Phew, that's over with!

I had my birthday and deliberately made it LOW KEY.  I didn't want to feel like crying in public, so I organized a brunch, hung at the pool, and then a low key movie and dinner out.

I MADE it through!

And, now, 3 weeks later, I've finally arrived at a Sunday and I don't feel like a total sack of sadness.

I have this to-do list, and it's major major major stuff.  Like, my phone isn't working--so maybe get a new one?  My Prius headlight isn't working--so get that repaired?  I need to find and go to the dentist.  I need to take and pass my drivers license test.  I need to get a bike rack on my new-to-me used bike.  I need to find a job.  I need to re-hang my big ass tv. I need to hang pictures and finish unpacking. I need to meditate. I need to socialize more or less, depending on the time of day.  I need to sleep better. I need to workout. I need to get Pickle to the cardiologist or she might die.  I need to start sending more postcards and birthday cards. I need to register to vote. I need to do my budget. I need to find a job. I need to write more, read more, watch tv more.

And, I'm heading home to Elyria in a few weeks to chip in with the process of cleaning out my mother's stuff.  So, that's sort of like a great big lurking shadow.

So, this is all weighing on my brain.  Spiraling when I get anxious.  I have to-do lists in every room of my apartment.

But, then, this week, I went to the oncologist with Andy.  He's been dealing with his own cancer diagnosis, and for the most part, I've been with him at the surgery, and all the appointments except one meeting.  This was the first meeting with an oncologist (as opposed to the urologist), so we walked into a hematology/oncology service.  There were directional sign stickers on the floor, and we both laughed and stood exactly where it told us to.  I love following directions!  And then, in comes an older gentleman, on a cane, with his younger cancer companion (I assumed it was his daughter).  She had a boot cast, and the two of them were hot and bothered from the heat, and I told them they were a matched set (he on cane, her on boot).

And then, I remembered going to my mom's chemo appointment (I only went to one, she had 12) and how friendly she was, and how she'd be kind, nice, and put on her big smile.  And I thought of everyone around me, including my dear, sweetest, like a brother to me best friend Andy, and how it was sad, and some of these people won't make it, and maybe, like my mom, they'll beat the cancer but the treatment will kill them.  And I decided not to cry, but to yuck it up with Andy.

We got in the room with the doc, and discussed his diagnosis (I took notes and typed them up later like a good little student!) and I was fine, even though I kept thinking of my mom's oncologist.  But, Andy and I, being midwestern, kept on smiling and asking questions and he has 3 options for treatment.  One is wait and watch, one is a surgery and a third is chemo.  Well, the doctor goes on to describe the chemo and it's FUCKING one of the drugs that my mom took, and in my mind, is like the bullet that killed her.

So, I did put on a smile, and I did burst into tears and I grabbed Andy's hand, and I said to myself "This is not about you.  This is for Andy".  So, I pulled my shit together, and celebrated that he was going to be ok.  We mostly knew this, but he will be OKAY and the Keto diet isn't an effective treatment for his condition. This is all REALLY good news for Andy and John!

And I walked home and typed up the oncologist notes and did additional research to find other sources,  like a good girl, sent it off to Andy and took a nap.

All of this to say, I think I've been tempered by some kind of fire this week--I am DETERMINED!  I went to an Oncologist!  I did my first training gig in months, and I LOVED it.  Then, I did a sketch show on Saturday night--my first show in LA, and it was amazing to play to half a house in a small tiny theatre with 10 more people on stage than need to be!

And today, Sunday, I woke up and decided:  I have to do the headlights.  My friends Matt and Bart were very encouraging, as they had undertaken this task on a Prius in the past--and convinced me I could do it.  I had bought the parts, and was mostly counting on Bart ending up doing the job as he and I were scheduled to hang today.   But, the hang fell apart, so AFTER watching a million YouTube videos, I went to try.

I got the electric panel thing out, after twisting and tugging.  And then, I had access to the headlight casing.  But that mother fucking cover would NOT budge.

I tried to smile at it, and just got so MAD.

I took a walk and put on my most patient attitude.

I re-watched videos.  I joined PriusChat group and read a solution (Blow hot air on the casting).

I ate, as maybe I'm hungry and sad.  Mad/sad?

And now, I'm writing this blog.  And trying to think if there's an outlet in my building's garage...and do I have an extension cord not in current usage?

And I'm going to get this done, and NOT go to the Hybrid Shop.  But that mother fucker will not turn.

And I've assembled furniture, hung fencing, installed cable, put together my retro table after screws were stripped, hung artwork, etc.

