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It came in the mail the middle of last week along with the other bills, bank promotions, and junk mail. A white envelope from the nursing home where my mother died. My first thought was, “Crap, I’ll bet this is another bill that they are finally getting around to sending me.” But it wasn’t. It was an invitation, “In memory of your loved one.”

Oh.

I’ve been to memorial services like this before. They’re beautiful. Sometimes very moving and inspirational music is performed or played. Sometimes special readings. Sometimes a candle is lit for every one being remembered. Sometimes they give a flower to the survivors. Then there are cookies and punch.

I haven’t been back there since the day I helped the funeral home person lift my mother’s body on to a gurney to take to the funeral home. I actually even try to avoid driving by it if I can. In a way it might be nice to stop in and see some of the people that cared for mom during her last weeks of life.  But it will be painful too.

As luck would have it, that same evening Sam and Gabe are supposed to go up to the cathedral and sing in a choir contest.  I guess it is quite a big deal and very prestigious for their choir if they win.  It would also be an exciting thing for the other children to experience, and of course seeing the big city at night is always a treat for the family.

I can get rides for the boys to go with other members of the choir, but at the same time I want to be there to hear them and celebrate their performance.

… and yet part of me wants to be somewhere to memorialize mom, and to talk to people who came to know her in her last few weeks and to have a safe haven to talk to them about how it has been without her. 

I hate it when I have to make choices like this.

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