Chapter 1: We Begin at the End

—

by

AMF-Admin

Chapter 1: We Begin at the End

Blog Home

August 28, 2025: 6:00am

Mom is dead. I am saying the words in my head repeatedly to try and have this reality sink in. It’s not working.

I’m not sure I fully understand what’s happening. I feel like I’m on auto-pilot – I need to move into project management mode immediately. There is a lot of work to be done.

It’s a pretty silent car trip. But what is there to say? Dad is driving us back to my house from the hospital. Where we just kissed mom goodbye for the final time. Where a priest came to do final prayers after she was pronounced dead. From what, we still don’t know. Yes, she was suffering from a form of dementia called major neurocognitive disorder, but she was the picture of perfect physical health. I mean, she did a full Haatha yoga routine at my house two days ago to stretch out her legs. And now she’s gone? Just like that?

Is this what being in shock feels like?

I am making a mental list of all of the things that need to be done:

    • Take care of dad

    • Tell our family and friends

    • Take care of dad

    • Arrange for cremation

    • Take care of dad

    • Pick a date for the funeral in alignment with my sister’s ability to travel back to Edmonton

    • Take care of dad

    • Prepare an obituary

    • Take care of dad

    • Figure out where mom’s eventual remains will be buried

    • Take care of dad

    • Get a death certificate and figure out what we need to do with it

    • Prepare for the barrage of emails, calls, texts, and other messages that are sure to come.

    • Take care of dad!!

    • Probably a bunch of other things that I am not even thinking about. I’ll have to do a pretty morbid google search when we get home.

I am acutely aware of the fact that “tell the kids” needs to be pretty damn near the top of the list. But I’m not sure I’m up to that yet. Thank God, they’re still sleeping – it’s the last few days of summer vacation. Amazingly, they never woke up with the phone call that came at 3:45am…or the scrambling their dad and I did to get out of the house and over to mom and dad’s place immediately thereafter. Do we wake them up to tell them or let them sleep? How am I going to explain to two 12 year-olds that the same Nana they just saw 12 hours ago for updated family photos is now…gone. Forever.

It’s funny, now that I am solely responsible for soliciting new clients for my business, I have been tossing around the idea of taking the exam to get my Project Management Professional designation. I should keep track of everything that I get done this week. I have a feeling I am going to project manage the bleep out of it.

I wish the car ride was a bit longer. How am I going to tell the kids?

Today is going to be an absolute train wreck.

Questions or comments? Contact me!