I reunited with my phone shortly after 9, Friday evening. I saw there were several text messages.
The first text message told me mom has passed, peacefully, minutes ago. A couple minutes later my brother called. He and my sisters were with mom when she joined dad. Jake, Nancy, Jackie and Michele had spent the day with mom.
Sister Jackie got back from Vegas, in time, whilst my two Washington sisters flew in to Phoenix today.
Which had me the only sibling not in Arizona with mom today.
I do not remember ever typing through tears before.
Shirley Louise Wilder Slotemaker
January 30, 1933 - September 20, 2019
Since I moved to Texas I have gone through various stages of calling mom and dad.
It used to be when I got gas I would call with the gas price and the temperature. Usually mom answered. If dad answered we'd talk for a minute, or so, before dad would say your mom wants to talk to you.
In the two plus years since dad has been gone if I was going to Walmart, or ALDI or the library, or driving to DFW, or somewhere else I would call mom and ask if she'd like to ride with me to Walmart, or ALDI, or wherever.
The past month or so it has seemed like something is missing because I will have the impulse to call, and then remember mom no longer answers a phone. So, I would call sister Jackie and ask if she wants to ride to Walmart or the library or wherever with me.
Mom being gone is gonna take some getting used to. I will never get to drive Miss Daisy again. I'm so glad way back in February of 2018 I talked mom into getting a transport chair. That made the trips to Arizona way more adventurous.
One such adventure came to mind this evening whilst talking about mom. Last October, hard to believe that is almost a year ago, Big Ed and I took Miss Daisy to Piestewa Peak and rolled her on a long desert mountain trail. Mom had fun that day, memorably telling us she never thought she would ever get to do anything like that again.
When I was in Arizona in March, with the temperature comfortable, I rolled mom around Sun Lakes. Mom had been obsessing about wanting to talk to Bill, the neighbor across the street. So, I saw Bill had just gotten home, his garage door was open. I rolled mom over there, rang the doorbell. No response. Saw another button at the end of the garage, by the garage's door into the house, which I assumed was a doorbell. So, I rolled mom to that button, pushed it, and the garage door came down.
Mom did not get too panicky, what with her macular degeneration she didn't realize how dark it was, and that I had trouble seeing. But, I got the garage door back open and we escaped, without seeing Bill.
Suddenly the sky is crying. First rain in a long time, with thunder rolling...
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