In my post before I left for this holiday, I mentioned my Papa’s chest pains and how worried?I was.? Granny made it sound so grave and scary, it seemed as though because she was worried, I should be too.?
The kids and I have been here at Papa and Granny’s since Tuesday, and I’ve asked him a couple of times how the chest pains were.? In typical Papa form, he answered, “Fine.? I’m not getting any younger.? Want a rum and coke?”
And in typical family form, I say, “Yes please,” and we talk about the fact that garbage day is Thursday and won’t that be exciting?? Also, there is free skating if Dylan wants to go.? Papa offers to take him and the whole time they’re gone, I worry.? Papa had a nap today, in his room with the door closed and as 4:50 approached, I worried.??I thought about how animals go off to die.? I know it sounds sick but if I’m not worried about something, I will go insane…er.
No one in this family says shit if their mouths are full of it.? We laugh, we banter, we act like a big baby if the 8 year old beats us at Go Fish, or?plays a game on the?computer and we don’t know how.? Actually that last?couple was just Papa.
So really, I doubt I’m going to get any answers out of Granny and Papa.? He won’t tell me Jack, and she can’t hear me to ask without him knowing.? Being nearly deaf has it advantages though.? She turns down her hearing aid at dinner when Papa has the t.v. blaring to hear the same news he watched at lunchtime.
All in all, they are the same people I’ve known and loved as long as I’ve been alive.? This house is full of amazing childhood memories that I’m telling Dylan about.? He’s thinks it’s pretty funny that Mommy used to hang out at Papa’s bar, drinking shooters of apple juice and playing the same song (Ode to Joy) on the same organ that he is sitting at today.? It’s an unfortunate thing I don’t have a hearing aid to turn down.
I will probably say to Papa tomorrow, “I wrote about you on that website,” and he will probably jokingly say, “What website?”?though he knows exactly where this site is.? He will probably read it, but not a word will be said about it.? That’s how we roll.? Is your family like that?
Edit: I didn’t mean this to be upsetting. We just don’t talk about the elephant in the room, like most families that I know. He’s been cracking death jokes all week - that’s how it goes around here. What doesn’t kill you, makes you laugh, in my family.
On Christmas Eve, I went out to the garage to get a beer for Daren, I came across this sight and had to run back for the camera.? Prior to this shot being taken, Terrance requested a?filet mignon?and garlic mashed potato dinner, and time with the chaplin to pray for his soul.
Tomorrow we leave for an extended Christmas Break. After Christmas Day, Daren will leave the kids and I in the loving, capable hands of my Granny and Papa for a week and a half, and he will have the privilege of studying without Thomas begging to use his calculator, or throw textbooks at his head. Silence for Daren. Also? Less dents in his skull.
My stomach is currently playing the part of a Mexican Jumping Bean. I’m so excited for Christmas to come, I nearly pee myself every time I think about it. My family is a fun one, and we’ll be surrounded by so much love and laughter, I’m sure I will suffer a Great Depression when it comes time to leave them all.
So tomorrow we will make our way to, across, and beyond the Concrete Jungle that is Toronto, all the while hoping the batteries in the Game Boy and V-Smile hold out as long as takes. Normally it’s about a 3 hour tour (a 3 hour tour), but traveling through rush hour, on Christmas weekend, and having to stop for dinner will make the trip at least 5 hours I’m sure.
As the last load of laundry spins in the dryer, my mind is a blur of activity that must happen tomorrow morning and I’ve already dreamt once this week about completely forgetting a vital present and having to drive all the way back to get it, on Christmas morning, only to have it fall and break in the family farm driveway after 6 hours in the car. Could that BE a longer sentence? Does your mind do these things to you? BECAUSE I’M FEELING QUITE NEUROTIC RIGHT NOW.
Once the packing is done and the checking and checking and checking that that one vital present is actually in the car, and we won’t back over it, or leave it on the roof of the car, I will be able to breathe. With Daren’s brain on school, I have been the one to steer the ship as Izzy would say. Shopping, planning, list making, cooking, cleaning, laundry, packing and most of all, panicking ever so slightly. I just want to get there and have a drink. Or eight. teen.
