So, I returned to Lakeland, FL exactly a week after I had returned. It was basically the same flight I took the first time. My mom had become unresponsive and was transferred to palliative care - which means ceasing all treatment and focusing on comfort. This means imminent death. When I saw her, she didn't have that same recognition in her eyes. It was weird, because the nurses didn't check in as often, she was not hooked up to any kind of IV or machine, they only turned her every 6 hours as opposed to two, because at this stage in life, bedsores were not an issue. She was dying.
So, the next day, Martha went with my sisters and my dad and I to the church and to the funeral home to plan my mom's funeral. No one was sitting with my mom, although I knew friends would be visiting her. I wanted to be with her, but this was part of the obligation.
Martha thought it would be nice to go have a sit down lunch before going to the next funeral home. I didn't want to eat. I didn't want my mom to be alone. But this was the decision that had been made. We went to this New Orleans style restaurant in Bum Park - Munn Park. I think it's called Harry's I had been there once for drinks. I already knew I didn't like the place, and that was the last kind of restaurant I wanted to go to. But that's where we went.
The Food Pimp got the gumbo. Always and forever, the rest of our lives, unless by chance we somehow were to move back to New Orleans, TFP will pretty much order gumbo any chance he gets in any restaurant.
So, it was okay. It had too much thyme or oregano in it, that kind of ruined it. Otherwise, it wouldn't have been good.
So then we got the crawfish etouffee - also too much dried thyme or oregano.
And we got the jambalaya... ditto for the too much dried herb.
My sis and her hubby got these sauce fish and chicken dishes, which actually looked pretty good. So, we were waiting there to pay. That took forever to get our bill, then my dad decided to pay, so that took forever. Then we were going to go to the other funeral home. But then Martha got the call - my mom's breathing had become erratic. So, we rushed to the hospital, but we got there just a few minutes too late. That was it. She was gone. My mom. It was so weird. Not really any moment of peace. We were there a few minutes, the hospice lady was there looking on, asking about which funeral home to send her to. Then the father from her church showed up. Then we had to start telling people and make arrangements.
Later on, we went to the house to get it ready to stay in - our cousins had arrived and were going to stay in the house with my dad, and the FP and I decided to stay there so that my sis and bro in law could have the other bed at the hotel. It was weird and creepy to stay there - in the house my parents were building that my mom never got to stay one night in - but it seemed fitting in a way. I imagine that she would have wanted us all to stay in the house.