Two Years Ago
21 May 2011 1 Comment
in not kids Tags: death, family, mom
Two years ago, I got a call before 8 o’clock in the morning.
Two years and just a few days ago, my mom was still alive.
Last year, I went to the cemetery and talked to my mom. Then, I went shoe shopping. That night, some friends took me out and I got more smashed than I’ve been in a long time. Since college. (But still not as smashed as I got on my 21st birthday.) I’m just sayin’…
Two years ago, I was in the car on my way to Fremont to a friend’s daughter’s birthday party. My aunt Carol called. She wanted to know how many tables we were going to have at the reception after my mom’s funeral. I said ten. Ten eight-person rounds. She thought that would be too many, and she didn’t want to see a lot of empty chairs. I was thinking that our family alone is about 40 people, and we’d definitely have 80. I remained firm in my decision to put out ten tables.
We had a rosary the night before the funeral. There were probably 30 people there. Family. Some of my mom’s co-workers. Our next door neighbors from when I was little, whom I hadn’t seen since I was in grade school when they moved away. My 5th grade teacher, Mrs. Dorsey. A couple of my dad’s friends.
The funeral the next day was pretty well packed. There are four sections of pews in the church. The middle two were almost full. That’s about what they’d get at the 10:45 Mass I used to go to.
At the reception, they needed to add more tables.
There was a table full of people from the Pleasant Hill Senior Center. There was a table full of my sister’s friends. (Most of her friends remained in the area after high school graduation. Most of mine didn’t.) There was a table that included my sister’s best friend from grade school, my mom’s hairdresser, and my mom’s manicurist. There was a table full of my mom’s co-workers, who must have had to take time off in the middle of the day to attend the funeral. (I don’t know if there was anyone in medical records for a few hours that day.) There was a table or two of my dad’s family – 2 aunts, 1 or 2 uncles, 2 cousins and their wives, 1 cousin’s wife, 1 second cousin, all from up north. My godmother was there. One of my friends from high school came with her husband and their son. Oh, and of course my mom’s family – 4 uncles, 3 aunts, I can’t even remember how many cousins, my cousin’s girlfriend even though that cousin couldn’t make it, my grandmother, my sister and her family.
My sister and I had just started planning my mom’s 60th birthday party. It was going to be at Christmas 2009. We asked Mom whom she wanted to invite. She said, “Just family.”
I still wonder why she said that. Did she think that no one else would want to come? I thought we’d invite everyone – her co-workers, her friends from near and far, her manicurist and hair dresser. She said, “Just family”.
I hope she knew, before she died, how many people cared about her. Between the rosary and the funeral, there were probably 100 people. And those are just ones that could drop everything in the middle of a Thursday. I know her friends from Pittsburgh wanted to come, as well as some family who just couldn’t swing the long distance trip. I got so many email messages and cards from her cousins. Almost every cousin sent something, in fact. And 2 of her aunts and 1 of her uncles – the only ones who were still alive at the time, actually.
Over 100 people. I hope she knew. And if she didn’t, I hope she was there and saw. I hope she was pleased at the turn out. I hope she heard all the nice words people were saying. I hope she knew, posthumously, how many people cared.
What makes me very sad is the chance that she doesn’t know. That there’s nothing after this life. That she died thinking she was a burden, and never had the chance to know the truth.
People love you mom. People care about you. People think of you every day. People miss you. People want you back. People want to call you and tell you their news. People want to wish you a Happy Birthday and buy you Christmas presents.
I hope you know all that.
Life Update
07 Jul 2009 Leave a Comment
in past Tags: adoption, death, mom, money, twilight
(originally published on LiveJournal)
And that leads me to my next thought, which is, if I/we had been more responsible in the last couple of years, we might get to keep the money, or do something slightly impractical, instead of using it all to pay debts. I really want to get Jack a good play structure. I really want to adopt again. I really want to add on to this house so we can adopt again. I really want a lot of things. But mostly, I really want my mom to be around again. I miss her.
