Thank you to everyone

Posted on by Sarah A. Hoyt

Thank you for your comments, everyone.

To make things more confusing, we were away from home and had to drive back, and I was out of internet range for most of it.

We still don’t know if we’ll be traveling for the funeral. It’s a tiny country so they expect Wednesday and I don’t know if we can make it work.

I can’t see comments on Holly’s post (don’t ASK ME WHY. I’m the blog owner) on the back panel. And WP won’t let me comment from the front. But I have read all the comments, and you made me cry.

Mom was okay until 3 days ago, so it’s a bit of a shock. (Stepped wrong, broke either her hip or the head of the femur. (Family is unclear.) Got through surgery okay, but never came back fully. It’s a big ask in your 90s to put up with that kind of physical insult.)

It was surprising (Yesterday night they were still expecting her to recover) and I still don’t know how I feel. Particularly coming so close after losing Uncle Lar (not my real uncle, but very ductapped on for… 15 years?)

So I feel like I was smacked upside the head and still walking sideways, all while trying to prepare for the release of No Man’s Land.

Once more I must apologize to those who subscribe to the substack. Yes, serialization will resume, it’s been a crazy two weeks, with one thing and another. (I’ll tell you the story of the cover insanity soonish, too. Not sure I’m done with it, yet.)

I’m still not absolutely sure how I feel or how I’m coping. Sometimes I think I’m doing fine, then I find I’m crying.

Please be patient. Holly F. will keep you updated in the (looks unlikely) event I travel.

Right now I’m feeling very tired though I slept and Dan did all the driving.

Anyway, thank you all of you. I’ll post again soon(ish). Might post late tomorrow. Again, I’m SO tired. Or I might find I can’t sleep, so….

126 thoughts on “Thank you to everyone”

  2. Oh Sarah, so sorry to hear. My condolences that is terrible news. I don’t think anyone is going to hold anything late or missed against you. :(

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  3. Sorry to hear this. I know nothing I can say can make the slightest improvement, so I won’t.

    Take the time to heal, because it will bite you when you least expect it. Be as well as you can.

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  4. All y’all just love on each other and take care of each other. I’m so sorry for this. There’s no good way to lose a loved one. And every one of us wants so desperately to say something profound that will fix it, but this isn’t a fixing kind of thing.

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  7. I’m so sorry to hear this. I hope you can get to the funeral. Big hugs from Tripp and I, and prayers to you and your family, especially your Dad.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. I’m so sorry to hear this. I hope you can get to the funeral. Big hugs from Tripp and I, and prayers to you and your family, especially your Dad.

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  9. I’m so sorry to hear this. I hope you can get to the funeral. Big hugs from Tripp and I, and prayers to you and your family, especially your Dad.

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  10. There is no such thing as being prepared.

    my Mom was 96.

    in 2023 she was fading, mostly robbed of her faculties by dementia, still hale as far as we could tell. Next day gone. Take the trip. Take the time for yourself as much as for your family. Mourning takes time. It has no schedule or expiration date. Live it, and in time as the pain fades you will be left with the memories that cannot but heal.

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    1. “There is no such thing as being prepared.”

      Well… yes.

      Not even when the “Arrangements” are all ready and have been ready for several years. Not even when the Signs And Portents are all turning up black, and the doctor has stopped shaking his head and is now shrugging. Not even when the person you’re worried about does not give a single rip what happens, and will tell you so at great length every time you go see them. Not even when you voice your concerns and they tell you “Don’t Worry About It, Kid.”

      Not even, God help you, when you think you are damn good and ready, thank you very much.

      And then, surprise! You’re not ready.

      Oh well. The moment is upon you, like a bobcat stuck to your leg. It will not be coming off easily, as they say.

      On the bright side, you can’t do it wrong. You’ll do it your way. That’s how it will be done, because you’re the one doing it and that’s how it is. Other people may have their opinions, but you are still the one doing it.

      I try not to be a jackass about things while I’m getting over not having been ready. Purely for my own benefit, I hasten to add. I find it all seems to go much more smoothly when I don’t stick my oar in and insist on how things should be. Other people weren’t ready either, it can’t hurt to give them a little space.

      Because, as I have discovered to my great irritation, the world spins on regardless. The sun will be up tomorrow, and all that stuff you didn’t do today will still be waiting. So, I go do it. And eventually, maybe I’ll be ready.

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  12. I had COVID when my Mom passed. I couldn’t travel for her funeral. Some days it’s hard to believe she is gone, like I didn’t get closure. Perhaps our Mom’s still live a little bit on within us. My heart goes out to you. We all love you, take your time, and take care of yourself.

