A Shock to the System

I'm up at my folks again at a time of year I'm not usually here. My mom just died and I'm straightening up her affairs and getting my dad set up so he function without her, which is a pretty tall order. They've been together for 47 years, so I'm not really sure how well he's going to manage. It's been pretty hard on both of us, needless to say. Mom had just been out to visit me in October and wasn't feeling well then, and though we expected either a stroke or a heart attack to be the end of her and have been steeling ourselves for the eventuality, it's still a shock when it happens. Thankfully, it was fairly quick, and she didn't suffer, and she managed to hang on long enough for me to get to see her, though she never regained consciousness. In some ways that's good and in others it's bad. I know she would have hated to have been as helpless as she was, and I don't know what you can say to someone in that situation. She knew Dad and I loved her, as much as she would let herself believe it, and that's what matters.

Between us, Dad and I have about one functioning brain. I can't ever remember being this exhausted, or sleeping this badly. It's not that I can't fall asleep, but that I keep having strange and vivid dreams, and waking up in the night and seeing the light on in what used to be her room. Dad moved in there within a couple of days after she died, he says because the bed's easier to make and, I think, because he feels like she's there, somehow. I think he'll probably move into the larger room she used in the summer, the room that used to be my bedroom, when I leave. Then I'll probably sleep in his old room, which was mine when I was little and we first moved here, and things will somehow come full circle.

I can make myself do about one hard thing a day, and after that, I'm done for. We arranged for her cremation on Thursday, and that was easier than I'd thought it was going to be because the guy doing it was someone I'd gone to high school with, Greg Buresh. He was really great to deal with and very, very kind. Greg's not the only old school buddy I've run into, either. It's been strangely like a high school reunion here. Usually I never see anyone I know from school but Mel, who is and will always be my best friend. This time, I first ran into Karen Emde, who used to live up the road from me. We used to go bike-riding together when we were kids. She had this really cool blue boy's banana seat bike with a steering wheel and tall sissy bar, and her feet were so hard from running around barefoot all summer that she could run over gravel. We weren't best friends because she was a year or two older, but we ran around together in the summer. Karen's now a nurse at Tawas and recognized me before I recognized her. Then there's Paul, my other oldest friend, whom I've known just a year less than I've known Mel (which is now something like 35 years), who called to ask if I wanted him to fly out here. And I know if I said yes, he'd be here. That's why we're still friends. We do for each other.

I just somehow couldn't manage to get a memorial service together. I didn't know where to start and I didn't really want to just throw something together with the usual crappy printed stuff provided by the funeral home. My aunt, mom's sister, suggested we schedule it for the spring, which seems like an excellent idea, given the unpredictability of the weather and the distance some people are coming. I know the Canadians are going to want to come, and that's a long way for them to drive (since there's nowhere to fly into here, really) in the middle of winter. And this will give me some time to get something suitable together: pick the right music (without necessarily subjecting anyone to opera) and do some nice memorial cards for her. Givent he weather right now, I think this was a wise decision.

It's funny what kinds of things stick in your head when you go through something like this. Like the weather: it's been rainy and cold and miserable since I flew home on Monday, with just a brief break for the sun the day after Mom died. Today it's snowing pretty heavily, something I usually really like and always loved when I lived up here in Northern Michigan. Usually it makes me feel snug and warm and happy. Today it just seems oppressive. This isn't the kind of weather I'm used to anymore, and because I flew home without any idea of how long I'd be here, I don't really have the clothes with me that I should. It's hard to enjoy it when you don't have the right clothes and can't get outside in it. When I was a kid, we'd skate and snowmobile and play hockey on the lake. Now it's just something to shovel, though it is beautiful.

One of the first things I had to do after Mom died was go out to K-mart and get myself enough clothes to last while I'm here (which will probably be until just after New Year's). If I'd been thinking straight, I'd have bought a pair of boots to leave here, since I'll be coming up more often. And since crap and inconveniences seem to happen all at once, of course, our water heater went out. Hopefully, that'll just be a new heating element and not the whole tank, but of course it happened Saturday morning during hunting season when all the tradesmen are out at hunting camp. Now that it's snowing, it's even easier to track deer, so the chances of getting hold of any of them and dragging them away from their fun are pretty slim. At least we have heat and water and electricity. Knock wood. With this kind of weather, either one's liable to go, since the power lines are all above ground.

Have I mentioned how much I hate the backwoods now? I've become such an urban girl that it irritates the crap out of me that I can't get a cell phone signal, that the dial-up modem keeps hanging up on me here, and that their idea of basic cable has three, count ‘em, three religious stations, the three major networks, a superstation from Chicago, TNT, WE, a Spanish station, and the Hallmark channel. Needless to say, the cable's getting upgraded. Dad will need something to do with himself besides play with the new cat we're going to get him, and it'll make my visits up here more bearable too.

This is really blathering and disjointed, but that's all I can manage right now. Dad's sitting around telling me war stories and trying not to cry at odd intervals, and I've been slowly going through Mom's things, and emptying her drawers and closets. Her jewelry and music have been the hardest, because those were both things that she loved.

The one nice thing about all this is hearing from other people how much they loved her, and seeing her through their eyes. We all present so many different faces to the world that's it's a wonder any of us ever think we know anybody, even the people who raised us.

Comments

[Em]

Remember, if you feel like chatting, that I have free cellphone nights and weekends. So if you are desperate to talk to someone from beyond the backwoods, call me from your dad's landline and I'll phone you back so it doesn't cost him. Oh, and obviously, call me ANYTIME, even during peak minutes!, if there's anything I can do to help.
Take good care of yourself. We'll get sushi when you get back, huh?

[Roger]

Ann, I understand some of what you are experiencing. My father died when I was 18 and was buried on Christmas eve. The death of parents is not easy. I've buried both of mine. Know that you have friends who have experienced these things and if you want to talk, send me an e-mail and I'll "e" the number back to you...rather not publish it here. In the meantime, know many people are keeping you in thoughts and prayers. Hugs and love to you.

[Rob]

Ann,

You're in all your many friends' thoughts and prayers. Like Em said (hi, Em!), take GOOD care of yourself. I wish I could help more, but you can't even call me; I don't have a long distance plan on Guam. (Most stateside companies don't service us out here.) Email any time -- it's finals and I'm in the office a lot. Let your friends take care of you.

Requiescat in pace. Rob