Speaking of our house, we bought it for $426K in 2004 and now it’s worth $205K. So, I have to figure out which agency or service to call to ask how we can possibly be expected to keep up two mortgages for far more than our house is worth. BTW, our house in NH sold for $220K in 2004. So…
Speaking of my mom, I’m kind of envious of people who get hospital stays to say good-bye to their loved ones. My grandfather’s death in 2005 was one of those. He was in the hospital for about a week. It was awful. But we got to say to good bye and know that he heard us. My mom didn’t get any of that. All the people who talked at her Rosary and then at the Memorial Service. She never knew.
I know that prolonged hospital stays are draining for everyone and I don’t mean to wish that on anyone. It’s just how I feel right now. Please don’t eviscerate me for it.
To end on a happy note, I’ve re-read “the good parts” of the Twilight series several times now. I have to give the books back to my friend, or else I will memorize the part where Bella hits Jacob and breaks her hand. Max read all of the books. He had read the first three before, but read them again before reading the fourth book.
I need ice cream. Why does Dreyer’s Grand Light have to use all sorts of funky ingredients? I like their flavors. Breyer’s doesn’t use the same funky ingredients, but it doesn’t taste as creamy, nor does it come in many fun flavors. Like S’mores and Birthday Cake. Friggin’ high fructose corn syrup.
- Location:home, Antioch, CA
- Mood:
hungry - Music:Love for Sale, Ella Fitzgerald
Anytime
05 Jun 2009 Leave a Comment
in past Tags: death, mom, music, singing
(originally posted on LiveJournal)
I’ve been in a showtunes mood the last few days.
I started today with The Mystery of Edwin Drood. Due to the vagaries of iTunes, it was followed by “Anytime”, from Infinite Joy (because it’s sung by Norm Lewis, and “N” comes after “M”).
Anytime you laugh
Anytime you cry
Anytime you hear a sound
When you’re on the grass
Lying on the ground
Anytime you wash your hands
I’ll be around
And I just started to think, and think about my mom, because isn’t a mom always there? Or always supposed to be there?
I’m out there on the baseball field
Though I’m well concealed
I’ll be out there cheering
I’m out there in the books you read
It is guaranteed I’m not disappearing fast
Anytime, no not anytime
And then I cried because she did disappear.
I am there each fall
I am present without warning
And I’m watching it all
Yes I’m watching it all I really hope that she is. I hope she gets to see Jack at Disneyland for the first time. She loved Disney. Maybe because we did, or maybe we love it because she did. I don’t know. I just know that there are so many firsts, so many events, moments, she’s not going to get to be present for. I knew she wouldn’t make it to his high school graduation. But I wanted so much for her to be here to hold her granddaughter. I loved sharing Jack with her. She’s the only person who was excited by him all the time. Jack has a blog, but I haven’t updated it in months. I’m not even sure I should anymore, because I think she was really the only person who read it.
I am there in sky
I don’t know why this thing did happen
But this much is clear
Anytime or anywhere
I am there Do you think that dead people, in an afterlife, regret being dead? I know I wish she had just quit smoking. Quit blaming her childhood for her problems, so she couldn’t get past them. I wish she would have just thought for a minute about how her being sick affected everyone else. My sister said at the service that my mom always put other people before herself. And that was mostly true. But when it came to her self-destructive tendencies, she never saw how they hurt us. Or maybe she did, and that was the only way she could get any power in the relationship, or so she thought. I could really see her punishing herself to punish us.
Anytime you fight
Anytime you gained a pound
Anytime it’s day
Anytime it’s night
Anytime the earth moves
I’ll be around So cliche, but I wish I had told her some things. Like I didn’t blame her for being a not-so-good mom. I knew she tried her best. I told her that. We had a toast at our wedding, and I toasted mom for always loving me and trying her best. So I told about 100 people, if they remember. I bet she remembered. I really tried, ever since Jack was born, to be more cognizant of her feelings and to try and share with her.
