There’s no new news from Richmond; the last time I spoke to my brother, he said that Mom was breathing about 4 times a minute, and the hospice nurse said it should be “soon”.

I’m glad my brother’s keeping me in the loop, even if I jump every time the phone rings. It was especially unnerving when I picked up the phone after working out this morning — the display said “1 new voicemail”, and I couldn’t bring myself to play it until I got home from the JCC. As it happened, the call was from the Rabbi, letting me know she’d be available this morning if I wanted to stop by the shul, but….

She lent me a couple of books: Anita Diamant’s Saying Kaddish and Anne Brener’s Mourning and Mitzvah. I haven’t looked at them yet, but I expect I’ll be doing so on the plane back to Richmond, whenever that is.

In the meantime, I came into the office this afternoon; we were having a departmental Tech Talk that I wanted to hear, and I decided I could wait here as easily as at home. But I think I’ll leave early. There’s a huge pile of mail at home (I’ve been travelling since the beginning of April), and I’m not really doing a lot for IBM at the moment.

As soon as we entered the terminal in San Jose, my phone rang. It was my brother, who was at the hospital listening to Mom breathe very, very slowly and infrequently, and warning me that I’m probably going to be returning to Richmond even sooner than I’d thought.

We decided that there was no sense in my rushing back to Richmond (all of my stuff was actually in a separate suitcase, so I guess I could have just bought a ticket on the spot and gotten right back onto the same plane I’d just flown in on) — I might or might not arrive in time, and I’ll be more useful if I’ve gotten at least one night’s sleep.

So I’m waiting for the phone call before I make my next set of travel arrangements.

Maybe Mom decided it was time when we said “goodbye” this morning, or maybe this was the time no matter what. Only God knows — but I still feel that we made the right decision to come home today.

We said “goodbye for now” to Mom a few hours ago, and are now sitting at Richmond International Airport (I still want to call it “Byrd Field”) awaiting our flight to JFK and thence to SJC.

When we left, Mom was breathing well and it was clear that she knew what was going on — I know that she wants us to get on with our lives, but I still felt torn about leaving.

I’m confused.

Yesterday, we thought that Mom’s kidneys had shut down, since she’d produced no urine all day. But overnight, she started to complain, and eventually (I wasn’t here) they discovered a problem in the catheter; when they fixed that, she put out a full day’s worth of urine in one go (so to speak) and she’s been fine in that respect ever since. She’s sleeping comfortably now.

So as far as anyone can tell, there’s no reason for us to be on 24/7 vigil at her bedside — and so I’m thinking of going back to California for a while.

When this all started last week, Mom told us not to come out — but then her condition got worse, and we flew to Richmond, and I’m glad we did, because we all got to spend time with her while she was able to talk with us. She isn’t talking any more, but she knows when she has company and seems to enjoy us — but I also wonder if all the attention is tiring her out and whether she’d like some privacy (she has always told people not to visit her in the hospital).

So, as I said, I’m confused. As of this instant, I’m leaning towards flying today along with Diane and Jeff, and have bought a ticket — but I’m not happy with either alternative.

I wish someone would invent teleportation.

All of the adults are in Mom’s room now — we had thought about having a family dinner at my brother’s house, but the logistics defeated us (especially the fact that Diane, Jeff, and I had lunch after 2pm), so instead, we’ve gathered here. And we’re doing something I never expected to do: we’re watching American Idol. There’s a Richmond native on the show, and the town has gone crazy over him (including my brother’s family).

He’s about to sing, and I’m sure my typing would disturb the rapt audience, so I’d best stop soon, but before I close, I’ll mention the medical news: there’s no news. Mom’s been sleeping all day, very quietly.