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orikesIt's been a weird week. I head back to work tomorrow, and while part of me really doesn't want to go, I think I need the routine to get my life back on track.
It all seemed so surreal. On Monday night, my father, brother and I had dinner at my aunt and uncle's house. My cousin and her family had come into town for the funeral, as well as my mother's best friend. A local cousin and some other family friends joined us. I kept expecting to turn a corner and go into the kitchen to find my mother out there chatting and gossiping. It was like there was a missing piece of the puzzle.
Of course, that hadn't been reality in seven years. Not since the divorce. It wasn't long after that point that her health started going downhill. About ten months after the divorce was the urinary tract infection that put her in the ICU for four days. Six months after that, she fell and busted up her hand. Another six months after that she fell and broke her shoulder and we realized something was wrong. That's when she was diagnosed with Parkinsons that wasn't actually Parkinsons. A few months over two years ago she ended up in the hospital with some mystery ailment that turned out to be a heart problem. Almost exactly two years ago she went in for open heart surgery and they replaced a heart valve. She recovered from the surgery, but never really did what she needed to so she could improve and regain her life back. In some ways, I think she just gave up about six years ago.
The logical part of my brain tells me that there's nothing I could have done to change her. Even if I'd been in a place where I could be there for her 24/7, it wasn't my job to become my mother's babysitter. Of course, logic only plays a small role in the thought process during a time like this. I wish I had tried harder to get through to her, to get her to take better care of herself.
One of the real hard parts has been dealing with her stuff. She had lots of *stuff*. It's probably a good thing she didn't have a whole house any longer and it's just an apartment I have to deal with. Either way, my mother liked her stuff. She had two curio cabinets filled with elephants. As a rough guess, I would say she probably had close to 300-400 elephants between the two curio cabinets and other places in the house. This doesn't even get into the five totes that are normally filled with Christmas decorations, but are currently filled with the stuff that's normally out in the living room.
The elephants themselves have been the source of some minor drama. One uncle said he heard my mother give them to another uncle. The other uncle didn't know what he was talking about. Yet another uncle said the other uncle had tricked my mother into giving him the elephants and was just going to turn around and sell them. When I put my foot down and told them I'd figure out what to do with the elephants, the first uncle told me that I should keep the elephants together as a complete collection. I just gave him a look and asked him if he had a place in his house for 400 elephants. He backed down after that. As it stands right now, anyone who wants an elephant to remember my mother by can have one. My brother took the ones he wanted and I made sure I got the couple I wanted to remember her by. The rest will find other homes.
Then there's the china. The third uncle told me that he'd told his daughter that she could have the china.. if I didn't want it. Oy. Of course I want my mother's china. I think it was actually my grandmother's china. So I'm made to feel like the bad guy for wanting something I'd been told my entire life was to come to me.
The person I feel sorriest for right now is my father. It was so hard watching him the days leading up to the funeral and at the funeral itself. A friend of mine told me that her heart just about broke when she hugged my father. She said it was as if he was just radiating sadness and grief. Even though they were divorced seven years ago, I don't think he ever stopped loving her. He just couldn't live with her anymore. Looking back, I can see how unhappy and unhealthy a situation it was for him. So much regret, so many 'what ifs'.
Ah well, I'm getting maudlin. Even if it's a cliché, life does go on. I want to thank everyone who's passed along their sympathy and their well wishes. I really do appreciate it even if I haven't said it. Thank you.
It all seemed so surreal. On Monday night, my father, brother and I had dinner at my aunt and uncle's house. My cousin and her family had come into town for the funeral, as well as my mother's best friend. A local cousin and some other family friends joined us. I kept expecting to turn a corner and go into the kitchen to find my mother out there chatting and gossiping. It was like there was a missing piece of the puzzle.
Of course, that hadn't been reality in seven years. Not since the divorce. It wasn't long after that point that her health started going downhill. About ten months after the divorce was the urinary tract infection that put her in the ICU for four days. Six months after that, she fell and busted up her hand. Another six months after that she fell and broke her shoulder and we realized something was wrong. That's when she was diagnosed with Parkinsons that wasn't actually Parkinsons. A few months over two years ago she ended up in the hospital with some mystery ailment that turned out to be a heart problem. Almost exactly two years ago she went in for open heart surgery and they replaced a heart valve. She recovered from the surgery, but never really did what she needed to so she could improve and regain her life back. In some ways, I think she just gave up about six years ago.
The logical part of my brain tells me that there's nothing I could have done to change her. Even if I'd been in a place where I could be there for her 24/7, it wasn't my job to become my mother's babysitter. Of course, logic only plays a small role in the thought process during a time like this. I wish I had tried harder to get through to her, to get her to take better care of herself.
One of the real hard parts has been dealing with her stuff. She had lots of *stuff*. It's probably a good thing she didn't have a whole house any longer and it's just an apartment I have to deal with. Either way, my mother liked her stuff. She had two curio cabinets filled with elephants. As a rough guess, I would say she probably had close to 300-400 elephants between the two curio cabinets and other places in the house. This doesn't even get into the five totes that are normally filled with Christmas decorations, but are currently filled with the stuff that's normally out in the living room.
The elephants themselves have been the source of some minor drama. One uncle said he heard my mother give them to another uncle. The other uncle didn't know what he was talking about. Yet another uncle said the other uncle had tricked my mother into giving him the elephants and was just going to turn around and sell them. When I put my foot down and told them I'd figure out what to do with the elephants, the first uncle told me that I should keep the elephants together as a complete collection. I just gave him a look and asked him if he had a place in his house for 400 elephants. He backed down after that. As it stands right now, anyone who wants an elephant to remember my mother by can have one. My brother took the ones he wanted and I made sure I got the couple I wanted to remember her by. The rest will find other homes.
Then there's the china. The third uncle told me that he'd told his daughter that she could have the china.. if I didn't want it. Oy. Of course I want my mother's china. I think it was actually my grandmother's china. So I'm made to feel like the bad guy for wanting something I'd been told my entire life was to come to me.
The person I feel sorriest for right now is my father. It was so hard watching him the days leading up to the funeral and at the funeral itself. A friend of mine told me that her heart just about broke when she hugged my father. She said it was as if he was just radiating sadness and grief. Even though they were divorced seven years ago, I don't think he ever stopped loving her. He just couldn't live with her anymore. Looking back, I can see how unhappy and unhealthy a situation it was for him. So much regret, so many 'what ifs'.
Ah well, I'm getting maudlin. Even if it's a cliché, life does go on. I want to thank everyone who's passed along their sympathy and their well wishes. I really do appreciate it even if I haven't said it. Thank you.
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(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-13 07:47 am (UTC)Death is so messy and hard. And people can be so difficult. My Christmas was pretty much ruined by a "who is supposed to have what" fight.
Be kind to yourself. It sounds as though you have a pretty good grasp of what's important (your father, memories, love) and what isn't (squabbling, keeping a collection of 400 elephants intact.)
I'm not at all a huggy person--no kidding, Cecil's standoffishness comes from somewhere, and it's me--but your big heart comes through in your writing and in your commentary all the time. So you can bet that if I could, I would. Meanwhile, you have my thoughts and my sympathy.
PB