Stomach pains and bravery

Since my mother got sick, I have not slept well and my stomach has been hurting, so I really can't eat well either. The stomach issue has been a problem because, no matter how inocuous the food I eat, however bland it is, at the first bite, I have terrible stomach cramps. I'm sure it is because of the stress of the last couple weeks. I have been dealing with the pain. I now know for certain that my mentally ill friend is manipulative. For the last few days, when she called, she has been sounding depressed. We set up a luncheon date where I take her to lunch and then to the grocery store. Last night she called and guess what? She doesn't sound depressed any more! She suggested that we add trips to the library and fabric store for canvas and needles. I told her that lunch and grocery store are enough, that the head of the group home could take her to the library and fabric store. I am annoyed with myself for giving in to her manipulations and I don't want to spend money at the fabric store. I am already paying for lunch and snacks and it is expensive. I could kick myself for giving in to her manipulations. My mother was very brave. She was a big woman and she had mobility issues. Every morning she would say, "I guess it's time for me to get up now." She would wait a few more minutes and then repeat herself. She would sit up on the bed and someone would help her stand. She walked with her walker into the bathroom and then into the living room to her lift chair. We would turn on the lamp by her chair. I would see light in the shade as I drove by and know that it was on for my mother. It took so much courage to walk because she was afraid that she would fall. And she did fall a few times and dad would use the hoyer lift to help her to into her wheelchair and then into her lift chair. She had to take several medications. A lot of big capsules. She would try several times to swallow these pills and I could see that it was difficult. But she kept on trying. Many of my mother's brothers and sisters wrote notes about the compassionate care that my dad provided for my mother so that she could stay at home. I feel the weight of trying to write thank you notes to all the people who shared this sad time with us. It's difficult because I have words in my head but I can't transfer the words to paper. I re-read what I've written and the words don't make sense.