This one is deeply personal, never take time for granted!
Three years ago she was lying on the bathroom floor,
Not knowing how her head hit the cabinet door.
After many months of therapy and appointments,
She is making healthy choices and taking more steps.
To give her encouragement and determination,
I promised to take her to a dream destination.
Now here we are, just the two of us,
Wind in our hair and the Golden Gate right above us,
Setting sail for eleven days of Alaskan fun,
Celebrating her eighty trips around the sun.
A quick stop in the casino,
Lights a sparkle in her eyes,
Giddy with excitement,
Her magic touch claims the prize.
But the real jackpot we’ve come to find,
Is laughter, love, and peace of mind.
Sightseeing, smiling, hearts so light,
Making memories day and night.
How lucky am I to have a mother like mine,
For I have learned the best gifts are the gifts of time.
How lucky you both are to have each other! My mom died when I was 5, and I was angry for a very long time. Then I learned how to pay attention to the little clues that she has been sending me, and the pain flew away. She even "snaps" my big toe, and I wake up smiling.
Little did I know this would be our last trip together, our last laugh, our last picture. My Mom passed away exactly 2 months to the date we exited the ship of her dream trip.
You are very lucky to have her and enjoy doing things with her. Indeed lucky that she recovered from that nasty fall.
My mother and her mother loved to travel with me. Mom loved to go to casinos, too. But only dad reported winning jackpots.
But you also reminded me of the night, at 95, unable to hear and unable to get anyone to help her even though she could no longer walk without a walker, made it to the bathroom, but fell. She died the next day. And I was 2000 miles away and hadn't seen her for nine years as she declined and my sister cared for her.
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My mother and her mother loved to travel with me. Mom loved to go to casinos, too. But only dad reported winning jackpots.
But you also reminded me of the night, at 95, unable to hear and unable to get anyone to help her even though she could no longer walk without a walker, made it to the bathroom, but fell. She died the next day. And I was 2000 miles away and hadn't seen her for nine years as she declined and my sister cared for her.
Ron