In a summer breeze
On a perfect evening
I’m out there when you celebrate
When the world seems great
I’ll be waiting by your side
Anytime, yes anytime I hope the world seems great again soon. We went to the County Fair on Saturday. The last two years, I’ve come home and posted on Jack’s blog. I couldn’t do that this year. The fair was so odd – us at the fair was so odd. Max did Our Town the year we got married. I wonder if this is how Emily felt when she was dead. That everything suddenly took on more meaning because we know it’s finite. It’s all well and good to say to live each day like it’s your last, but you can’t. I don’t want to spend my last day writing the glossary for HGTV Home & Landscape Platinum. I’m pretty sure my mom didn’t want to spend her last day fighting with my aunt and fighting to breathe. She died in her bathroom. Come to think of it, so did my grandmother – her bio mom. Grandma Missestoney died May 26, 1979. My mom died almost exactly 30 years later. 30 days minus 5. I wonder if they’re up there bickering. Or do all alcoholics go to hell? (My grandmother was an alcoholic. I always prayed for her to be in heaven. She’s buried at Queen of Heaven cemetery.)
I am there each fall
I am present without warning
And I’m watching it all
Yes I’m watching it all
I want her to be here. I want to hug her again. I want to be able to call her. At the very least, I want to have said a proper good bye. I didn’t even give her a card this Mother’s Day. I was using our (company’s) greeting card software, and it kept crashing. Her Christmas present is still sitting on my desk. At least she saw that. It’s a scrapbook. The company I bound it with did an awful job, and it took me forever to get around to printing and binding it myself. I thought, maybe I should give it to Jack’s birthmom. But I kind of don’t want to. I don’t know why. She called a couple of days before my mom died. I haven’t called her back. I can’t deal with her drama right now.
I am there in snow
I don’t know why this thing happened
But this much is clear
Anytime you cry
Anytime you sing
For anything And I lose it again every time I hear those two lines: Anytime you sing / for anything. At least I did a good job on “The Way We Were”. People complimented me. It was very different than my grandfather’s funeral, where I sucked, and no one knew it was me singing. This time, I sang the entire song with my eyes closed. It’s a bad habit I got out of years ago, sometime in high school maybe. But I closed my eyes and kind of imagined being in the song, and I sung it. I miss singing. I’m glad I did a good job for mom. I hope Grandpa was listening too.
I am there each fall
I don’t know why this thing happened
But this much is clear
Be aware
I am there
You know, I can imagine her being all Angels in the Outfield for Jack. Or for Cassie. I bet she’ll be a tomboy, because Jack wants to be a princess.
I just wish so much for another few minutes. Just some warning. A real warning, not this sense of dread I had for the last 4 years. It can’t have happened so fast. It can’t be over that fast. A person – my mother – was here on Wednesday, and she wasn’t on Thursday. She just stopped. Stopped being here.
I go to pick up her ashes tomorrow – or today – it’s past midnight.
I finished the cake Jack’s teacher made for me. And I’ve listened to this song eight times. I’m glad it made me cry, because I needed to cry, but felt so ridiculous doing so. But that’s another story…
- Location:home, Antioch, CA
- Mood:
sad - Music:”Anytime”, Infinite Joy
Mom’s Death, Part Five
04 Jun 2009 Leave a Comment
in past Tags: death, Friends, mom
(originally posted on LiveJournal)
The Thursday that my mom died, I called a friend of mine from high school. Only one person reading this knows her, but still, I’m going to call her Sabrina, just in case. Sabrina has two kids, and her daughter had her 6th birthday on the Saturday after Mom died. The last birthday party I went to for the daughter was her 2nd. So, I was calling to let her know we were still coming, but I did want to tell her what was up.
Sabrina is practical, if nothing else. When I told her Mom died, she said, “Oh. Well, you kind of expected that, right?” I mean, she sounded sorry, but still. On the other hand, she was the only one of my friends who came to Mom’s funeral, and she brought her husband and son. It’s just weird how people react, I guess is my point.
On Friday morning, the phone woke me up again, this time just before 9. It was one of my sister’s friends, Heidi. Heidi volunteered to do all the food for the reception following the funeral. I tried to go back to sleep, but couldn’t. Then, it was one phone call after the other. I can’t even remember who they all were, just that they were all related to Mom’s death. I know who I didn’t talk to – my dad. He was having carpet put in. He had to go to the cemetery at 8:30, so my grandmother was at his house at about 7 to stay with the guys putting the carpet in. I couldn’t get through to the house. I assumed that she couldn’t hear the phone over the noise.
