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I am a below knee amputee. More importantly, I am also Mommy to two boys, a very active 10 year old (Robby) and an mischievous toddler (Timmy). I have learned that being a parent with a disability can create some unusual and sometimes humorous situations. This blogger is available for hire! Let's talk and learn how a blog can expand your business.

Friday, March 27, 2015

Picking my Battles

This morning Scott and I are flying to Austin in preparation for my Dad's Memorial Service.  The boys are spending a few days with my Mom, who definitely deserves a day at the spa to thank her for all of the help she's been providing. The service in Texas is the first of two, with the second being a smaller funeral and internment in Pennsylvania next week.  My Mom has really stepped up and selflessly picked up the slack when I needed to be away. If it wasn't for her help, I know that I wouldn't have been able to be with my Dad when he needed me the most.

A few weeks ago, during the first visit to see my Dad after his diagnosis, he asked me to give his eulogy on behalf of the family. Of course I agreed, hoping beyond hope that he would be granted a miracle and my speaking would not be necessary. I've thought about the eulogy periodically since the request, more so in the past few days, but each time I try to organize my thoughts I become overwhelmed and cry. I know that he asked me to speak because he believes that I can do it; right now I'm worried that his confidence in me was misplaced. 

I'm hoping to find the right words between now and the service tomorrow. I know it won't be perfect, but I don't want to appear foolish. Hopefully inspiration will hit in the next few hours. 

True to my pattern during the past few weeks, I'm currently pushing the eulogy out of my mind because I have more pressing matters that need attention. I need to make sure that the funeral home is abiding by my Dad's extremely detailed instructions. I know that he meant well by planning so thoroughly, but I discovering that his explicit instructions are become a source of anxiety. The Funeral Home has already made blunders, things that normally wouldn't matter. However,  I find myself becoming upset because I know my Dad wanted something different.  I also know that my Dad wouldn't want me to become this upset over small details, so I am trying to relax.  I think the next few days I will have to pick and choose my battles or I will leave Texas completely drained.

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