Originally written July 29, 2026
Today’s update.
I showered. I took my meds. I ate some food.
Then I went to St. Pascal to plan my mom’s funeral Mass. As I stepped out of my car and started making my way toward the rectory, I noticed a cardinal perched on a branch nearby.
That was my mom.
I’m fairly certain of it.
Maybe she was letting me know she was there. Maybe she knew exactly how hard it was for me to walk into that building and plan her funeral. Whatever the reason, I needed to see that cardinal today.
After that, I made my way to the funeral home to drop off the pretty blue dress I bought for Mom. I met with the funeral director, a lovely lady with kind eyes. She helped me with my dad’s funeral too, and there was something strangely comforting about seeing a familiar face during something I never wanted to have to do again.
Now I’m home. I’m doing a little cleaning, but I don’t know if I’ll accomplish much else today.
And that’s okay.
Grief takes a lot out of you. Even when it looks like you’re getting things done, there’s an exhaustion underneath all of it that’s difficult to explain.
Today, I planned my mom’s funeral Mass. I brought her dress to the funeral home. I came home and cleaned a little.
That’s more than enough for one day.
And somewhere in the middle of all of it, a little red cardinal sat on a branch and made me feel like my mom was still looking out for me.