I just felt like writing a little. Maybe this blog will morph into like a journal or something. I don't think any one reads it anyway.
My Aunt Fran has been in the hospital since 03/16 after she had open heart surgery. It seems like there have been daily ups and downs. One doctor telling us she is fine, the other preparing to pull the plug. I have not been up at the hospital day in day out like others, I could not imagine the fear and pain of what Amy, John, Kay, Barb and my mom are going through. 


I tell you what, though, there are few moments in my life when it seems like things around you slow down. The laundry piling up at home, the bills that need to be paid, the kids need a bath, need to get gas in your car...all that just STOPS. You step back from your mundane life and take a deep breath. They say don't sweat the small stuff, and it's true. Sitting at the hospital with Franny on Sunday, watching Madeline pray over her, asking her to just wake up. Man, it touches you in such a way. We all held hands and said a prayer over her, in that moment she moved. It was like she was telling us she was there, God is here helping me and I WILL come back to ya'll. I don't know, it was just a profound moment. We get so worked up in our every day life, we almost forget to LIVE. Here I am worried about getting to go to HEB tonight because I want to try a new recipe and my Aunt is fighting to let us know she is still in there. The sad thing is, this feeling doesn't last. You know, life takes over again and before you know it, it's all back to normal. I guess that just makes  those moments more important.*******




*****   I wrote this a while back, obviously when Fran was alive. I forgot I even wrote it, and I guess this blog site saves drafts? It's hard to see what I'm typing right now through the tears.


 Fran lost the fight.


 I was there for her last breath. Holding my mom up while she watched her amazing sister slip away. We watched the nurses take the wires and tubes out, we bathed and dressed her. Sarah even chi'ed her hair. She was in good hands, not some stranger taking care of her after she passed. She went straight into a casket that her son painted for her. He drove her to the graveside. He spoke for her at the burial. I don't know how they did it. Amy and John. How can someone be so strong. Anyway, I won't go into all of it. It's hard. I think of her daily. I think of the loved ones she left behind. The lessons she taught me in her last month of life are still with me ever minute of every day. I love you Franny.