this is not an eulogy (personal)

The traditional Chinese character for love (?)...Image via Wikipedia

no matter how prepared you think you are for someone’s passing, you’re not. Momma and i talked about death extensively, through the years, not just when she received her cancer diagnosis. part of that was the nature of our chosen (early) careers — i became an LPN at 18; she went through the same program some 20 years later. the other part was just metaphysical conversation…i know at one point she didn’t feel like she could talk to anyone else without freakouts and tears, etc., so we would chat about death and what we thought and how we felt about it, and in some way, it pulled the fangs from death.

in NY, she had it all set up that her body would go to Syracuse U (snooze and loose, buggahs) and it was very important to her that those she left behind not be saddled with the oh-so-barbaric wake/funeral thing. she made the same arrangements when she moved to KY (the state, not the jelly) and so she was bound for the U of L. she was hoping maybe in playing with her naked body, they would find something that would help other people.

honestly, i think it was one of the kindest things she ever did for her children. we all plan to do the same thing. well, i might be laid to rest with the knight — but no wake. nothing like that. i think that’s an awful custom. i can see how some people need it for closure, but i am so thankful i don’t have to deal with hordes of people, well-meaning though they would be, and all the arranging thereof. i’ve had about all i can take.

****

the call, although expected, brought me to my knees. i was alone (thank you, Universe, the GC did not need to see me like that, a howling mess) so i got a lot of it out of my system before she got home. i tried to put on my Big Girl Pants, and i’m pretty sure i was a dismal failure.

when i got in the car, i kid you not, the song on the radio was Ozzy Osborne, singing, “Mama, I’m Coming Home.”

okay, Ma, i get it.

i arrived up on the farm in time to give her one last “see ya later, old woman.” i thought seeing her dead would freak me out, but it didn’t. she was still my Momma, and i rubbed her beautiful head, and kissed kissed kissed her most beloved face. i remembered that night in the hospital, when i told her how much i love her and that she was the perfect mother for me. how she kissed my fingers.

*regroup*

****

they took her out (the gentlemen were very kind) and loaded her up, and down the lane they went. it was almost like she was keeping an important appointment, or going on vacation. you’re so right, Kat — missed, but not gone.

****

i sat in her favorite chair with my face buried in the quilt i had made her, the quilt she never slept without. it smelled like her.

*regroup*

****

my brother and sister and i sat on the porch and talked about all kinds of things. the time she made spaghetti for Aunt Jean and it turned out in a big, goopy ball. how much she loved the little theater and the people involved. we brought up well-loved names from the past, and many other anecdotes.

some hard things were said, things that made me bite my tongue so hard i thought i was going to have a hemorrhage. it was not the time nor the place, so i just let those things go. there *will* be a time. oh, yes, there will, but that wasn’t it, and i know Momma would be proud of me.

****

i’m trying not to feel angry. i’m trying not to feel betrayed. i’m trying to spin it to the best possible light, but i’m not doing so well with that at the moment.

****

Now if you’re feelin’ kinda low ’bout the dues you’ve been paying,
Future’s coming much too slow.
And you wanna run but somehow you just keep on stayin’,
Can’t decide on which way to go.
Yeah, yeah, yeah…

I understand about indecision,
But I don’t care if I get behind.
People livin’ in competition,
All I want is to have my peace of mind.

****

i came home and jumped in the hottest bath i could stand, trying to get rid of the smashing headache i had acquired. a conversation with Baby Sissy did a lot to ease the smashing heartache.

****

i didn’t sleep much last night. my eyes are quite swollen, and in the mirror this morning i almost didn’t recognize myself. i spent much time reading my mother’s JS — and it brought such peace.

she had a hard life. she really did. but i take great comfort knowing the last years, she was content. maybe not happy — but content with peaks of happiness. she appreciated each and every little kindness that she was shown, and i know she loves each and every one of her JS friends dearly. she was so touched at the companionship and love that she was shown here. in the last few weeks, she would positively light up when i told her the latest news about her family on JS.

*regroup*

****

with her journal on JS, and her “Wierd World” columns (she always knew how the deliberate misspelling of “weird” drove me crazy, heh) i know anytime i want to visit, i can. to me, that’s the true gift of blogging — and no one will ever know how grateful i am i have that of her, and that other people do, too.

she is a magnificent woman. perfect? oh, hell no. she was flawed and made magnificent mistakes. but who doesn’t love a flawed heroine?

****

when i left the farm, i kid you not, the radio station played three Eagles songs in a row. her favorite.

okay, Ma, i get it.

but she wasn’t done. the next song they played was Boston’s “Peace of Mind.”

okay, Ma. OKAY ALREADY.

heh.

Now everybody’s got advice they just keep on givin’,
Doesn’t mean too much to me.
Lots of people out to make-believe they’re livin’,
Can’t decide who they should be.

I understand about indecision,
But I don’t care if I get behind.
People livin’ in competition,
All I want is to have my peace of mind.

Take a look ahead, take a look ahead. Look ahead.

****

i’m not crying for her. she’s moved on, and left me behind, but that’s the natural order.

i’m crying for me. it’s totally selfish. i’ve lost my best friend, the person that knows me the best and loves me anyway, accepted me for who i am and always challenged me to be my best, try my best at least, and never chided me when i fell short, which is a common occurrence.

*regroup*

****

i know it will stop hurting in time. i know it will.

i don’t think it will be today.

****

thank all of you, so much for reading and hanging. thank you for the loving thoughts, and thank you, most of all, for contributing such love and friendship to my Momma. she loved you all, you know. she really did.

your comments and email help so much. you just have no idea. bless you all, bless you.

*regroup*

****

and now?

All I want is to have my peace of mind.

Reblog this post [with Zemanta]
Share

10 thoughts on “this is not an eulogy (personal)

  1. thanks so much, Avid. i appreciate the good wishes, very much.

    washy, thank you very much for your kind words. made me tear up, actually, although that’s not too hard to do, these days.

    thanks for stopping by and reading. i’ll get back to the regularly scheduled blogging at some point, i just need to process a little first, and blogging has always been my crack.

    not that i’ve ever done crack, i’m just sayin’. heh.

    thanks again. the support helps more than i can tell you.

    <3

    nettas last blog post..this is not an eulogy (personal)

  2. I can completely understand how you feel. I went through the same things five years ago, though it seems like yesterday. I miss my mom every day. It gets a little easier and you tend to remember the fun times, but tears will still come especially at unexpected moments. Hang in there and know that she is with you…always.

    Annas last blog post..5th Annual OROC 5K Walk/Run

  3. thank you, anna, and my condolences on your loss. five years seems like a long time in some ways, and so short in others. thanks for taking the time to share — i appreciate it.

    i do, cassy. very much. thanks for the good wishes and for stopping by. it really helps.

    wow, washy — thanks.

Leave a Comment