Quiet Acceptance

It has been one of those weeks when Tuesday runs into Wednesday, Wednesday is then Thursday night and while you swear it is Friday, it is actually Saturday and you are exhausted. Words jumbled, can't think straight, fall down on your ass tired.

We received one of those calls on Wednesday night that people dread. Tim's Mom was rushed to the hospital and it wasn't looking good. Not a lot was known, tests had to be run, but still, it wasn't looking good. We went to the hospital Thursday after my parents came to get the kids and we went.. in droves. All of the family went to be by her side. Tests and more tests, nurses and doctors with half explanations, but more-over the fear of not-knowing and the unfailing hope that she would pull through and all would be okay. In the end, it wasn't okay. She passed away last night at the hospital.

Rosalie was a quiet woman. A very caring, gentle, wonderful woman. She accepted me faithfully as the much younger woman that was going to make her son happy. While she could have made comments, made things incredibly difficult, she quietly accepted the fact that Tim and I were together, very much in love, and oddly very well suited for each other. She loved our children whole-heartedly and while she couldn't always get down to play with them, she always commented on Emma's beautiful dresses or her wacky outfits and knew just what to say so Emma would flash her the biggest smile. Then Evan, aka Dennis the Menace, came along and I think he reminded her of what her son used to be: the little blond boy with big blue eyes and spirited nature. She loved to watch them both and would often come every Sunday after church to our cabin so she could be an active part of their life.

When the time came, we all knew the right thing to do, her children and husband knew what she wanted. It was with quiet acceptance, a thing she taught those that loved her, that all support was to be removed and she was surrounded by everyone that loved her. As apprehensive as I was to be in her room, it was a beautiful and wonderful thing. We shared memories, laughed at stories and celebrated her. It really couldn't have been any better.

So, here is to Rosalie Jean Heuer Mueller. A woman that lived a long life and gave me the best gift of all, her son.

She will be greatly missed but very fondly remembered.