But this STUPID car!  And that STUPID cancer!

But, as I quietly sip my diet coke, and watch Pickle make a nest on her bed, and make plans with my gal pals in the building, and listen to the fan, and eat my leftovers, and breathe in air and breathe out air and my CO2 exchange works, I think, in all honesty, I'm lucky to be alive. I'm lucky my parts work (mostly) and that I can hit my stepcount on my fitbit and that I get to see my family in a few weeks and no matter what, I'll get this headlight fixed.

Because if I am making it through the hardest thing of my life, my mother's death, I can either fix this, or pay a man to fix it for me.

And that's how today feels.  Empowered, determined, lucky and maybe I'll even lay out a bit later.

I MADE it through my birthday and Andy's cancer appointment and my first training and a sketch show and I am making it through this grief.

Watch out PRIUS!

What a week!!!

Dad was here and we did it up!  Train to Santa Barbara---it was amazing.  We saw dolphins (porpoises?) frolicking along the coast as we rode in our train.  Got off--and there was an amazing parade, with fancy horses celebrating Fiesta Days.  It was super hot, and I asked Dad "do you want to go somewhere cooler?" and he said "No, this is amazing. How did you find it Becky Bee?" and we watched.  Then, lunch at a lovely little spot and baja tacos and "mexican street corn"  (you can't fool me, I know Elotes when I see them!) and then a walk to the beach.  We MAY have fought about Anderson Cooper's line of questioning at the first presidential debate, but the sun was hot so instead, we went wine tasting.  Tried to catch the early train, but it was delayed, and we waited and waited at the SB train station.  Ride home was super relaxing, and then at the LA Union Station, couldn't find the car (I knew where it was, but Bruce was insistent), back home, a few drinks and we discussed our communication styles and ways to get on the same page as we sat outside on my patio.

Next day, Dad treated  my car to a shine and buff (so nice!) and we took naps, and then grilled out.  Andy and John let us stay at their place, and we golfed, ate out, and went to Beverly Hills church to mass and the priest was lovely.  Later we both confessed that we cried at mass and tried to keep it together.  Thankfully, Michelle St Marie (old family friend) was there, and we walked through Beverly Hills and ate lunch at the tippy top of Rodeo Drive, and my dad was able to share stories about her family, including her dad who passed away a few years ago, and her godmother, Kitty, who is the namesake for my sister Kitty and Michelle's sister Kitty.  Dad and Mom, and Kitty and another old family friend used to double date after midnight mass, and we all imagine them hanging out in heaven.  I won't lie, there were some tears, but it was wonderful.  Aren't we lucky?

Then, we went to home depot for supplies, and came home and dad did all my little odds and ends, including hanging a wonderful work of original art from my goddaughter, Jayna:):)

We golfed twice at the local public course, and he is so patient, kind, and fun on the golf course.  We got some burgers, and then had dinner with Andy.

Andy's dealing with some health issues, and even so, he came out and hung with us.

The morning my dad left, I put him in an Uber as I wanted to be there with Andy for health stuff--my dad ended up loving his driver and made it safely to LAX.  My mom had the same reaction--she was nervous about Uber (or maybe lyft?  Who knows) and loved loved chatting with the guy.

My dad loved on Pickle, and Andy and John's dog Pearl, and LOVED my new place.

I couldn't have asked for a better visit, and kept encouraging him to come back soon, and stay longer.

I also had my intake for my grief group with the very kind people at the center, and caught up with some pals.

Between the visit from Dad, and Andy's surgery and recovery, I felt more like myself than I have in a long time.

Dad is home, safe and sound, and we really bonded.  Andy is on the road to recovery, and in the best of hands.

And me?  I'm home, with little pickle, watching ER re-runs and thinking about my basil and other plants.  This weekend is a mini college reunion as we cheer on Adam and his Hollywood Bowl Star wars show, and chill the f out.

Thanks Bruce for the visit, right when it was needed, and helping me get my apartment (and life) in order.

Bruce (dad) is here!

He arrived at 910 p to LAX, and we were home by 10:30.  The phone's gps threw him off, but we got it sorted.

At home, he got a burst of hunger, and asked "do you have any real food?"  He wasn't interested in chicken pesto on carrot noodles, but chowed on my chopped med salad, and stole some of my tuna.

We ate, had some manhattans, managed Pickle's barking, reviewed the coffee maker, the tv (only ABC--that'll do for tomorrow), the bathroom lights and had lots of time to chat.

I love my dad--he seems to be ok.  We are all doing ok.

He's snoozing, I'm hanging, Pickle seems to be chilling.