I’ve hesitated to talk about a couple of things that have been going on here, since I’m trying so. very. hard. to not be an alarmist. I’ve been undergoing tests for chest pains. My doctor was so kind as to inform me that I either have gall stones (in my lungs?? wah?), pleurisy, or lung cancer. Yeah, that. I’m a fucking idiot for smoking for 20 years. When I was 12 years old, hanging out in a bowling alley, trying to be cool, I wish somebody had shown up and smacked some sense in to me.
I had a chest x-ray last week and it finally came back: clear. It’s been an emotional couple of weeks around here. I’ve still got to have a chest ultrasound, but with the holidays I’ve put it off until I get back. I don’t want to know what the hell is wrong with me just yet. I have a more important someone to think about: my Papa.
My proud Papa has been giving us quite a scare lately. He has dropped out of parades this year, also due to chest pains. Last I heard, Granny was making an appointment for him, and I’ll find out more over Christmas.
So of course, my heart has been in my throat for a couple of weeks. I’m worried. I feel like screaming, most days, when I think of all the time I missed with my family over the last 13 years. Obviously I don’t want anything to happen to him. I don’t want the stress of Christmas to send him into something serious and I’m really scared. He has been more of a father to me than my own father. He’s the rock of the family. My Granny would be lost without him, we all would. All I can do is take a few deep breaths and wait to find out what is going on. I feel like jumping out of my skin right now.
I WANT MORE TIME. I really really can’t handle it if my boys don’t get to know how wonderful my Papa is. He’s hysterically funny, loves his family more than life, and I just want loads of time with him. I want to watch him teach my kids how to put bait on a hook, how to play the drums…please. I have so much I want to tell him, how much he has meant to me, how much I admire him, love him, want my boys to grow up like him.
I just hope I’m worrying for nothing. This time, please please please let this be a stupid neurotic Karen thing, and let it all be okay.
As some of you already know, our family farm has dial-up internet access, so I’ll check in as much as I can, but truthfully, I’m going to try and avoid Zee Internet as much as possible. I only see these amazing people every few months, and I’d much rather listen to their stories, try to capture memories, and just enjoy the time we have together.
Merry Christmas to everyone. I do hope you and yours have an amazing, safe, fun-filled holiday!
Three words best describe Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Lake effect snow.
I remember winter nights, cold, dark, and contemplative. Bundled up like a well stuffed sausage in the early twilight I would go out into the front yard where I built a snow fort. Hollowed out from the mountain of snow my Dad shoveled into a pile, the entrance was a small circle at the bottom facing the house with a peep hole at the top where I could look out into the street. It was like an igloo or a wolf’s den. When I climbed inside it was incredibly dark and quiet. The walls of snow glowed. Another world.
That’s where I waited for my Mom to come home from work.
My Mom worked at a funeral home. It was mysterious and creepy and normal. She managed the front office and was the first person you saw, the one you talked to when your mom died. So emotionally, the job was sometimes difficult for her. But my Mom was warm and friendly and empathetic, and everyone loved her.
I would stop by during the day when nothing was happening there and it would seem very casual. The maintenance guy and the director would be sitting in the office on the sofa or chair and they would all be laughing and telling jokes. Other times there would be a visitation going on and I would creep in walking across the cushy carpet unobtrusively, whispering to her in hushed tones, trying not to disturb the family mourning in the next room. More than once I came in the back way only to find a dead body on a gurney in the back hallway. I would feel my pupils shrink and stifle a gasp while the hair on my neck and arms rose away from my body as if it were growing faster from the shock.
But death is a part of life, and this became clear without any one ever telling me. Dead people are not ghosts. They don’t get up and walk around. The life and soul escapes them leaving behind an inanimate object no different than a rock or chair. They resemble people, but they’re not. They lie in a brass handled casket with their hands folded across their chest, quite different from the swarming, sobbing humanity that fills the room around them.
