i fear that the original emotion i had tied to this entry has lost potency as time passed. and without putting myself back in that frame of mind, without undoing some of the healing process, i still crave written documentation on the matter.
dad’s physical presence ceases to exist. his body, the mere vehicle for something transcendent, is literally gone. it’s that simple.
not too long before dad fell into his poorest health, he confirmed with father bill that cremation was a perfectly legitimate burial rite in the eyes of the catholic church. it used to not be, but catholicism is reforming its ways in some aspects. other than financial, i’m not sure what his or mom’s reasons are for requesting cremation, but i know it’s something that i’ve wanted for myself as well. my affinity for the ocean lends itself to having at least a portion of my remains spread across the waves. for memorial purposes, though, having a headstone shared with my one and only will still be in order.
but these ashes, and pardon the slight gruesomeness, mixed with bits of bone; the body that is no more. without question, the whole concept is quite peculiar and unreal.
the funeral home hands over a black plastic box with a bag of dust inside. depending on your tastes and monetary preference, a more ornate encasement can be requested. the family of the deceased can even order lockets and other adornments filled with some of the ashes. to all of us, this idea bordered on creepy and was quickly dismissed. the standard-issue box would suffice since it would be nestled in the ground anyway. we did reserve some of his remains to spread over skamperville. a close buddy of his had designated a few spots for dad, and we knew he wanted it that way. skamperville was his vacation home of sorts; he could now follow in my footsteps and live like he was always on vacation.
but really, think about this. a plastic box. a bag of ashes. i truly did not have a dad anymore. nothing solidified this fact more than that damn box. naz reminded me, though, that i will always have a dad. his body was not of importance. his physical being had grown weary and sick, and it simply could not handle the rigors of the cancer and the subsequent treatments. he had withered down to a paltry 130 or so pounds; his body wasn’t really his own anymore. and despite his body expiring, it wouldn’t erase his memory or the lessons he instilled or the laughter he invoked.
naz is right. cremation can’t take away what i know of my father. in my mind, he’s still just out gassing up the truck and grabbing a pack of smokes anyway.
02 August 2010
two nights ago, grandma drew her final breath. it wasn’t unexpected given her sudden onslaught of health issues, although none could be pinpointed as the main cause of her death. age certainly wasn’t on her side either; being 91 years old isn’t optimal for pursuing treatment. but moreover, she didn’t want the tests and poking and prodding and diagnoses anyway. nor did mom and her sisters. she led a good, full life, and in the end, she knew it was her time to go.
some of grandma’s last words to mom were of reserved regret. it should have been her a month ago instead of dad. why couldn’t she trade places? i find such rhetoric is often spoken during quiet moments of resignation, in attempt to extend a final line of solace. and as comforting as it may be to entertain the what ifs, the reality remains that negotiations of one life for another simply aren’t an option.
so yet again, mom and her sisters find themselves at the funeral home where three other relatives have been laid out before her in recent weeks. thankfully, grandma paid for her funeral and cemetery plot in advance, so little needed to be done in the way of preparation, save for some smaller details of the service and obituary. and in fact, even her name had been etched years ago on the shared headstone; her husband waits for her there.
as the phone calls and text messages flew this week, awaiting the impending news, i told mom she needed a vacation. we all need a vacation. i even suggested that all the ladies of her side of the family should come to san francisco for a getaway once everything is said and done. and now, it’s becoming a distinct possibility.
though as fun as it will be to experience familial capers in the city, in the back of my mind i’m reminded that dad was never able to make the journey out west. he would have loved the colorful people and the copious amounts of food options and the tourist traps on the embarcadero where he could buy crap trinkets and souvenirs. what’s more is he would have taken great pride in seeing his daughter, son-in-law, and fur-grandchildren living it up in this amazing environment, continuing to live life like they’re always on vacation.
but the real scenario is we only had been in california for a couple of months when he had his tracheostomy surgery. and once we realized the maintenance entailed in keeping the trach clean and with the regular visits to the doctor, getting on a plane for future travel quickly dissolved. visions of having the family out for a west coast christmas evaporated. my attempt at new family rituals understandably took a backseat as dad’s health became the number one concern. naz and i would continue to accommodate any holiday travel and other visits home. honestly, it didn’t matter to me where we were anyway, as long as we were able to spend quality time together.
with dad gone and his suffering ended, i hope to resurrect the plans of an occasional holiday spent here in san francisco. i want mom in particular to live the life she put on hold while caring for dad. it’s not to say i wouldn’t have liked for dad to share in these experiences. quite to the contrary. but sadly, the initial plans didn’t align with the unfortunate sequence of events. rarely do intentions go as planned anyway. undoubtedly, though, dad will be with us. he’ll be in the headlands. he’ll be in the hills of wine country. he’ll be on the shore of the pacific. he’ll be hanging off the side of a trolley chugging up california street. and he’ll be laughing the entire way, with true contentment and joy in his heart.
23 July 2010
a month ago today, dad passed away. the jury’s still out on whether or not it actually feels like thirty days have gone by or if it still seems like yesterday that i was standing by his bedside. whatever the case, the time period has been dense; i, and those close to me, have lived a lot of life in a short amount of time.
what a month can hold (in contrast to several years):
a great aunt died while i was still in the midwest, so of course we attended her visitation. four days after my father was laid out, at the same funeral home.
mom’s car was temporarily impaired with a broken fuel pump during our run of errands. we were thankful that we were merely stranded at city hall in town rather than out at the airport in st. louis.
shortly after i returned to SF, my godmother’s brother died. again, another family member using the services of renner funeral home in belleville.
mom had the unfortunate experience of dealing with a less-than-competent life insurance representative. sure, punctuality is nice, but two hours ahead of an appointment is excessive. and then to not know any answers? unacceptable.
sissy moved back to bloomington for her upcoming semester in college. and then fell up down the stairs. a bruise supposedly in the shape of australia adorned her leg.
not yet able to enjoy an evening in her new home, sissy encountered the maddening side effects of being an adult. in this case, a dead car battery, two tow trucks, and a closed walmart.
mom returned to work and continued to tackle a mountain of post-death obligations.
naz and i paid our quarterly taxes, albeit late, and filed other necessary paperwork, ahead of schedule. yay?
naz busted up a wheel, a shifter, and flatted a tire. no, he wasn’t injured during any of this.
i lost a few more pounds. then gained half of them back. it seems i didn’t consume much while i was back in southern illinois, but i eat like a mad woman here in SF. imagine that.
a few movies have been seen; several dinners have been had; numerous phone calls and texts have been exchanged.
naz and i daydreamed about key west and almost spontaneously bought tickets and booked a hotel. then we didn’t.
we did, however, go to the sonoma/napa region and fell in love with the cuteness that is yountville (a la key west).
mom burned up the lawnmower. expletives flew; the tears welled.
grandma’s (mom’s mom) possessions, as few as she has these days, had been removed from her apartment in preparation for her admission into a nursing home.
instead, grandma is now in the hospital and on a morphine drip, possibly on her final days as well.
and i haven’t even included some of the mayhem happening on my dad’s side of the family.
2010 has been one helluva ride thus far—though i refuse to classify all this as bad luck. this is merely how life rolls. i walk a fine line of pessimism and optimism, but i’m keeping my fingers crossed that the remainder of the year proves a little more upbeat.
lottery winnings, anyone?
20 July 2010