I talked to the woman at the cremation place to order an urn. The priest told us that my mom should be cremated within a week, so that’s why we picked Thursday. Nope. It takes 7 to 10 business days to cremate someone, and that’s only after all the paperwork is filled out. I was pissed. I couldn’t change anything, because people – most importantly, my sister – had already made arrangements. I hated the fact that we picked this lovely urn and no one’s ever going to see it. I also thought that if we knew that, then we could have made different arrangements. More people might be able to come. My sister wouldn’t have had to change her plans. (Maybe she would have anyway. I don’t know.) It just really made me unhappy.
Max arranged for Jack to stay at school all day so he could be in Pleasant Hill to help. We finally got going around 11.
Once at my Dad’s house, I realized that the carpet guys had unplugged my Dad’s phone. There was a mess of wires and cords below my Mom’s computer, so I sorted that all out.
Once we finally got the phone to work, there were more phone calls. More looking for Mom’s belongings and papers. We had to be at the church hall at 1 pm. Heidi was going to be there. She beat us, and was filling out the form when we got there. Heidi is Mormon. My dad is Catholic. Just so you know.
Heidi brought her daughter, and Dad spent most of the time playing with the kid, while Heidi asked all these questions about utensils, coffee, wine, etc. I wouldn’t have thought of half of them. My dad knew more about what was available at the hall than the woman did. He’s spent over 30 years in that place with the Knights of Columbus, doing pancake breakfasts and making sausage.
More phone calls. Talking to the cremation place, which I keep mentally calling “the cremary” which is gross. We got the church to do a Rosary at 5 pm the night before the funeral. The priest included his services and the church in the funeral price.
All day Friday, I was going on both my Dad’s phone and Max’s cell phone. I still couldn’t find mine. Ann had made reservations and was driving back to Florida with her husband and kids. My Aunt Donna was arriving Sunday. I talked to my Mom’s best friend from high school for a good long time. My Aunt Sue called multiple times.
To be able to get an obituary in, I had to write it before 10 am on Saturday. If we wanted an obit with a picture, then that had to be called in by 4 pm on Friday. I called the Contra Costa Times office just after 4 and asked for rates. It came down to about $1.50 per word. The guy told me he’d be there til 5 if we did want to run a picture. Fortunately, I had my laptop at my dad’s and we found a picture. I had been writing the obit for most of the day, in between phone calls. I’ll post it separately. I think it turned out nice.
We had to leave at 5 to make sure we’d be on time to pick up Jack. I talked to the pianist again in the car. That started my negotiations with the piano player. She basically told me that I couldn’t sing a Streisand song for my mom during Communion. When I mentioned that my sister might want to sing, she decided that had to be a prelude. So Ann and I talked and decided that we’d both sing all the hymns (3) together, and I’d do the Streisand song (“The Way We Were”) and she’d talk. I didn’t want to have to learn 5 songs. I also didn’t want to sing after the people gave their eulogies. Oh well.
We had to go to Target to get a present for Sabrina’s daughter. Jack had had a late snack at school, so we ended up eating popcorn and chicken fingers at Target for dinner. And a Jamba Juice. Very healthy.
I stayed up late looking for pictures of my mom to make a collage for her funeral.
Saturday, I decided to go to the Farmers’ Market with Jack. It was actually pretty nice. Nice to spend time with him. I ended up spending 20 minutes on the phone (Max’s cell) with my grandmother making breakfast plans for Sunday. We got back to the house late, so we started out for the party late, and we got a little lost, so we were like 45 minutes late. The party was at a gymnastics center, but they only had the floor for an hour. So, Jack got all of 5 minutes to play.
I thought being at the party would be helpful. It wasn’t. I didn’t know anyone else there, other than Sabrina. And looking around at moms and kids just made me think how much I missed my mom. How Mom was going to miss out on Jack’s life. I just felt awful.
We invited ourselves back to Sabrina’s house and watched Bolt, which was cute. We went to the Elephant Bar for dinner, and I came very close to losing it at the table. I started to cry, but regained composure. I felt like I had to cry, but I didn’t know how. That lasted the whole night.
Once again, I stayed up late looking for pictures.
