Memorial Day

I've probably mentioned many times how much I have come to dislike holidays. I dislike them for so many reasons, but over the years and increasingly since my mom left her house, holidays are something that I do for other people so they're not sad. There are the big holidays: Thanksgiving (held at my house even if it's just three of us since my sister moved to Minneapolis). Christmas: held at my house in some form since 2015, which includes cooking, presents and transport of my mom hither and yon, even during Covid. And then there are the other holidays, like the paid ones that the ladies have. In general I feel great about giving the ladies a paid vacation. Until I worked at the forklift factory I *never* had a paid day off, so I understand how great it is, and if anyone deserves one it's the ladies who take care of my mom.

So this Monday was Memorial Day and I had Mom for the evening. Even though I was only her caregiver for half of the day, my sister needed some moral support earlier on, because mom was yelling loudly about all sorts of things:

• Her parents loved her little brother more than they loved her
• Her mom was never around
• She wants to go home (this is either a) our childhood home or b) my house or c) wherever more than one of her family members are assembled together)

So it's not like it was restful to split the day with my sister, but I *am* so grateful, cause I got the easier end of the day. Since then, there have been several bad days.

On Sunday my middle sister said that her personal standards for mom transitioning to memory care have been met.

On Monday I made the call.

Every other day of the week I've either been working on some aspect of transition paperwork, writing checks, communicating it all to my siblings, while also stepping in to help on occasion and taking Mom to the park. It's gonna be a wild couple of weeks.