Surreal, Part 1**

 

 

 

I started an entry recording the surreal events of the last week. Windows decided it needed to restart. I told it to fuck off. It agreed but not before force closing Firefox and thus erasing a half hour’s worth of text. OD saved the first paragraph.  I’ll try again in Word but I have a feeling those first memories will be severally clipped.

Friday

My mother called early to tell me that Mamaw wasn’t doing well. If I wanted to say ‘goodbye’ I should probably book a flight. We thought Tues-Sat would work the best all around. I was busy so I couldn’t look at tickets till lunch. She called again just as I was leaving to eat to say that Tuesday wouldn’t work. Things were going downhill fast and I’d be better off leaving the next day. I booked the first flight out for a Sat-Thurs trip. Arranged coverage for the following week while Zac found someone to take care of our animals. He couldn’t come with me because of his work. He was going to be gone to far corner of Wyoming.

Saturday

I woke up just after midnight mountain time to a phone call from Mom. She was gone. Mamaw had passed an hour or so before. Hysterical doesn’t quite cover my reaction. It felt surreal. Let me go ahead an apologize for the redudant usage of "surreal" because as  I recount the week it will likely be the only word that seems to fit each individual moment.
She had been so close to death so many times over the course of the last decade. I didn’t even truly take it seriously. In my mind, she would bounce back as always. But she didn’t, not this time.

I cried for close to an hour while Zac did what he could to console me. Finally crying gave way to talking and before long I realized we were talking about happier things. I didn’t want to sleep so we talked. I didn’t want to wake up and remember that she had died.
Showered, dresssed, and said ‘bye’ to my husband and pets after a few hours sleep. I called my cousin De and listened to her excuses to not come. I felt bitter in spite of myself.

At the airport I ordered food that I didn’t want in an effort to stay true to a promise I’d made Zac: that I would eat whether I felt like it or not. I had half a wrap and cried over the rest, facing the wall to avoid being looked at.

On the flights I listened to my hypnobirthing tracks and slept. Hours later I was sitting in a recliner in the room that both my grandparents had died in. As soon as the funeral home had came to collect her, my mother had dismantled the hopsital bed that had dominated the living room for so many years. It looked empty. And it was painful looking at her houseshoes and cane, still stuck to the side waiting to be used.

That night was hard. The house was bustling and the smells and noise grated on my nerves. I had a cold on top of everything so I felt suffocated. Finally, people wandered off to sleep and I did the same, sleeping in the recliner in the living room while my mom slept on the couch.

Mom talked in her sleep, waking up to react to an unseen catalyst. Once she thought I was the hopsice nurse and apologized for dozing off. Then she knew it was me in the room but thought Mamaw was still alive, telling me that if I got down close to her face she’d be able to hear me. "She’s asked for you ever since she got sick."

Finally we both slept but fitfully.

Sunday

Mom told me about the night she died. She’d been in and out of consciousness for a few days. Fluid was building up in her lungs and she kept trying to cough it up. When she’d cough they’d sit her up and Mom would suction it out. The house had been full of people. My uncles, my grandmother’s sisters, the preacher from her church. They had sang with her and prayed with her. Mom had sent them all away around midnight promising to call if anything changed. My mom, my sister (Arielle) and my uncle’s wife (Barbara) stayed behind to do the necessaries to care for her.

Sometime after 1am she started coughing. They sat her up and Mom grabbed the suction but it looked like she’d recovered. Mom asked for them to give her just a minute. Then she took in a breath….and stopped. No more breaths. Mom felt for a pulse and found none. She was gone.

They called everyone back. Barbara’s 17 year old daughter, Meagan, came over and helped them clean her up. My mom is very medieval in that if it were up to her we would have done it all the old way. She still did as much as she could legally get away with that way.

She asked the hospice nurse not to let them take the body right away and she very kindly agreed. Mom, Arielle, Barbara and Meagan undressed her and washed her. Then they redressed in her a clean night gown. Mom got to say her goodbyes that way, personally and in her own home. She never saw Mamaw again.

The funeral home took the body around 8am. Mom refused to go to the funeral. I don’t blame her.
—
I didn’t want to go to the funeral myself. That morning Meagan was supposed to get up early to fix Mamaw’s hair and makeup but didn’t. Mom was too exhausted to force her so she called the funeral home and had them find someone. A set of rings was picked out for her to wear. I took them to the funeral home myself just before the viewing was scheduled.

