Saturday January 4 2020


Waking up at 10:45 a.m.


Granola Cereal with Strawberries and Almond Milk.


Going directly to the hospice to visit mom. She’s actually been sleeping heavily all morning and afternoon. Dad’s here. All kinds of people showed up earlier including John and Cindy (old friends of my dad and mom’s) and Jimmy Napier (my mom’s first husband). She’s leaned over snoring sweetly every time she takes a breath.


I have to head over to The Sandler Center to set up for the big show tonight. DEJA and friends perform Pink Floyd’s The Wall, where we show the movie on a big projection screen and play the soundtrack live. This time we’ve got local all-star musicians guest starring on the stage to do solos and such. My head isn’t in a good space but I have to push through.


After sound check I head right back over to the hospice. Karen Iverson is here with a few other friends. Dad of course is still here. Now mom is awake and some of her funny personality is back. But it’s apparent the decline I’ve noticed day to day since she’s been here – her eyes glassy – slow formulated words and phrases. Somehow her true self still shines through cause really she gets energized from people. I stay for a little while but then I have to go. Hugging her at the bedside – and of course every time I start crying.

“That’s her baby boy,” someone says.


Back at the theater I get dressed in my black concert attire – wearing the black western shirt with the roses. Chowing down on some Vegetable Fried Rice I got from near the hospice. I gotta get my head right and focused for the show. The theater is a packed house. As we’re performing there are some great musical and emotional moments, some of the mother related themes feel relevant to me. It turns out to be a successful night. Ana and Amelia were in the audience along with other friends.



Ana and I ride back over to hospice again. Karen Iverson is here. They leave the room at some point so mom and I can have a moment.

“You made a beautiful life for me,” I tell her. “So many great memories.”


“We’re gonna get a house soon. And I’m gonna plant a tree for you,” I say.

“Wow,” she hoarsely says, a word she’s known to use frequently.

“So I can show your grandchildren what a beautiful person you were.”

We start weeping together.


“I gotta get up,” she starts exclaiming in her whispering voice. “I gotta get up to heaven.”

“I know,” I tell her.

Later on, she requests Wanda to join us. We had to call her and get her out of bed. It was really important for her cause she keeps saying, “I don’t know how much longer I have.

So we’re all here now. Basically, we give her permission to leave whenever she’s ready and that everything has been taken care of. It’s a sad but wonderful moment of peace. Karen Iverson prays with Ana. Mom always cared about Ana and her healing. And I know to see that in front of her eyes really warmed her heart.

“You can feel the love can’t you?” I ask.



Karen Iverson asks mom what she would like to tell us to be more ready for times like this.

“Be ready,” she says. “And love people.”

We finally get her to lie back when she sleeps so her neck doesn’t ache. I hug her another time – it could be the last but it might not. We’ll know tomorrow.


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