Comments on: remembrance, part I

By: Beth

Beth — Tue, 26 Jul 2005 21:01:00 +0000

Thank you for your story. It never get easier, at least is doesn’t for me. In my family I am the taker of “the Call”. For each grandparent (starting at age 10, 11, 13, then 24) each uncle, cousin, friend, I was the one who had to pass the news along to the respective parties.

When I received “the call” for my mother, it was 5AM, and I knew. My husband (Xpatriated Texan) lying next to me grappled for the phone, and I gently extricated from his hands. Mom was in a nursing home for almost 8 years with senile dementia (unproven Alzheimer

By: Revmom

Revmom — Mon, 25 Jul 2005 15:38:00 +0000

I have a story about the WG and my beloved Grandmother missing each other on this earth by about 16 days. It has a limited audience because to tell it, I have to (very briefly and tastefully) talk about WG’s conception for the story to make sense.

People get squirmy.

By: spookyrach

spookyrach — Mon, 25 Jul 2005 01:12:00 +0000

I always love your writing. Thanks.

By: anne

anne — Mon, 25 Jul 2005 00:44:00 +0000

i was 8 months pregnant when bob’s mom died. when we got the phone call we didn’t know whether she had actually died or not. bob left and went to the hospital where she had been taken. i stayed home and vacuumed the house and cried and cried. i think our older 2 kids (ages 1 and 3) must have been napping because i don’t see them in the picture. somehow i thought it was important to have the house clean if grammy had died.

i had already bought cards to use as birth announcements for baby 3—with rainbows on the front. i’d already written some of the info inside by hand (leaving out the part about name, size, date, etc. until later.) then the next day after grammy died there was the most beautiful double rainbow in the sky. it seemed to be a personal message that grammy had already placed a blessing on dawn’s life. (even though we had yet to meet dawn, we felt like grammy had already met her and told her the most important things.)

thanks for this posting which reminded me of the congruence of life and death superimposed on one another.

By: Friday Mom

Friday Mom — Sun, 24 Jul 2005 22:12:00 +0000

(o)

By: reverendmother

reverendmother — Sun, 24 Jul 2005 19:09:00 +0000

Right, Matthew, and what I didn’t put in the essay, maybe I’ll revise it someday, is that Dad and K were just sitting there watching Everybody Loves Raymond, of all things, when it happened. I can’t imagine that dreadful scene going down with that disgusting canned/studio audience laughter in the background. Not to mention whatever garish commercials were on at the time.

Mamala, you’ve definitely nailed the downside–day after day of wishing for relief. On the other hand, you have a chance to say everything you would like to say.

Eh, like I said, neither way is exactly fun.

By: Matthew

Matthew — Sun, 24 Jul 2005 17:25:00 +0000

While everything was going down, Anya and I had just purchased a new surround sound system for her television, and had just settled down to “test it out” with my favorite James Bond movie “Tomorrow Never Dies,” which as I type this seems a tad bit eerie, not only because of the title of the movie, but because the Bond franchise was dad’s favorite series of movies. The phone rang once and we paid it no mind. The phone rang a second time about 2 minutes later, and a tenth of my mind was wondering what was going on. By the time the third rang came, a knock came on the door from a friend who was trying to get me to call my brother who lived a mere mile away.

The rest is of the night…well, it is what it is. Seems like a blur now. It must have been really hard on my brother to tell me the news, but of all the people who told me, I’m most glad it was him and that we were able to talk in person. I’m also glad that I was able to talk with all of my siblings that night, and that the familiar bonds I was hoping to feel translated well through fiberoptic telephone lines.

One of the hardest things about this whole thing is that I often times just have random images pop in my head of how scary it must have been for both Karen and dad, and I sometimes even have horrible premonitions of what it all must have looked and felt like to a third party observer. I’m not sure what that’s all about, but I wish that was one thing I was able to turn off forever.

I have to agree with the sudden death being a lot harder. It’s the out of the blueness that really just bugs me. The Rolling Stones said it best when they wrote “You can’t always get what you want/but if you try sometimes you find, you get what you need.” Well, I don’t feel like I’ve gotten either. I wanted and needed just a moment to say farewell and that I loved him. Life and death can be a total bitch sometimes.

By: Kathryn

Kathryn — Sun, 24 Jul 2005 12:53:00 +0000

I slept in the next room the night when my mother died…I had no idea till I took in her breakfast next morning. I hope she wasn’t afraid.

While my father died, I was revising for my A levels.

It was good to be there with my father-in-law, to watch him gently let go and relax into the Love that was waiting for him…

Blessings on all who watch loved ones move on, and on those who carry regret that they weren’t there, or weren’t ready.

I shared a holy place with my parents this morning, while celebrating the Eucharist: it completely blows me away, how very close the whole communion of saints seems to be when I say those words.

By: xpatriated texan

xpatriated texan — Sun, 24 Jul 2005 08:35:00 +0000

You got me thinking about what I was doing when various people in my life died.

Pa Harrel - watching “rasslin’” with my brothers - I was seven

Dad - was getting ready for dinner

Curtis - tending the hogs

Fred - watching him slip away like I had for the last month

Both Grandpa’s - away in the Navy. In Boot Camp in one case and in Nuke School for the other.

Matthew - trying to get another five minutes of sleep and ignored the phone

Granny - don’t remember

Bill - don’t remember

Martha - don’t remember

In my experience, death is more usually an unexpected thing. Even in Fred’s case, where I’d watched his declining health for the better part of two years, it was unexpected, though anticipated (if that makes sense). Life, it seems, conspires to hide from us our last chance to set things right and say good-bye all too often.

Perhaps it’s best that it does so. Perhaps not. Death can be a blessing, just as it is a curse. I watched a friend nurse his wife through her end from intestinal cancer. It was most definitely a blessing for his family.

My father-in-law had heart surgery recently - and at least four of the people on the list above could have had several more years if they’d had that procedure. However, my father-in-law’s greatest fear now is that his body will outlive his mind and he’ll degenerate into an empty husk. My one remaining grandparent has already gone that path. There are many ways to die, and some of them leave a beating heart long afterwards.

You’re right, though. Regardless of how they pass, there’s no slow motion, no merciful flashes of grand memories. There’s only the heart-wrenching gut-burning loss that nothing ever fills.

Life continues. Both in our bodies - and in the body within your body.

God Bless.

By: rev mommy

rev mommy — Sun, 24 Jul 2005 06:12:00 +0000

For me, I was 33 weeks pregnant and on forced bedrest — my inlaws had come to help watch over myself and my toddler and my husband. I was given a reprieve and was allowed to go to a movie — “Twister.” We had cut off our cell phones and when we left the theatre, they both started blinking red. My husband’s grandmother had choked to death on a piece of meat cooked by her daughter — my husband’s mother. On Mother’s day. My 3 year old witnessed the entire event from a high chair and dreams about it still. My little on was born a week later, premature from the stress.

Somehow all these things have become twisted in my mind — bites of steak, tornados, pregnancy and death.

I hate those calls deep into the night.