Rant #3,197: The Beginning of the End

I am finally back after my self-imposed time off from the blog.

While taking time off from the blog was something that I felt was necessary, it did not turn out too well, certainly wasn’t as therapeutic as I thought it would be, and specifically, it was a mess from beginning to end.

I want to tell you what happened during my time off in as chronological a fashion as possible, so just bear with me as you read what I have to say.

The reason I took the time off—the real reason I took the time off—was that my family and I were going on vacation, on a cruise to the Caribbean, accompanied by my wife’s brothers and their wives.

We had planned for this vacation for many months, and with my mother in various stages of health, we did waiver about taking the cruise or not taking the cruise many, many times.

It has nothing to do with who would take care of her while we were away—she would be well taken care of—but it had to do with just going away with her in the condition she was in.

And when we found out much later that my wife’s brothers and their wives would be going on the same cruise, we kind of felt out hands were tied—and we would make the best of it, since my mother was going to be so well taken care of while we were gone.

Let me go back to about two days prior to the first day of the cruise, where my allergies were affecting me so badly that I actually went to one of those walk-in medical places to take a COVID test.

Although I did not have COVID, I was diagnosed with a mix of a cold and bad allergies, and I subsequently wore a mask for just about the length of the cruise.

Bad omen, very bad omen.

So, on Wednesday, August 23—my son’s birthday—we went on our cruise, and I figured that the sea air would clear my mind and my soul.

Because of Hurricane Idalia, our cruise was almost immediately rerouted away from the thrust of the storm, so we never got to Puerto Rico nor to somewhere else I cannot remember, basically settling on Grand Turk and the Bahamas.

Another very bad omen.

Two days into the cruise, I was contacted by my sister—my phone worked the entire cruise, believe it or not—and she told me that my mother was in the hospital again. She was completely unresponsive, and from what it sinded like based on my sister’s description, my mother had had a major stroke.

I was going to come home in the middle of the cruise—I would have to wait to the later portion of the cruise to do it, from the Bahamas—but my sister and I decided that it was better if I stayed the length of the cruise, so I did just that.

(As an aside, the cruise line did not like the fact at I was thinking about leaving the cruise right I the middle of it, was very condescending to me when I asked for help, and their behavior towards me is something I won’t soon forget.)

So I went about the length of the cruise getting regular updates from my sister, but it was not anything good.

My mother was comatose, under very heavy sedation, and could go at any second.

I tried to get through the cruise, but frankly, I was out of it most of the time.

One moment, I was fine, the next moment, I wished that we were home.

I actually fell asleep during a few of the shows, and each day passed by very slowly.

Finally, we arrived home on Thursday, August 31, and about the first thing that I did was to go to the hospice my mother was living out her days in.

It was a beautiful hospice, featuring all the cares of home, and when I arrived at Room 211, I saw my mother lying there, seemingly in a deep sleep.

But she wasn’t really sleeping.

Here eyes were sunken into her head, her lips were parched, and while she was breathing, she really was not with us here.

Her life was gone, and only her corpse remained.

It is hard to descr4ibe it any other way.

My sister had been there through the worst of it, and since the day I came home, I went to the hospice each and every day to be with my mom.

I spoke to her like I would if she were still with us; I told her about what was happening at the house, I read her the comics, I told her about the state of the Yankees … but I also told her time and time again that it was time to go, time to visit my father in heaven …

And that she had had a wonderful life, was a great mom and grandmother, and that we all loved her so.

My mother, as petite and frail as she was, was a very strong woman, and the doctors were amazed that she lasted in this state for as long as she did.

I woke up today at about 6:30 a.m., showered, got dressed and was ready to get myself breakfast when my sister called me.

My mother had died at around the time that I got up, maybe a little earlier.

Funeral arrangements are pending, but Jewish tradition states that the funeral must be quick, and we will abide by that edict as much as we possibly can.

R.I.P. Phyllis Lapka, March 11, 1931 to September 5, 2023 … quite frankly, she was the best mother anybody could have, and my sister and I were blessed by being her children.

What the future holds is another matter, and that will be discussed at a later time.

But my mom is with my dad now, and right now, that is all that counts.