Eternal rest give unto them, O Lord
And let perpetual light shine upon them
Lord, have mercy
Christ, have mercy
Lord, have mercy
I could not touch their sorrow. It was like a precious crystal; something I stepped delicately around, lest the china in the hutch rattle and break. But my Mom touched it. All the time. Carefully, gently, she handled their sorrows, cradled them in her hands and heart.
When she came home from work in the winter twilight, walking through the snow that swirled in the street lights, I could see the weight of their sorrow on her. More people die in January than any other month. Her head bent, I would see the top of her beret, not her face. And I would think someone died today.
That’s when I would crawl out of my dark, silent den. I would walk toward her along the crunchy sidewalk and slip my mittened hand into her gloved one. She would look at me and give me a sad smile. Then together we would walk out of the darkness, up the front steps, and into our warm, little house. She would hang up the darkness and death with her coat and beret and enter into the light of the living.
This is a series?about my Mother’s death. This is part six, the final chapter. If you haven’t read them yet, here are parts one, two, three, four, and five.???
I drove out to the Chippewa County airport with my brother Bob. It was an intensely sunny and cold day. I checked on Todd’s flight at the desk and found out it was about to come in. There was only one worker in the whole place from what I could tell. Then he got up from the desk put on a hat, grabbed two bright orange spears and went out to the runway.
“Hey Bob, check it out. He’s flagging the airplane in by hand. How many different jobs do you think this guy has?” He shook his head and laughed.
“Ticket seller, ticket taker, security, air traffic control… Dude probably does it all.”
Todd was one of five people getting off the small twin engine plane. He looked worried, cold, in a hurry. His jacket was too thin.
“Hey brother!” I greeted him as he came into the dinky terminal. We gave each other a long hug. He bent down low to kiss my cheek, then turned to Bob. Their hand shake turned into an embrace.
Todd stomped his feet. “Holy shit, is it cold. It was 60 degrees when I got on the plane in Texas.”
“Welcome to 6 degrees,” said Bob with a laugh.
I felt suddenly uncomfortable with the news I had to deliver. I couldn’t do it there with the other people milling about. “Well,” I said, “let’s head out to the car. The sooner we get out of this place, the better.”
“Yeah,” said Todd with an anxious look. “Let’s get moving.”
We all put on our gloves and headed out into the bitter sunshine. I started the engine while the guys climbed in; Bob in the front passenger seat, Todd in the back seat. I stared at the steering wheel for a moment then looked over at Bob for help.
“Should we head straight for the hospital?” asked Todd. Neither one of us said anything. I felt the tears begin to well up in my eyes.
“Todd…” I began as I turned in my seat to look at him. He shook his head.
Bob tried, “Mom passed away this morning…”
I will never forget the sound he made.
“NOOOOOOOOO!” he wailed at the top of his lungs, filling the car with his anguish. “NOOOOOO–NOOOOOOOO–NOOOOOOO!” All three of us were sobbing at once. We put our arms around each other in an awkward three way hug. None of us could say anything for a long time. We sat like that hugging each other and crying. Three orphans mourning their mother. Finally Todd was able to speak.
“When? What time?” he asked.
“About four hours ago,” said Bob.
“No, No, No,” said Todd sobbing again. Another round of hugging and crying. When he was able to speak again he said, “I knew it. I knew it when I was flying in. I don’t know how I knew it, I just did. It was so cloudy over Chicago and lower Michigan. I was looking out the window and suddenly the clouds broke and there was sunlight radiating off of everything, blinding. That’s when I knew. I saw the outline of the UP below me and the sunlight breaking all around and I thought, ’she’s gone.’”
“We’re meeting Grampa and Dad at the funeral home in half an hour,” I said. “I can go straight there, if you want.” Todd nodded. I put the car in gear.
~
“My mom used to work here,” I said to the director as he lead us to a table.
“I know,” he said. “She was a woman of astonishing reputation.”
It made me start to cry again.