Mom’s Death, Part Four
31 May 2009 Leave a Comment
in past Tags: ann, dad, death, grandparents, mom
(I originally posted this on LiveJournal. I’m editing it because I don’t want to share everything with the world.)
I last saw my mom on the Sunday before Memorial Day. She was incredibly upset. She brought over a trunk full of stuff, some of which we kept, some of which is in our garage awaiting a long-anticipated garage sale. She gave Jack a really lovely Disney snow globe. (It turns out that the snow globe was a present from her manicurist.)
I talked to her Monday or Tuesday.
The phone rang Thursday morning, a little bit before 8 am. We have distinctive rings for each of our parents, so I knew it was my parents calling. I picked up the phone next to the bed.
Me: Hello?
Dad: Ah… you’re awake.
Me: Not really.
Dad: Mama passed away.
Me: Are you serious?!?
We had a brief discussion, and then I told my dad I’d be over later. I cried for awhile. Jack woke up. I had to stop crying.
I emailed my managers and two of the program managers I work with. I ate breakfast. I called my sister and left a message on her machine. I assumed my dad would have called her at work, so I called her home and just said, “Call me when you have a chance.” My Aunt Sue called me. She had called my mom to discuss the new carpet. That’s when she found out. She called the other aunts and uncles (though not my Aunt Monica, their step-sister). Apparently, my dad didn’t get ahold of my sister, so I called her at work. Her boss told me she was on vacation. I said, “Oh my God she’s in South Carolina!”
I had to explain to her boss who I was and why I was calling. Boss Lady said she’d try to contact Ann. I found my brother-in-law’s cell phone number and called it.
Ann: Hell-lo? (subtext: Why are you calling me?)
Me: Hey.
Ann: What’s up? (subtext: Why are you calling me?)
Me: Are you in a place where you can sit down?
Ann: I’m sitting down. (subtext: are you insane?)
Me: Mom died this morning.
Ann: (breathless) What?
She had to hand the phone to my b-i-l (Jim) and I told him the little that I knew.
I headed to my Dad’s at about 11. I got there as he was leaving to go to the church. The coroner had just left. I drove my dad in my mom’s car. Mom wouldn’t let anyone drive her car, certainly not my father. I got to drive it once, to Safeway, which is about a mile away, and even then I had to promise not to drive over the speed limit or park near other cars. So, driving Mom’s car certainly made me realize she wasn’t there anymore.
We talked to the priest, one I didn’t know. This was actually good, because the normal parish priest called my mom “Nancy”. (Her name is Kathy.) We picked a day for the funeral. We dropped the drapes off at the dry cleaners. We went back to my dad’s house, and dad started picking up one thing after another. He wanted to find Mom’s wedding ring. I couldn’t find it anywhere, though I did find her engagement ring. I got him to sit down and we picked some readings. It was a hodge-podge day. We couldn’t find my grandmother. We knew she played golf in the morning, but when it was about 1:30 and no one had heard from her, my sister (still in SC, looking for flights) said I should call security at her retirement community. At that moment, Grandma pulled up in front of Dad’s house. She was incredibly upset. But, she found my mom’s wedding ring.
My cell phone was lost, so I had to use Max’s, which I hate. I can’t answer it without pressing a button and cutting the person off, and I can’t go through the menus to call back, because the menus are pictures.
I stayed at my Dad’s until after dinner time. I got home around 7:30, and Jack wanted to know why I’d been at Nana and Grandpa’s all day. I told that story in my post about my mom dying.
I didn’t get to bed until sometime after 2 am. My sister’s friend Heidi called and woke me up just before 9 am on Friday. But that is the next day…
Mom’s Death, Part Three
29 May 2009 Leave a Comment
(I originally posted this on LiveJournal. Unless you’re me, there is no part three. I’m editing the series because I don’t want to share everything with the world.)
For a long time, I’ve been thinking of journaling about my relationship with my mother. The problem is, it’s really hard to do so without writing about events that I just don’t want to share. So, it looks like I’m going to write around those.
