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
i am a vivid dreamer. i always have been, except maybe during times of distress. in college i kept a journal next to my bed, so upon waking, i could groggily recount the images that occupied my subconscious. and now, if you ever run across tweets that don’t particularly make any sense, chances are they’re snippets of a dream. or, sissy and i are running amok. either/or.
since returning to san francisco after dad’s funeral, my dream patterns have changed somewhat. the nightly images are as prevalent as ever; however, i can’t recall specific details or story lines. and what’s more, dad or the topic of his death has been in every. single. dream. since coming home. that’s a little over two weeks’ worth of nights hazily occupied by dad’s presence. not that i mind, but i wish i could remember more. i want his appearance to be more vivid.
last night, though, there was a slight break in this trend: mom and i needed to move a red coleman cooler and pull in some rope after a picnic. this was either before or after the news of michael jackson’s death. he died on the same day as my dad. i looked up to the skies and said:
“daddy, make sure you get a seat on the bus next to michael jackson.”
the end.
16 July 2010