~
I started going through my mom’s wardrobe looking for something to bury her in. There were two dresses; the rest was all sweats and jeans. I distinctly heard her voice telling me, “I don’t want to be buried in a dress.” She actually said this to me several times. There was nothing to do but go shopping. I refused to put her in a dress and risk my immortal soul, and I just couldn’t do the blue jeans and sweatshirt thing. Maybe some people would, but I had to find something tasteful. I grabbed one of her bras for coverage, not bothering with the underwear. I knew they wouldn’t need that.
I headed up to JC Penney’s and found a white tuxedo blouse and a pair of black dress pants in her size. I graduated from high school with the woman working the check out. I had been up all night and I looked like hell. I wasn’t in the mood to make small talk with anyone, but there was no other check out open. I braced myself.
“Missy? Missy McKerroll?” she said as I put the clothes on the counter.
“Hi, Lori,” I said with a weak smile. “Good to see you.”
“Hey! It is you! Good to see you! Did you find everything okay?”
I nodded. I must have been giving off don’t talk to me vibes. She rang up my purchase without too much chit chat. We finished the transaction and she gave me a friendly, “Take care,” as I walked out of the store. It was quick.
~
After dropping the clothes off at the funeral home I went back to my parents house. I walked into my mom’s craft room with a large shopping bag. I began picking out things I liked; tole paintings, an afghan, the porcelain gramma and grampa dolls she had made. I found her graduation portrait and wedding picture and added them to my bag. Then I headed out the door again.
I parked in the back of the florist shop and went in through the back door.
“Can I help you?” asked a large woman in the back of the shop. I nodded.
“My mom died,” I said simply.
“I’m so sorry,” she said immediately. “I’ll be happy to help you with whatever you need. I’ve got some books that show different arrangements. Would you like to start there?”
“Actually,” I said lifting the bag to the counter, “I’d like to start here. My mom was sort of an artist. As a hobby. She made so many beautiful things. I thought maybe we could incorporate some of her work into floral arrangements.” I began pulling some of the tole paintings from the bag and the woman gasped.
“Your mom was Norie?” I felt tears again as I nodded.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I loved your mom. She was so wonderful. I’ve bought a few of her things. You know, she was still at the funeral home when I started working here, we used to talk on the phone all the time. She was such a beautiful lady.”
I reached for a tissue in my pocket, unable to speak.
She looked down at the things on the counter. “I love what you’ve chosen. The colors are wonderful. Let me take care of this. I can use these in a standing display. And these smaller ones in a casket spray. We can drape the afghan at the end. Why don’t you take the portraits and the dolls down to the funeral home yourself for them to set up, and I’ll handle the rest.”
“I want something that says, ‘Beloved Wife.’ Also, ‘Daughter,’ ‘Mother’ and ‘Grandmother.’”
“Yes, of course,” she said writing things down on a tablet.
I left her my information and went back to the funeral home to drop the other things off.
~
I walked out the front door of the funeral home into the blinding winter sunshine. It was 1:00 in the afternoon. I had been up 32 hours straight. I finally felt like I couldn’t cry anymore. Everything was done. All the plans were made. I thought I had done things the way she would have wanted. I thought I might finally be able to sleep.
Comin’ to me call me Stacy (Hey Stacy) <--- ahhh, that IS your name sweetheart.
I’m the F to the E, R, G the I the E
And can’t no other lady put it down like me <--- am I getting old? Because I have NO idea what this means.
[Hook]
I’m Fergalicious (so delicious)
My body stay vicious
I be up in the gym just working on my fitness <--- ha ha ha ha ha ha
He’s my witness (oooh wee)
I put yo’ boy on rock rock
And he be lining down the block just to watch what I got (four, tres, two, uno) <--- Why do I picture a soup kitchen here?
[Chorus]
So delicious (It’s hot, hot)
So delicious (I put them boys on rock, rock)
So delicious (they wanna taste of what I got)
I’m Fergalicious (hold hold hold hold hold up, check it out)
[Vamp]
Baby, baby, baby
If you really want me
Honey get some patience
Maybe then you’ll get a taste
I’ll be tasty, tasty, I’ll be laced with lacey <--- I’ll be laced with lacey? WTF?
