Saturday, July 20, 2013

Last July, I took my mother on a vacation. We went to see family in Tulsa, Oklahoma and then went to Branson. She had been asking to go for three years, but it hadn't worked out before.

I spent most of the night before we left trying to decide what to do. Sarah had numbness and balance issues and I knew something was seriously wrong. But my mother was 84 years old and had been battling myelodysplastic syndrome for twelve years. I had the feeling that for her it was then or never.

I decided to go on the trip, and was just pulling into Tulsa when she called to say my fears were founded. She had MS. I offered to fly home, but she was going to be in the hospital most of the time I was going to be gone. She said stay and make sure Grandma has the best vacation ever.

Grandma had a wonderful time. She loved the shows, the lake, and most of all, visiting with the family. She talked about the trip for months, right up until her health began its final, gradual decline.

It was a difficult choice to make, and I questioned it for a long time.

My mother died June 18, 2013, and I am so grateful that I had that last fun-filled vacation with her. Sometimes the right answer isn't apparent for a long time. Now I know.

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