April 4, 1939 — January 10, 2020

She passed last Friday. The wonderful thing was that so many family members were already on their way to see her one last time or prepared to come at a moment’s notice from all over. We asked the funeral home if they could manage to bury her on Monday so that those who had traveled and had to return could stay for her funeral. They did it.

Likely it was easy because mom, unlike my dad, didn’t want a viewing or any sort of formal farewell in a church or at the funeral home. She preferred the idea of the family meeting at her gravesite and saying our goodbyes there. I don’t think it took twenty minutes—not that anything was rushed. We spent longer greeting each other and giving hugs.

All her children were there. Most of her grandchildren, too, as well as many of the great-grands. We placed roses on her casket.

And yes, there were tears, but there was also laughter. Because you can’t remember a character like my mom without smiles. She was flawed—sometimes petty and had a long memory for a grudge—but she was also generous, clever, and very loving. Everyone had their favorite funny memory—her hanging up a mean rooster on the side of the barn with a fishnet or using that same fishnet to kill a snake, the unique, sort of grating quality of her voice when she shouted for the kids to come to dinner or for dad to take his insulin shot. Mine was the way she occasionally cursed under her breath but managed a “sugar” or “fudge” when little ones were around.

After the ceremony, everyone headed back to the house for a meal, which was provided by my sister’s Brotherhood Protectors author group. By Monday night, some were on the road again. By Tuesday afternoon, only those who will continue to live here were left. With so many possessions gone, and without my mother’s presence, the house sounds hollow. But my pragmatic daughter is already at work, sorting through photos to be shared, clearing out decades of “stuff” my mother held onto that she really didn’t need. It keeps her busy. Helps her prepare for the move from the house across the street to this house. Soon, it will be a vibrant, noisy home again.

It’s taken me a little time to process. I spent the remainder of January 10th, after 1:30 PM, walking in a fog, making calls, meeting with hospice. The 11th, family descended. All my brothers, my sister, my son, nephew, nieces, daughter and her family. All inside one house. Most staying here overnight.

It was a strange day because my sis and I knew that while we had everyone here, we had to go through mom’s things to see what everyone wanted. Of course, her artwork flew of the walls. Everyone wanted a memory. I was left with a watercolor of a sunflower she’d done for me. We sorted through her clothing, bagging up what wasn’t wanted to give away. We parceled out her jewelry—so may mementos from my father’s deployments during the Vietnam War, later gifts, usually with diamonds when they had more money, because my mom loved bling. Treasures we’ll wear while we think of her.

The day she passed, my daughter was vacuuming the house after checking her to see if she was comfortable. Mom was beyond speech by that time, only half here. She no longer responded to our voices. I brought in a bright yellow washcloth to wash her face and began to do so, when I finally noticed she no longer breathed.

My sister, who had driven down from northern Arkansas walked into the house a minute later.

Two elderly men from the local funeral home came to collect her some time later. My son-in-law and I helped move her from the bed to the gurney. It seemed fitting that I should help lift her one last time. My SIL helped wheel her out to the hearse. One last gesture of respect.

Over the last couple of years, we’ve lost so much—my beautiful grandmother, my strong & kind father, my lovely mother. I stayed to care for them. My daughter followed me to care for me and them. I’m surrounded by loving family, and I know that was by my mother’s design. I can shed tears, not many, because that’s just not me, but once we lay her to rest, the work begins, because my daughter and her family will fill this quiet house, moving in to this sturdy home my father built.

In mama’s last days, she talked to my dad a lot. Long conversations that I only understood in snippets. He was waiting for her.

Let’s frame this, just so you see where I’m at in this “process”.

In 2018, after many months, off and on, of personal care by myself and my daughter, my grandmother passed away.

In 2019, after months of in-home care, my father passed away.

Now, my mother’s life is leaving her body. She’s at home where she wanted to be. We’re caring for her with the help of hospice staff that provides baths, checkups, and the supplies and meds we need.

I’m not a depressed person. I don’t cry. I do. But when there’s something I can’t fix, I get quiet. I look for outlets to provide me peace.

While she was in the hospital over the holidays, before they released her to come home to die, I cut and folded pieces of watercolor paper and banded them together with a rubber band. Then I sat down over several days and applied blotches of paint to the paper. When she came home, I began doodling in the times between I had to rise and give her food or water or meds. She was very demanding—not that I minded, because she and I knew what was coming. When she griped too much, I soothed or prodded her into laughter.

Now, she’s not eating. She’s barely drinking. I give her meds for her anxiety and the pain as her organs slowly give up.

And when it’s quiet, I sit and doodle.

I do this for her, because, guess what? She was a true artist. Her paintings and sketches are all over the house. I can barely draw, but putting color and scratches on a piece of paper is soothing for me. And I know she would have loved what I’m producing.

Here’s the cover…

And some of the pages. I’m not finished, yet. I hope there’s still some time…

I don’t mean for this post to be a downer. I’m generally a happy person. I laugh a lot. Still do. Even standing in my mother’s room with family, listening to her labored breathing, we find funny stories to tell about her. It’s at night, after I’ve checked on her, given her comfort, that I walk across the hall to her office and begin doodling, because I’m not ready for sleep.

Good Lord, it’s 2020!

Happy New Years, everyone! I hope you had a party, friends and family, drank some bubbly! It’s nice to celebrate the passage of time. I’d love to hear how you welcomed in the new year!

I didn’t do any celebrating last night. My mother was released into our care from the hospital yesterday. We’ll have extra support from hospice, but it’s up to us to care for her, 24/7. So, last night I slept with the baby monitor next to me, with her in the next room, so I could hop up whenever she needed help.