It’s so tasty, tasty, It’ll make you crazy
[Will I Am]
T to the A to the S T E Y girl you tastey, T to the A to the S T E Y girl you tasty <--- Hey Will I Am, you can’t spell worth a shit, dude.
D to the E to the L I C I O U S, D to the E to the, to the, to the, hit it Fergie
[Fergie]
All the time I turn around brotha’s gather round always looking at me up and down looking at my
(uuhh)
I just wanna say it now I ain’t tryin to round up drama little mama I don’t wanna take your man
And I know I’m comin off just a little bit conceited and I keep on repeating how the boys wanna eat it <--- You PEED yourself on stage. I’m pretty sure this line could have been something else, honey.
But I’m tryin’ to tell, that I can’t be treated like clientel <--- clinetel? of what? The Whore Department?
Cuz’ they say she
[Hook]
Delicious (So delicious)
But I ain’t promiscuous
And if you was suspicious
All that shit is fictitious
I blow kisses (mmmwwahhh)
That puts them boys on rock, rock
And they be lining down the block just to watch what I got (got, got, got)
Four, tres, two, uno
[Chorus]
It’s so delicious (aye, aye, aye, aye)
So delicious (aye, aye, aye, aye)
So delicious (aye, aye, aye, aye)
I’m Fergalicious, t-t-t-t-t-tastey tastey
[Will I Am]
T to the A, to the S T E Y girl you tasty,
T to the A, to the S T E Y girl you tasty
T to the A, to the S T E Y girl you tasty,
T to the A, to the, to the, to the, to the (four, tres, two, uno)
To the D to the E to the L I C I O U S,
to the D to the E to the L I C I O U S,
to the D to the E to the L I C I O U S,
to the D to the E to the, to the, to the, to the, to the (four, tres, two, uno)
This is the crap the Big Record Companies are throwing at us? Are they high? Did Paris Hilton write these lyrics? Well it all rhymes, so maybe they got a really smart monkey to do it.
There are a lot of things going on here, besides the pre-Christmas rush, and while I have no time to breathe, much less blog, I have to at least share this little story from the grocery store on Friday afternoon.
The kids and I were killing time before we had to get Daren from school, so we wandered through the Great Canadian Superstore (read: huge mothereffing supermarket to the power of twenty hundred). Once at the self-serve checkouts, Dylan said he was hungry so I let him walk 4 feet to the nearest aisle, which happened to be snacky-type stuff.
When he came back, his eyes were wide and panicked. “Some weird lady just asked me if I had DIED!”
“What? Who?”
“A lady with frizzy hair asked me if I had DIED MOM! Why would she say that?”
I tried not to panic. “I don’t know, honey. You stay with me. Do you see her now?”
“She went that way,” he said, pointing.
“But you don’t see her?”
“No.”
I scanned through our items and bagged them. I kept looking at Dylan. He seemed okay, though shaken.
Once we got across from the checkouts to leave, I asked him again if he saw her.
“There she is!” he pointed.
My heart was pounding. I hate confrontation, but this is my child, and I had to know what this crazy woman was thinking, saying such an awful thing.
I approached her, put on my best bitch face, and Dylan stayed behind me. “Excuse me?”
She turned.
“Did you say something to my son?”
She looked at him and her mouth opened in surprise.
She covered her open mouth with one hand as realization came over her face. “Oh my God,” she started, “He was staring at all those treats and I asked him if he had died and gone to heaven.”
We both started to laugh.
“Well it sounded a lot creepier the way he told it,” I laughed, “He isn’t familiar with the expression.”
We stood and talked for a minute, and she apologized about 64 times for scaring him. Dylan and I wished her a Merry Christmas and she did the same.
As we left the store, Dylan learned what ‘died and gone to heaven’ meant and we had a good laugh too.
