fight or flight

My mother is a fighter. The operation was a piece of cake, and she was so happy when my father and I picked her up from the hospital the same day. When I noted she was slightly greenish she explained that was 'contrast fluid' floating around, that she would have green pee for a while and didn't feel a thing. Not to worry then.
My brother had sent a lovely big bunch of flowers and even while on Hawaii managed to get the timing just right. Bonus points for brother.
The next day she had to dress up, and called me to tell that a certain jacket was now fitting better then before. And today she called to say she had played tennis (and won) and was almost ashamed of feeling so fit and healthy.

Last Saturday I tried to be on my best behaviour for kid-weekend. I got up early and went out to get fresh bread for breakfast. While I was in the kitchen the first thing I heard from the kids was a hushed 'shut up' (in bad language) from one step kid to the other. The other appeared in the kitchen shortly after, looked at the table and said 'Why are there only two of those bread rolls?'. Good morning kiddo, nice to have you back. Isn't it nice I got 4 kinds of fresh bread? and 10 small white rolls? I know not to expect kids to be grateful, I did bite my tongue and stuck to the good morning bit, but on the inside I cringed, my stomach shrunk and I knew I couldn't do it. After breakfast I talked with DP, told him I had to leave. That BFG had a free spot in the car for a weekend of hiking the tidal flats of the Waddensea, that I would be back on Sunday.
Small crisis ensued, DP asking if he should worry about BFG and me. Me answering the real worry is between DP and me. We talked a bit.
DP walked me to the train station, and when he waved goodbye I could see his eyes small with worry. I'm sorry it takes a crisis before he opens up, shows me he has feelings too, shows me he cares. Did feel guilty about that. But when BFG's car drove on the highway I was relieved to put miles between me and the weekend I didn't want.
Breathing the sea air was wonderful, walking through sea water on Sunday even better. Even at 5 AM
When I got back it was like nothing bad had ever happened.
Seven stages of grief? I guess I'm back at denial...

Oh, and I forgot to push the publish button on Friday..
Off to SAIL now. This weekend is wonderful, hope yours is too.