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  16. Take care of yourself and your family. Next to those, books releases, this blog, etc. are trivial. We’ll still be here when you’re ready.

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  17. Please forgive me for expressing this in “religious” terms. It’s all I know.

    Psalm 16:1 reads, “Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge.”

    And when we ask, He will (Romans 10:13).

    Liked by 3 people

  19. Sarah, I am so sorry. If there is anything I can do, please let me know. I will offer one piece of advice. Give yourself time to grieve. Everyone understands you need to process what’s happened. Hugs and prayers to you and the family.

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  23. I am so sorry to hear about your mom; God bless you and your family and make your life’s memories a special place close in your heart.

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  25. Eternal Rest grant unto her, O Lord, and perpetual light shine upon her

    and may she rest in peace.

    and may her soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

    Amen

    Liked by 3 people

  27. Sarah, I’m so sorry. Like a lot of us, both of us here have been where you’re sitting right now. My mom was in a care home deep into Alzheimer’s when my sister-in-law called and said she’d been taken to the ER for pneumonia. I was northbound at excessive speed when she called back and told me Ma was gone. Missed saying goodbye by fifty miles.

    If there’s anything Shells and I can do from here in your least favorite place in the world (outside Charlotte), let us know. Please. In the meantime we’ll keep your entire family on both sides of the pond in our prayers.

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    1. Why is it such a shock when you get the news that has to be coming? Eventually.

      I know I’ll be wondering where the 2×4 came from when I or my sister find mom. But … she’s 90 … Good health physically and mentally, but … 90 …

      Hubby was on his way home from work when we got the call on his dad that his dad was on the way to the hospital, again. Second (third overall) heart attack in 6 months. He wasn’t expected to survive the earlier one, survive the few weeks to Thanksgiving, Christmas, then to New Years, let alone past Easter. The call was “Following ambulance with dad in it to the hospital. Come Yesterday.” Despite straightening a few curves on hwy 126 between Eugene, and Bend, in late April, hubby did not make it in time (got there safe. Just too late.) I did not go with hubby. Hubby would not risk me and the almost 8 month fetus on the drive. The expected baby is why FIL hung on. The family had found out that last Thanksgiving (“It’s not catching. She’s not sick.” With not one, but two nurses, in the family no hiding.) FIL was determined to live to see that newborn. It was a shock that he failed.

      Grandparents were the same. Everyone expected a call at anytime; they were mid-90s. Shock when everything fell apart all at once. Same with MIL then dad and each had been in hospice for months.

      Sarah, I cry for you. I’d be shocked if you didn’t sleep more after getting home. Somehow sleeping in the car isn’t enough. (Joke used to be “Who’d be out first?” Me or the baby/toddler/young-child, when we went somewhere. Kid usually was, but if I wasn’t driving I’d be out. As I’ve gotten older it is less likely (IDK what changed) but this is just recent.) But with the stress? Who knows. Take care of yourself.

      Liked by 1 person

    2. My sister was coming to say goodbye right after work, and texted our mother she had left.

      Right after our father’s afib went wild, and as soon as it stopped, so did his heart.

      Our mother decided to give her the news when she arrived and not disrupt her while driving.

      My other sister and I waited for her in the lobby to catch her so she didn’t hear it from the desk when she signed in.

      Liked by 1 person

  28. I am so sorry! There are few truly good words at a time like this; but, know prayers and love go out for you and your family. Eternal rest grant her O Lord, and mercy on her soul. May your mercy and comfort be upon all those she leaves behind, and grant unto them all that they need during this time.

    No, we are never ready for (or want to get) that call. Or the other calls. Remember her, Uncle Lar, and all the others with joy and gratitude for their presence and participation in your life. It’s hard to do, but I found it does help.

    God Bless!

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  29. Sarah, I cry for you. May God bless you and your family. What, please, is her name so I can properly pray for her?

    And may her memory be a blessing to you.

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      1. As the patroness of our parish is she who appeared to the three sheepherder children at Fatima, I can think of no better place to pray.

        O my Jesus, forgive us our sins. Save us from the fires of Hell. Lead all souls to heaven, especially those in most need of Thy mercy. Amen.

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  30. Sarah, I’m sorry. It’s especially hard when it’s unexpected, and it takes a while to deal with the shock combined with the grief. All I can say, it will get better. You have a lot of people who love you and yours, both in meatspace and here online.

    That rainbow bridge party is going to be awesome some years in the future. (Why is it so dusty in here? Sniff.)