Mom also wasn’t terribly supportive of doing anything challenging. This is hard to explain without being longwinded. Basically, if I wanted to do something big – audition for a show, travel to a college, try for a scholarship – I had to do it by myself. I couldn’t count on her to help. She wasn’t terribly encouraging. Once I got into a show, or started doing something, then she would be helpful and supportive. But I had to take the first leap – the hardest one – by myself, all of the time. She was like George McFly in Back to the Future, before Marty went back to the 1950s.
I also resented the hell out of the fact that there was never enough money to get acting or music lessons, but always enough to feed her cigarette habit. I have respiratory problems to this day that I blame on her smoking.
My sister spoke at the memorial service. She said that Mom always put other people before herself, and that was very true. I guess that most of the time, that’s a good quality. On the other hand, Mom could be a pushover and a martyr. I suppose a lot of people can.
Mom loved attention, positive or negative.
Mom also never wanted help, or rather, maybe she wanted help but didn’t know how to ask for it and got mad because people didn’t offer her the help she wanted. She hated flying, for example. Once she got on the oxygen, she used it as an excuse to stop traveling. My sister lives in Florida, and we all wanted Mom to visit her. Mom argued that she couldn’t take the tank on the plane, and that the airlines charge to use their approved oxygen. I did some research and found some very portable tanks that are airplane-safe. But Mom would balk, “I have to get tested” she’d say. She never wanted to deal with any sort of hassle, real or imagined.
I think that’s the biggest reason she didn’t even learn about the gastric bypass. My mom, 4 feet, 11 inches, was, by her own admission, 250 pounds when she died. When I first moved to California again, her doctors wanted her to consider the gastric bypass. She wouldn’t think of it. By the time we convinced her to at least learn more, her doctors said she was too ill to have it. Problem solved. Sort of.
Please understand, that my Mom really was a lovable person. She had a bizarre sense of humor, but she could be truly funny. She always tried to be upbeat. She liked to make the little things fun. My sister told a story that I’d forgotten. At one of Ann’s birthday parties, we had to go to the grocery store, but we were all in pajamas. Mom drove us all down to Safeway and we marched around the store in a “follow-the-leader” line. I remember that now. It really was a blast.
Mom would often go out of her way to get you exactly what you wanted. Then again, there were times that she’d buy lots of little things instead of the one big thing. Mom was all about stuff, which is why she called on the aunts to help get it all out of her house.
I guess Mom and I never really understood each other. She wanted me to call her for advice, and talk to her every day, the way she talked to her step mom. I don’t talk to anyone everyday, unless they live in my house. Mom was great for advice on what to do when you were sick. Even in New Hampshire, when I was sick I’d call up my mom. The problem is, I’ve always thought that I was smarter than my mom. Mom never went to college. She never came off as particularly educated. I started beating her at Trivial Pursuit when I was 8 or 9. Mom tended to be gullible. I perceived that as weak. I was always independent, and that bothered her. She liked people to depend on her.
Oh, and Mom was really bad at saying “no”. She was wildly inconsistent. It was easy to take advantage of her when we were younger. We never had curfews. I had more freedom than any of my friends.
My Uncle Jon spoke at Mom’s rosary, about how Mom always treated kids with respect. She listened to what they had to say. She made them feel important. That’s certainly true. I do think that’s influenced how I am with Jack, and how I hope to be.
My mother and father had the world’s most inexplicable relationship. They just didn’t seem to like each other all that much, ever. My dad had meningitis when I was 5, and it changed him completely. For years, they simply didn’t talk to one another. My dad called me in Pennsylvania one day to tell me to call my mother in California at work to tell her something. I refused. A lot of people at the service and rosary called my dad mom’s “best friend”. If I treated my best friend that way…
So yes, it seems that it all boils down to the fact that I never really “got” Mom. I love her because she’s my mom. She worked very hard. She helped put me through college. She often did what I asked her to do, and I would do many things for her. I wanted to give her so much more than I could, and I bet she felt the same way. She was funny, and dedicated, and sweet. She was a kick. She had many, many friends. I’m not sure that she knew how many lives she touched.
