Going Home

My mother died this morning at 7:45, surrounded by family, in the warm and loving environment of the Hospice of Cincinnati.

Even though my mother was 98 years old, even though her health has been declining over the past year, even though she was barely aware of her surroundings when I arrived in Cincinnati ten days ago, I was not really expecting this. My mother has had a rich, long life, and we just thought it would go on forever.

There is much I could write about my mother. She has been so supportive of me in so many ways, including my cello playing, even though (or perhaps because) she never really heard me play. The hospice had CDs by the Adagio Trio (harp, flute, and cello), which we played for her almost constantly, the five days she spent there. It was especially meaningful for me, to have that lovely and serene music fill the room.

I am driving home tomorrow, in part because I am not up for another airplane trip, in part because I am bringing home several of my mother's paintings (by her niece), and in part to have a little decompression time before returning to the "real world."

Thanks to all those who have been so supportive and comforting.