My Mother’s Death, The Final Chapter
December 20, 2006
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.
~Missy
January 9th, 2007 at 3:03 am
Your mother sounds like such a beautiful woman. Do you ever post her artwork on your site? I’d like to see it.