On the train
I packed several days' extra clothes, just in case I need to stay longer. Should that happen, Amy will make her way back home alone and I'll proceed to wing it, as I have been much of this month, and as I had hoped I was done with last weekend. I don't know at this time of any sure reason I'll need to do this, but I know very little right now.
It's nearly 5 PM as I sit on the train (which hello just started moving) and I still haven't heard from the hospital since our conversation this morning. And as such I have no logistics to figure out about whether or how we're going to get mom to the funeral, and nothing to pass along to Ricky. I wish I wasn't dependent upon him for this, except that I must pick up dad's urn from the funeral home just as it opens, only 60 minutes before the service starts, and then proceed directly to the cemetery. Peter trashed the car I dollar-sold him a while ago. Ricky's her only ride.
Let me tell you, every new professional meeting mom for the first time is very impressed with how deeply, deeply fucked this all is, especially since their first reaction is to invariably be charmed at this sweet old lady who loves to talk and make friends, even when the sun's down and she's off her rocker. I console myself with the fact that in less than 18 hours dad will be in the ground no matter what and so one variable will have played itself out.
Resolution: Mom's health is more important than her attendance at a ceremony. Furthermore, our hope that attending the funeral would ground her in reality is based on out-of-date information; I have reason to believe that her dementia may have causes wider and more serious than grief for her husband. Therefore, unless I am told otherwise by the medical professionals caring for her, I'm going to assume that she won't be able to attend tomorrow morning.