The Day After

Today I am resolving to stop going to McDonald's. Partaking a little, I hope, or my mother's courage in doing so.

For since she died, I have been running up to McDonald's and getting what (usually) we - and Spooky, her dog - ate for breakfast. That was our "morning routine". She and I rose about 7 AM. I would pick her up from her bed or the big chair where she slept, and move her to her wheelchair. Then I would move her to the back window where she could look out at the back yard. I would check her blood pressure and pulse. Then I would prepare her meds. And set out a cup of steaming tea - Earl Grey tea, by preference, though plain Lipton's too could be her joy. Then I would fetch her a wet washcloth and a dry hand towel. She would use these to clean her hands and face and wet her hair, and then she would groom herself in a small pink mirror on the side table. And while she did this, I would run down to McDonald's.

I would get two Egg McMuffins and a large diet coke for me and a small coffee for her. We ate together. She would take off the piece of round ham: that was for the dog, her first "bitesey". I would hand it to Spooky through the door to the garage. Then Mom would take a bite or two or even three of her McMuffin and say, "I can't eat anymore. Save it or give it to Spooky." Usually I'd give it to Spooky, since she rarely ate a saved item like this later.

Well, since she's died, I still keep going to McDonald's and getting our two sandwiches and my coke and her coffee.

This morning I think I must stop. It is so hard. I must stop O Lord.

I love you Momma.

Charles Delacroix
Feast of St Augustine