I miss my mom. I wish I could sort it all out, and be at peace with myself over all of the feelings I have. Perhaps I will, someday. I just know that she shouldn’t be dead just yet. She should be alive, and complaining about how I never call, how my grandmother monopolizes Jack, how my Dad mumbles and leaves stuff all over the house. She should be telling the same three stories about my nephews, and cracking jokes, and observing. I just wanted a little more time.
Mom’s Death, Part One
23 May 2009 2 Comments
I originally posted this on LiveJournal. I’m editing because I don’t want to share all the details with the world.
To process my mother’s passing, I have to start about a week ago. My parents have always been pack rats. Sometime after my sister moved out, they started getting rid of stuff, very slowly, but still. My mom’s room had this corner piled with Avon boxes, and all the boxes were full and completely disorganized. In 1999, I came home from NH for Thanksgiving and completely stole my mom’s pictures. You see, they were stuck in boxes wherever they would fit. These were pictures dating back to the 1930s. So I wanted to preserve them. And preserve them I did. (This also started my scrapbooking addiction.)
I tell you this because, after taking the photos, I was banished from my mother’s room. If I was ever back there for more than a few minutes, she came looking for me to make sure I wasn’t going through her stuff.
When it came time for mom to organize all the boxes, she found she couldn’t do it alone. (Remember, she was on oxygen and obese.) But she wasn’t going to ask me to help, for fear I’d take more of her stuff. So, she asked my Aunt Carol.
Aunt Carol said she’d come up, and somehow Aunt Sue got involved.
I really don’t know how, but my Aunt Donna (mom’s brother’s wife) ended up flying out from Pennsylvania to help with the “box project”.
Mom wanted to get her “junk” cleared out and her room cleaned up. She needed help for some of the physical aspects, but she also wanted some company.
The aunts threw out tons of stuff.
Then, the aunts decided that my mom and dad needed new carpet and new living room furniture. Aunt Carol decided that everything should go now. She asked me to find someone who could pack up the two front rooms so new carpet could be put in. She also told me that Maria, the cleaning lady, wasn’t doing a good job, and asked me to find someone. I said I knew of an eco-friendly housekeeping service located near where Mom lived.
Before I did any of this arranging, though, I called my mom and asked what she wanted. Mom didn’t want any of this. I said that we’d wait a week and talk about it Sunday (which would have been last Sunday).
My mom was distraught. She likes Maria. She liked having carpet. She wanted some company and some organization, not “Clean Sweep”. She came to our house on Sunday like she always does, and she was so stressed, so upset. I’m sure she teared up a few times. She cried when she left the house, because she had just been talking to me about how Aunt Carol had gotten rid of so much stuff.
On Wednesday night, my mom was having a hard time breathing. She waffled about going to the hospital. At 7 am, she decided she wanted to go. She sent my dad to get her some clothes while she used the bathroom. My Dad found her there, not breathing.
New carpet went into my Dad’s house the day after my mother died.
One of my sister’s friends is being an angel and donating the food and cooking it for the gathering after the memorial. She asked me if she could call my aunts and ask them to bring cake and do a few centerpieces. Sure. I ended up asking my Aunt Sue about the cake, and told her Heidi would be calling about that and the centerpieces.
I just miss my mom. Today, Jack was as close to an angel as we’re ever gonna get, and I immediately thought – Great, now I’ll have something to talk to my mom about when she comes over tomorrow. Only she’s not coming over tomorrow. Or ever. And she’s never going to see my nephews again. She saw Cyrus once – one time in his whole life. And Orion twice. I was just hoping that she could make it to Christmas. And she didn’t. She won’t.
I Have Magic
22 May 2009 Leave a Comment
in conversation Tags: death, mom
(originally published on LiveJournal)
My mom passed away this morning. Well, technically yesterday morning, as it’s 12:49 am.
We told Jack that Nana went to heaven. He asked a couple of questions, and seemed OK. Then, just before bed, he asked again, “Why did Nana go to heaven?” We told him that Nana was very, very sick. Jack said, “Only great-grandma and grandpa can come to my house now.” Keep in mind, we didn’t tell him that he’d never see Nana again. His experience with heaven thus far is 2 dogs and we’ve told him about my grandfather, who died just before Jack was born.
Then Jack said, “I have magic and I can bring Nana back from heaven.” That kid… he’s awesome!
