That week was a blur. It felt like forever, but we thought it would never end. There was so much to do, plan, and organize. So many phone calls to make, people to talk to, information to give. Had we called everyone? Did everyone know? Who was going to sing......and which songs? We had to choose a bulletin, print it, and pick it up. We had to make the photo boards for the memory table. We had to choose pictures for the slideshow tribute. We stayed up many late nights, made lots of phone calls, drove all over town, and ran on complete adrenaline. There werre times we did not know what day it was, yet knew how many seconds were left until the big day. We wanted everything to be PERFECT. It had to be, for Mom. It was our way of coping, I guess.
Get our toe nails painted? Yeah, right, I thought! "Are you insane? You HAVE gone crazy," I told my sister. "Wait, wait, she said. Let me finish." Then she explained to me the method behind her madness. She reminded me about our last "good" day with Mom, at the Don Cesar Spa in June, when Mome got her Makeover.
There were so many colors to choose from for her nails. How would she ever pick just one? And she did. "This is it," she said. "This one." We quickly turned it over to read the clever title of the color printed on the bottom, and to our surprise it was called, "Love Your Mom." How appropriate for the day. How fitting for the occasion. That was definatly the one, so on her toes it went! Joy then reminded me that she had actually bought the bottle for Mom that day, to have to touch up her nails, to remember the day, as a momento. She then pulled it out from behind her back. There it was, the peachy pink color, that was so Mom. It looked so familiar. "I want us to go get our toes painted in this for the funeral. Just something between me and you, in honor of Mom. You know how she always had her toes done for every occasion. What do you think?" Then, it all made sense to me. Although crazy at times, she had NOT gone insane. It made perfect sense.
So, yes, we went, amidst all the things we still had to do, this became an important task on our things-to-do-list. We got our toes painted in the "Love Your Mom" color, as a very small but significant memoir to our Mom. No one else knew...they did not have to. Except, Julia, my 6 year old. As soon as I arrived home that night, she noticed my toes were painted. "Hey, that looks like Mimi's color!" she said a bit perplexed. "That's because it IS Mimi's color, I said, as tears rolled down my face.