

©belindabotzong2018

90-day Supply

The way my mind works this could be a disturbing art piece.

I am at the police station where you can drop off prescription drugs and over the counter medications and supplements.

They gave me a little paper bag to open all the containers and dump. That full, I went to ask for another and yet another. Then I thought of all the colors and dumped them all out again so I could take a photo because they are so beautiful.

They were to keep my mom going. Blood pressure. Kidney protection. Seizures. Arthritis. Pain. Digestion. Allergies. A 90-day-supply to keep her ticking.

They represent so many things. Years of battling against chronic disease. Years of research and development. Thousands of dollars spent to treat, prevent, or slow down the progression of illnesses.

But there is no magic pill to combat the years and choices and genetics and the design. We are made to deteriorate over time because we live in a fallen world.

The only way to end suffering is to finally die. We can work out and eat right and take supplements and never need to seek medical treatment. But in the end it all leads to the same outcome. Death.

The question becomes where do you spend eternity. It lasts a lot longer than the minutes we spend in this body.

Jesus.

©Belindabotzong2018

Get Over It

She was always waiting for the Lord to return to get us all out of this messy world.

As sick as she was this past week she never said she was planning to beat him to the punch and leave before he got back to take all of us.

Knowing that we are just temporary citizens on earth changes the perspective on loss and death. The sadness and grief and tears are not that she has passed on into eternity but the thought of being separated from her in this life.

To not have that one person who knew you from the moment you were born is the pain.

To not have her demands and expectations is numbing.

She would constantly tell me how she loved my hair, that I was boring because I didn’t live with bling and watch tv, that I was amazing because I’m so sweet (though I’m not).

She found joy in her flowers, shopping for her motifs, buying people things they never wanted or needed, donating to causes she couldn’t afford. She had a servants heart and she hated with a passion being the one who needed to be helped in any way.

She prided herself on being a homeowner, having her hair styled, and refusing to use her walker or the other medical devices.

She was a widow for 38 years– exactly half her life — and she devoted herself to working and raising grandchildren.

Grief is painful and difficult and raw. She hated that people might cry over her leaving. Don’t you dare cry over me, she would say. Don’t worry about it. You can fire yourself from taking care of me. You are not obligated in anyway. She said that! As if it were possible.

A month ago I told her that she was the best mom because she had devoted her life to us but it’s hard to provide that same devotion back because we all have jobs and families and obligations and selfishness. She had just broken her arm and we were leaving on vacation so she was in the care of the home health people. She was very upset by that but ended up really liking the ladies who took care of her. I called her each day from vacation and that was unusual because I hate talking on the phone. She hated that I hate talking (on or off the phone).

She asked me recently why I used to have more time to run around with her. She forgot I work full time and have a family it seems. I told her I’ve been working full time since 1999 and maybe she’s thinking of when the kids were little and I only worked part time. She did not believe me-/

Tears are therapeutic – a cleansing –but very annoying as your eyes swell and snot runs and your head pounds.

I am not crying for her. She is rejoicing in heaven. I cry for myself and the thought of no more scenics with her. We looked at barns and farms and mountains and that perfectly round tree she exclaimed at down by the river. Our times together centered more recently on scheduling doctor appointments and going through the motions of chronic illnesses. The scenics and lunches became part of our ritual.

She took on anything I became interested in. She thought it was funny that I recently became so creative. She started seeing flowers for my petals as paint project. She bought equipment for candle making. She watched for historical info in the paper for my novel. She was always interested in whatever we were doing.

I grieve because she loved hearing stories about my work and she loved my coworkers wherever my career has taken me. When we lived in Arizona she wouldn’t come visit but she turned her whole living room decor into a desert theme/ cactus lamps and all!

When I was a child I can’t remember sitting on her lap or hugs and kisses. I don’t remember “I love you” being tossed about. Maybe she was too busy with five kids. But the last few years she always wanted hugs (I know, right?? All those hugs she despised from everyone else I think she secretly loved) and kisses goodbye. Recently as we went through a deep mental health crisis with my son she begged to have me sit in her lap so she could hold me and rock me in her chair. That wasn’t possible but I appreciated the idea. And she constantly said I love you.

I am not sad that she is in heaven. I am sad that it’s all over, relieved she suffers no more, and thankful for such a devoted mom. So my tears flow and my heart breaks and she would say “get over it. I’m fine.”