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  32. I am so very sorry for your loss.

    No matter the age, no matter if expected or out of the blue, no matter the state of the relationship, the loss of a parent is a tectonic shift in one’s sense of self. You are suddenly somehow profoundly more alone in the world, as if your very DNA has registered the loss of one of its progenitors and is crying out. Your head may have conflicted thoughts; your heart may or may not weep—but your essential self will mourn the absence of an anchor.

    Wishing you the comfort, healing, and peace.

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  35. Losing a parent, especially one’s mother, is a traumatic event. I’ve lost both parents, and other loved ones, and it never gets easier.

    If a donation for travel would help, please count me in. Family, even our wild and weirdly expanded one, needs to stick together.

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      1. Dang. Tomorrow for the funeral? That is fast. Sorry you can’t make it.

        It is at least a week or two here (two if cremated and you want the remains at the memorial). A week for viewing memorial, and internment. IDK if that is normal or not. What is not normal, for dad’s side of the family, because private cemetery interment, plots have to be picked, marked, and fully prepared (there is a logical arrangement, but no “official” survey).

        Lately most have been cremated as it less expensive and easier to develop the grave site itself. Plus the grave can be dug by family, a tradition (a tradition taken away by the state unless cremation). Family digging the grave gives time to cry, scream, beat up on something, and finally laugh (and pass the bottles); usually the males of the family (last traditional grave dug was early ’70s). Do crying/laughing all over at the memorial, interment, and later at the potluck gathering. By the time the latter are done (all on the *same day) one is thoroughly and completely wrung out emotionally.

        (*) Changing somewhat now. Dad’s memorial was on one day (including full Religious and Masonic/Shriner Rites). The internment was months later, including the potluck. His younger brother’s was graveside interment the evening before, memorial/potluck gathering the next day. Both interments were “immediate” family only.

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        1. It would have been yesterday if they could have got the body released. Or today. My family is … odd?
          I’ve sent flowers. It’s ALL I can do.
          We have a vault. I don’t intend to be buried in it, but we have a marble vault.

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          2. If I remember correctly, FIL’s funeral was within days too (it has been 36 years). He passed early in the week, then mom and dad took me over for the funeral, then they drove home that day. Not an insignificant ask. It made no sense for hubby to come back to pick me up to drive back over. He wasn’t going to let me drive over and back over the Cascades late April. Not 8 (ish) months pregnant.

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      2. Missing the funeral is … rough. One of the things the funeral and the dinner (or whatever you have) does is give the family a chance to regroup, to rebuild itself after the loss. I hope you can make the trip soon.

        Meanwhile, there are a hundred or more people here who would gladly offer a hug, if you wanted it. Take care of yourself, please.

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  36. Sarah :

    I have come to see myself as a kind of Geordie LaForge. With my visor in the repair shop. I know they are there. I just can’t see them. She has removed her temporal clothing. As have many of mine. At some point, either I will remove mine, or they will decide to make themselves visible. But I will see again. “There is no such thing as immaterial matter⁠. All spirit is matter, but it is more fine or pure, and can only be discerned by purer eyes;”
    and so will you and yours

    ed

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  37. Grief is hard, but it’s the other side of love. When you love somebody one or the other of you is probably going to have to experience grief one day. Find joy where you can.

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  40. We lost my Mom under very similar circumstances a couple of years ago. It’s the kind of loss that you never really get over, but it does get easier with time.

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  43. I’m very sorry, Sarah. Two big losses within a week? That’s huge. Take all the time you need. Praying for you and your family.

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  45. Can tell you from experience that not knowing how to feel is normal. You’ll be up and down for a while. Take care.

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  46. Take your time with recovery and grieving Sarah. Everyone here is rooting for you … and hoping you can avoid the natural tendency to “push through” it all. Go slow. No one’s going anywhere. Lots of love …

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  52. I know I’m late to this, but I’m really sorry to hear it, Sarah. You take care of yourself and don’t worry about us. We’ll be here.

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  53. There are no words that can convey our sorrow, and no words that can fill the hole. Prayers of comfort for you and your family are all that I can offer.

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  54. So sorry to hear that. There is no way you can really prepare for that news, not even when you think you might have been because their age or failing health, it is still a shock. My mother had been sick for a decade and talked about it to me, I guess trying to prepare me, but that didn’t help much when she finally died when I was 26, and my father lived to be 90 and had obviously deteriorating health the last times I saw him, but no. I guess we always think that it can’t happen now, and expect that they would have at least a few years longer.

    We all care because we care about you.

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  55. / HUGE HUGS

    (and I’m not that great of a hugger either.)

