Ok, that last post was a bit melodramatic.

The full impact of my mom’s situation is coming to rest on my shoulders – and I’m not quite prepared for it. She’s doing fine, no reason to panic. It’s just that every day I realize that we don’t have endless days. None of us do.

Tonight my mother signed a power of attorney. With my name on it. My brother’s name is on it as well, but I feel the weight of that responsibility now – and nothing is different except a piece of paper that says I have to do it. I’ve been paying her bills and organizing her life and telling my brother where to take her and when. That piece of paper weighs a thousand pounds.

MoC and I didn’t always get along. Somewhere in the archives I’ve probably said that before, but I know I didn’t go into any detail. I won’t do it now, either, because it wasn’t pretty. Part of it was growing pains for me, part of it was life collapsing around my mother, part of it was just general chaos. But I remember the time when we couldn’t be in the same room without yelling at each other. Except she didn’t yell.

My father’s birthday is in a few days. He would have been 78. That blows me away because the picture in my head is 20 years younger. Sometimes I wonder what he would be like today. If I didn’t get along with my mother, I certainly didn’t get along with my father. He was complicated (like me), reactionary at times (like me), brilliant (duh),  and sometimes brutal. I used to be that way. Age and the events of my life mellowed me. And one of the major events of my life was the death of my father. It changed me. It changes everyone, I think, but for me it was harder because I didn’t really like him much. Twenty years has taught me a lot and I think I would like him now – or if I could go back, the me I am today would like the man he was back then. I think. I don’t know. I wish I had had the time with my dad like I’ve had with my mom.

I don’t know why I’m writing any of this. I don’t know what I’m trying to say.

I don’t want to be in charge. I don’t want the responsibility. I don’t want to make those decisions.

I’ve cried more in the last 3 months than I have in 30 years.

I look around at my family and my friends – and I feel totally and completely alone.

And in charge.

*I heard Margaritaville on the way home tonight. How’d you know?

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