The rituals of mourning, yet again

We stood in the parking lot of the funeral home, four sisters.  Four daughters.  The last time we’d been in this lot was when we buried our father. And here we were again, arranging another funeral.

My mother passed away in the early morning hours Sunday.  She was 89 and in poor health, so it’s not exactly a surprise, but …  well, we almost lost her when she broke her hip last year, then she bounced back.  So why shouldn’t she bounce back from what seemed like a relatively minor illness, when the doctor sent her home with a prescription for antibiotics?  But at 89, nothing is truly a minor illness, is it?   She wound up in the emergency room Saturday night.  

The funeral will be Wednesday afternoon,  graveside service, beside my father.

Miss you, mom and dad.