    More than 50 years since I lost my Mom, and it still hurts. My pardon to those who don’t believe, but the fools in the news who say prayer doesn’t help anything don’t have the foggiest idea what they’re talking about.

    Do what you need to do and don’t worry about us here. We’ll still be here when you’re ready to come back.

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  57. Out of the depths I call to you, LORD; Lord, hear my cry!
    May your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy.
    If you, LORD, keep account of sins, Lord, who can stand?
    But with you is forgiveness and so you are revered.

    I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and I hope for his word.
    My soul looks for the Lord more than sentinels for daybreak.
    More than sentinels for daybreak, let Israel hope in the LORD,
    For with the LORD is mercy, with him is plenteous redemption,
    And he will redeem Israel from all its sins.

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  58. Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her.

    Mothers carry the flame that pushes back the future’s darkness. I will add her to my prayer list. Persevere, and remember that you are loved more, and by more, than you know.

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  59. My sympathies.

    Re WP:

    WP has made me login for every attempt at a comment for the last week+, and most don’t make it through. It keeps telling me my password is wrong, but also won’t actually allow me to change it.

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  60. I wish you what comfort our condolences may give; my Dad died 10 years ago after breaking ribs and puncturing a lung in a fall against a chair while caring for my non-ambulatory Mom. At 91, his system wasn’t up to recovering; he and Mom had made their No Extraordinary Measures instructions very clear – after a week he passed.

    We did have time to gather my siblings and several grandchildren; but he wasn’t in another continent.

    Do as you feel best, and cherish the memories and love.

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  61. I hope you can get to the funeral, both for yourself and your family.

    As for the rest, my Mom died in 2012, and I didn’t fully cope (not healed) until 2014. So take time that you need. We’ll be here for you.

    and we promise not to do noticeable damage. At least I do. <Give side eye to others>

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  65. Hugs. It’s going to be rough sailing for a while.

    It’s hard even when it’s expected. In 2017, my mother had been in decline for four years, and the last week was pretty much a death watch, but when I got up and found the name of a funeral home in the subject line of my dad’s e-mail, it was still a punch in the gut.

    Losing Dad was more shocking. Sure, he’d had a heart scare in February, but he’d come through it. And then, almost a month ago now, I got the call with my eldest brother’s name in the Caller ID, and I knew something bad had happened. Literally between the time my brother got off work and called home to see if Dad needed anything picked up, and the time my brother got back home, he was gone. I spent that evening pretty much in a haze, keeping busy by writing to friends and family, letting them know the news.

    I’m still trying to figure out the new normal.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That’s my fear with my Dad. When Mom died we had some warning, she’d gotten cancer diagnosed in December and died by February when chemo utterly failed (it was VERY aggressive cancer) and she went into hospice. I’ve been afraid I won’t hear from him and end up driving over to his home and finding him dead from something that had been missed.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. And then second-guessing yourself, wondering if you should’ve raised the alarm because of this or that thing that seemed insignificant at the time, but in hindsight really looks like a warning. I’ve been having to fight that urge a lot of late.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. What happened to cousin with her mother. Mom & I had just seen aunt when she passed through Eugene a week or so before she was found. At home. Got up, dressed, was sitting in sunroom with a cup of her morning drink of the day (tea or coffee). Closed her eyes and she was gone.

        MIL shouldn’t have been that way. She was in a full assisted living (nursing home) situation. With MIL it was a case of shift change and another “emergency alarm”. Was it a case of calling wolf one to many times? Or was it a case of true set of emergencies, but by the time transported to emergency room (was not in hospice, just need more care than any of the adult children could provide at home) emergency was done? Regardless, by the time the staff got around to checking on MIL, she was gone.

        What almost happened with grandparents, except grandpa had a Life Alert. Now he triggered it because grandmother wasn’t responding to his demands (being passed out on kitchen floor) instead of his problems. Although by the time emergency responded they both were in distress. Both ended up, ultimately, in nursing home, grandpa in hospice. Grandma not in hospice. Grandma didn’t last past grandpa’s memorial (was back at nursing home, had a massive heart attack in the wee hours the next morning), more than a few days.

        Already stated what I fear for mom. Now if she goes like her SIL (aunt) above, it happens (won’t be happy). But if she falls she technically has a watch to tattle to all three of us daughters. “Technically” because 1) she does not wear it to bed (Apple Watch and charging nightly is required). 2) She’s fallen, off her front stoop (not “high” but still bruising fall) then stopped the alert from going out. She’s allowed to stop the alert when getting into sister’s sedan (it’s a drop) but not from the front step. We’ve talked to her about moving in with one of us. Even swapping occasionally. She refuses. Truth is really only one choice, kind of. One sister has stairs, major stairs. Us? No way will she live with all of our animals. Not happening. The third sister, no animals, no stairs, but they travel, major travel, that she can’t do anymore. She’d be alone anyway.

