Bittersweet Birthdays

Today is my mom's birthday. It worked out well that it's also Friday, which is our usual day to head over and eat lunch with them. But on arrival, it was clear mom was not doing well today (you may or may not recall that she has ovarian cancer. There's naught to be done at this point.) She seemed to get a little better (less pale, less short of breath, less generally exhausted) after lunch and some fun with the boys, but that was short-lived.

Before we left, she insisted I take the rings my dad gave her for the 25th anniversary of their engagement and for the 50th anniversary of same. They've always been coming to me, so it's not that so much as how it feels to take them home when she could still wear them. Except she doesn't. Because she never leaves the house anymore (she doesn't have the strength). She never really even gets dressed beyond a robe over her pajamas.

She's asked me a couple of times since the start of the year to take them, citing concerns of them sitting in the jewelry box with hospice nurses and cleaning people in and out. I've demurred. Today she was having none of it. So home they came.

I'm not sure why it feels so final to have them. But it does.