We’re glad to have her back home. It’ll be work, but she’ll be happier in her own place, with her family around her.

Her care, her future and ours, is a bit up in the air, but I still made plans for what I want to accomplish writing-wise. This is a snapshot of my workplan for the first quarter of 2020.

Does it look like gobbledygook to you? Okay, it looks crazy busy, and it is ambitious, but I have to try to get there. While mom sleeps, I’ll write. Kind of like now.

I am blessed with family that pitches in. My brother and his wife have been RVing around the country, but they’re presently parked in our pasture, ready to pitch in with whatever we need done, for as long as we need them here. Last week, my sister flew down to keep mom company when they moved her to a larger hospital in the city. That was a huge help.

My dd lives right across the road with her big family, and yesterday, her husband tore down her bed and put it in storage before hospice workers arrived with a hospital bed and lift. Her room is set up like a hospital room now, and we’ve got all the supplies in—gloves, masks, menthol inhalers (my dd has a sensitive nose), bed pads, etc. We’ve done this before—for my grandma and my dad. We’re set. We know how to do this.

I moved into my mother’s office with the bare necessities of what I need: my laptop, planner, a watercolor notebook, and a portable set of watercolors. The baby monitor is next to my laptop monitor, so whenever she’s awake, I’m in there with her, checking on her comfort.

Probably more details than you guys want. All writers live these exciting lives, right? Gorgeous cabana boys at poolside… Well, we’re people, too, and sometimes life isn’t easy.

But I have plans. Stories to tell. I’ll find the time to write them! ~DD

2019 was not a good year for me.

After a long illness, my father passed away in March. His care, up to the time of his death, placed a pall over everyone. We knew what was coming. We took care of his needs—getting him to dialysis, cleaning the ulcers on his feet, the day to day of helping a mostly wheelchair-bound man get around… We didn’t mind any of that. We just wanted him comfortable and happy. After his death, personally, I felt drained of energy and creativity. Mourning is a malady, just like flu, and it also makes you susceptible to every bug going around. So, I barely wrote.

That’s why this list of releases for 2019 is so short. I’ve always been a prolific writer, but I couldn’t make myself sit at my computer and do the work. If you missed any of these releases—some new works and some re-worked previous releases—the links are embedded here:

1. 01/22/19 – ANIMAL, Montana Bounty Hunters series
2. 03/11/19 – ALONG CAME A SPIDER, Men in Uniform Anthology
3. 04/30/19 – STRANDED, A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology
4. 05/14/19 – GILDED CAGE, Femme Surnaturel series, reissue
5. 07/14/19 – NEW ORLEANS NIGHTS, SEALs in Paradise series
6. 07/30/19 – QUINCY DOWN UNDER, short story, reissue
7. 08/12/19 – BIG SKY WEDDING, Montana Bounty Hunters series/Brotherhood Protectors crossover
8. 08/30/19 – MAMBO’S DOOR, Femme Surnaturel series, reissue
9. 09/24/19 – QUINCY, Montana Bounty Hunters series
10. 11/05/19 – HARVEST MOON, Beaux Reve Coven series

My favorites projects to work on from the list were…

 

We lost my grandmother, who also lived with us, in 2018, after months and months of in-home 24/7 care. We lost dad in 2019. At the end of this year, my mother’s health has taken a hit. She’s spending the New Year holiday in the hospital, while we wait for the doctor’s to tell us what her future will be.

I’ll be glad to see the end of this year. I’m not very hopeful on the home front for 2020, but I do have a plan to do better on the writing front… More about that tomorrow.

I’d love to hear how you deal with sadness. Any advice would be appreciated.

Santa came early this morning to the Devlin house! Since one of the children would have missed opening pressies with her siblings, we made special arrangements with Santa for him to arrive early Christmas Eve morning! And it’s a good thing, too. Later in the morning there was a family emergency, and it looks like Christmas Day will be spent shuttling back and forth to the hospital. Nothing horribly serious, so far, but disappointing just the same.

I was up at 5 AM to be at my daughter’s so I didn’t miss the kids sneaking into the living room for a peek, and wouldn’t you know they all slept until 7!! Gah. It’s mid-afternoon now, and I’m ready for a nap! But the kids were over the moon with their presents, and there were plenty of hugs all around. (Well, worth losing a couple of hours of sleep.)

Anyways, I had something wonderful planned for today’s post (not really, I always wing my posts), but I’m too tired to think of what might be fun or wonderful, so I’ll just end with my wish that you all have a very, Merry Christmas!

I’d love to hear how your preparations are going!

I closed out a bunch of contests, so be sure to check below to see if you are winners! There are still two things going on that you can take part in…

1. An early holiday gift from me to you… (FREE Read) — It’s a FREE read folks! And you’ll like the story, swear! It’s funny and very sexy!
2. ‘Tis the season to be challenged… (Puzzle & Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!

I’m also trying to clear my desk so I have room to work on my 2020 Mind Map. Don’t know what that is? Here’s an example of one—obviously (almost laughably) not mine.

After I finish the map, I’ll work on planning what I want to write in the new year, and begin driving down into each month’s goals so I can commit to a plan of action. I’m scaling back my goals. My mom will need more support this year. My mind isn’t the steel trap it used to be… I want to write some things I’ll enjoy writing, rather than slogging through stories. I guess my theme for 2020 will be something along the line of “Finding My Joy”.

I want to do a little traveling. Nearby things I’ve neglected to see or do. Arkansas actually has quite a lot to do, depending on the season. Plus, I want to get back to attending the local art guild meetings and take some lessons. Fill my creative well with something other than artful words.

Anyway, I’m rambling. If you try a mind map, I’d love to see what you come up with!