The viewing was hard. She did look really good. I hate when people say that usually but she did. Someone, I think her sister Cleva, had them put a silver cross on her. It was pretty but it kept falling back down to her face so I kept fixing it. My aunt Cleva stayed next to the coffin the whole time. She didn’t sit down till they told us it was time for the graveside service. It was like she couldn’t stand to walk away from her.

My uncle Stanley (my grandmother’s favorite child who is on hospice himself) had to be helped in by his brother and wife. Then helped back out. I’ve never seen him so despondent. He barely reacted when Papaw died.
It was hard. Part of me didn’t want to leave, like as long as we kept her in that room she was still with us somehow.
Lainea rode with me to the graveside. My sister broke down there. I heard her bawling hysterically almost as soon as I got out of the car. Me, Lainea and my cousin Tabitha stayed with her, trying to find a way to give her comfort. The preacher talked and then fell into a sermon. That’s the part I always hate.

We found a way to laugh though. A beagle, probably from one of the nearby houses, walked through the crowd. "Mamaw hated beagles," I said under my breath sending the ones in ear shot into giggles. It was a happy sight – a friendly little dog walking through the people looking for some attention. My uncle Mike petted on him before the dog wandered off to scratch his back on the grass.

The sermon continued. I leaned over to Lainea and told her to imagine the preacher, using that same tone of voice, trying to sell us a time share. That kept us entertained for most of the rest of it. Then Lainea’s dad and his band sang.
I had noticed earlier that one of my cousins was holding a bunch of colorful balloons. I wondered why but couldn’t think of anything that made sense.

Then one my mamaw’s sisters spoke up. She said that once when she was talking to Mamaw about funerals and all that, Mamaw had said she didn’t want "a bunch of crying and snotting". Instead she wanted us to get a big bunch of balloons and watch them float off while we sang "I’ll Fly Away".

Faye honored her wish. Her daughter handed them and Lainea’s dad started back up with "I’ll Fly Away". Then one by one we let them go and watched them float off into the sky. It was truly beautiful – one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my life. Lainea and Arielle said they made an "H" in the sky. I didn’t make one out but it was still a nice thought.

I don’t know if you’ve ever heard that song, "I’ll Fly Away". I’m not religious though I do enjoy some gospel music. It’s pretty and brings back memories from my childhood. That one is my favorite. It’s a song about being happy about dying, about being ready for heaving. "One glad morning when this life is over, I’ll fly away."

In the end I was glad that I went despite being so reluctant. The sermon was what I expected but there was some closure in letting that balloon go. It was symbolic in a way. For some reason one of the balloons didn’t float away. My cousin Heather gave it to me. I deflated yesterday and laid in in my suitcase. Some day I’ll put it in a scrapbook.

After the funeral, Lainea and I had dinner at Pizza Inn. From there I went to Zac’s parents’ house to visit and watch the Formula One race.

Then back to Mamaw/Mom’s for the night. It was a long, hard day.

Monday

After Mom and I got up we started the task of notifying all the financial institutions that needed to know. I called all her credit card companies, social security, and the company that held my papaw’s pension. I also called Delta to change my mom’s flights. She was supposed to come to Utah this week so we could spend some time together. I moved that flight to July near my due date.

From there I went to Kingsport and met my dad for lunch. We talked about finances and what all he went through when his parents died last year. He gave me a birthday card with $500 in it – some to help with the trip and some to buy stuff for the baby. It was a nice gesture.

I spent the rest of the night with my uncle Mike and his wife Jen. He’s the favorite of my uncles. We’ve always been more like a brother and sister. He’s not that much older than me (13 years, I think) and we spent a lot of time growing up in the same house. It was hard on him, losing his mom.

He’s the most emotional of all of us, the only one of us that cries freely without trying to hold it in. But we tried to make it a happy time. We went out for dinner then breakfast the next morning. We joked and tried to tell stories of happier times. I love that. I love the things that other people remember that make your own memory that much more rich and full.

The bombing happened that day. My uncle’s phone beeped with a news alert just as I walked in his door. Minutes later, Zac called to tell me about it as he’d heard it on the radio. Surreal.

I may have to finish the rest of this later. I’m at Panera Bread mooching their wifi while I’m waiting to leave for the airport. My time is running out though. I need to head that way. A lot of this is just for record: this happened, then this happened…so that I’ll remember it later. There’s a lot I feel I haven’t even had time to reflect upon and so much has happened it’s hard to get it all down. Hopefully, OD will cooperate and I’ll get this posted.

Hopefully, I’ll come back later to finish it.