        Yes. The fear is realistic.

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        1. I’ve heard of a woman who died in the middle of a conversation with her husband. She said something, he said something, she was dead.

          Liked by 1 person

      3. Yes. All the other deaths in the last year and a half have been clearly coming, but my mother’s brother died during what was supposed to be a routine operation. It was a great shock.

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  66. Again, my prayers and condolences. My G-grandmother had the same thing happen when she was in her late 80s; she lasted for almost 12 years, bedridden the entire time. I don’t know which you’d consider worse, 2-3 days or 12 years bedridden, but I know which I’d prefer if I were the victim. But it’s always a shock to the rest of us.😢

    BTW, “fell and broke her hip” is now generally thought to actually be “broke her hip and fell”; old bones tend to fail all on their own, and IIRC women are more susceptible to osteoporosis issues.

    If you can’t get to the funeral (here’s hoping you can), please take the time to rest, grieve and recover; we’ll still be here.

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      1. Take time off to “be there in spirit”. FWIW, it does help; I couldn’t get to my grandfather’s funeral, and spent a couple of hours remembering all our good times together.

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  68. Dear Sarah,

    Please accept my deepest condolences on the loss of your mom. I’m sending you a hug and I hope you are able to find support and comfort among your loved ones. May her memory be a blessing to you and your family, and I hope you can feel her presence with you.

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  69. I wish I had something worthwhile to say.

    As it is, take care of yourself. If you need any help, ask. (And some third thing I can’t seem to remember after WP deleted the post and I had to start over. So hopefully it was something banal and platitudinous that we’re all better off without.)

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  72. Condolences on your loss, Sarah.

    WP(DE) really does not want me to say more, as this is something like the fifth time through typing this, so I will leave it at that. Keep doing the things.

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  73. My maternal grandmother passed under similar circumstances, after several years with dementia. Dad’s passing was a far greater surprise. Y’all are in my prayers.

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  79. Hey, Sarah. Holding up okay, I see.

    I’ll try to think up a guest post, and send it along. Something to give you a break from the blog if you need one. Maybe a snippet of something completely unserious.

    Sleep is good, by the way. Take all the sleep you want.

    Liked by 1 person

  81. My deepest condolences to you and your family in this most trying of times, and enthusiastic and heartfelt echoes of all the wishes for strength and comfort and perseverance.

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      2. During the time of my grandfather was passing, my goodness twenty years ago now, I was able to record and send some of their favorite music. It was of great comfort to my grandmother.

        https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QwTatBBi2-Y

        I later found out they had played this at their wedding, all those long years ago.

        Schubert’s “Traumerei,” arranged for 4 cellos, just a bit over 3 minutes.

        (in gentle hopes it may help)

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  87. You do what you need to do. Losing a loved one is always hard, especially a parent.

    Sometimes they can seem like a force of nature, and their loss is like the wind is no more, or the rain will never come again. Some essential part of the world is suddenly gone.

    You will cope, with hope of seeing them again when we have all shuffled off this mortal coil.

    But until then, something indefinable will be missing with their absence. Trust me, I know.

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  88. Prayers out for you and your family, losing a parent is hard to get through. My dads been gone for 16 years and it still hurts. Lost mom a couple years ago, that struck extra hard as she had been doing fairly well for her age. Take your time, lots of people here who care about you

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    1. My mom was doing very well. It all started with a stupid accident BECAUSE she as doing well, and so wasn’t as careful as someone her age would normally be.
      It’s very hard. Tomorrow is going to be very hard. She called on Saturdays and I talked to her while I cleaned the house. It’s going to hurt very badly.

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    2. Yes still miss dad. It has been 16 years since we lost him. What scares me about mom. She’s in good health for 90 10/12th’s. No heart problems. Medication for usual stuff (cholesterol, BP) for her age. Has had non-melanoma skin cancer removed. Mostly spots here and there on face and scalp, but puppy did scratch and find on one larger shin patch eight years ago. She’s fallen a few times. Manages to do so when with someone, so far not alone at home. But then her parents were good until they weren’t, early 90s. Then it was down hill fast. Dad’s mom just didn’t wake up one morning weeks before her 80th birthday, no prior warning signs (that she shared).

      Sigh.

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