I'm so happy to see my dad.

Dance Party

Have I written about our dance party?

Kitty and I were hanging out with mom in the icu.  It was just the two of us, and we were talking about mom's favorite songs. Chubby Checker, Sam Cooke, and her and dad went on a date and saw Louis Armstrong at Cedar Point!

http://jazztourdatabase.com/sites/jazztourdatabase.com/files/1966-06-25cpt.jpg

In the modern era, she loved Barry Manilow, and the stones.  There was a party bus that Scott Perkins arranged to go see the stones at Municpal stadium where the browns and the indians played, but I was too nervous to go.  So, she drove me separate and we met up with everyone.  We saw the Stones with everyone, even though I was such a baby about it all.

We danced and danced---she loved to dance.  I think Sandy Perkins was there---right Brad?

And goodness, Brad, he was all of our best friends.  He wrestled with Mark, roomed with Paul and Mark, and used to come in to Kitty and I's room on Cornell, and jump on our bed to wake us up "Get up!  Get up!".

When we went through pics for my mom's funeral, Brad was in so many family pics, like a brother.  He is our brother.  When Mom died we all said "How is Brad going to do?"

Anyway, Mom, went to the Rolling Stones concert with her nerdy youngest child and her favorite song was "Beast of Burden".

Good choice Mom!

I am listening to those opening chords---such a great song.


Anyway, Kit and I were hanging in ICU, and we played "Copacabana", then "Beast of Burden"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8On3UiBOTdQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=591d-XV5rEo


, and then her favorite favorite---CSNY's "Our House".

  We cried, and laughed and smiled. I think we also played  "start me up"


And my personal favorite:  She's Like a Rainbow

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SGyOaCXr8Lw


And then as we planned her funeral music, I talked to our church music director, and suggested "Our House" and he advised that it would be really RUFF.  It's a very evocative and emotional song.

So, we opted out, and did the standard Catholic songs---"On Eagle's Wings", and maybe "here i am lord" .  I can't really remember.  I barely saw her casket because I was trying to hold it together for the eulogy.  I do remember my brother Mark, singing and it made me want to sing, too.

It was wonderful--those last few days of ICU---we just kept talking to her and praying and giving her the scoop on everyone.

And we also played the video for "Waiting on a friend".


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SGyOaCXr8Lw

 I saw Michelle St. Marie the other week---she's Kitty's goddaughter, and it reminded me that Mom is up there with her pals, and family.  It's such a wonderful video---have you all seen it?  It'll make you want to move to NYC in the 70s.

Anyway, it's hard it sucks but it's ok.  I get so many letters and cards and notes and I feel loved, and Andy came today and made me go out for a drink of wine.

And, when Amy and I were in London a few years ago, our Airbnb looked out over Mick's London Townhouse, and it was in Chelsea, and I went running (Ok, really jogging) to "You can't always get what you want"--there's so many references to Chelsea--so I tried to run by all of them.  And I took pics of Mick's townhouse, and maybe kinda definitely stalked the places he allegedly went to.

All of this to say--dance you all.  Laugh.  Smile. Go on trips with your family, get in to the kids' music like my mom and dad did----and, if you are ever able to go see the Stones, please do.

xo

Hey Team Eldridge!

So, last week was awful, as evidenced by my blog.

At this moment, I am sitting on my patio in LA, with Pickle begging to get out.  It's dark, but if it were light, she'd go sniff my herbs, try to go visit the neighbor's cat and probably pee on the concrete.

There's been a tremendous outpouring of love and support, and this week, my dad and I booked a flight for him to come visit in LA--a sort of care visit, and also, a "life-goes-on" visit.

And that's the thing, life goes on. Pickle keeps yelling at me from the sliding glass door, I keep working (not much) and sleeping (poorly, only at 4a), and next week I go to see my new doctor and get a referral to a therapist.

Kit is heading to Pittsburgh, Beth is in Myrtle Beach, Paul moves next week and Mark keeps working.  My dad ALMOST finished his thank you notes, and life keeps on keeping on.

Last week, I was so worried when my dad went to visit the Canada friends--like--"Am I going to lose him, too?"  He made it home, and wrote me the sweetest email about life keep on keeping on.  "After one month, we are all doing great, all things considered."

I received flowers today, and essential oils from some really good pals.  A book last week, lots of cards and a wonderful bracelet with St. Anthony on it, and some spa items, too.

I have friends coming to visit, and other stuff to get to.

I even cooked tonight!  We are all on the "baba diet" (my mom's nickname the grandkids used is Baba and we all embraced it and I loved calling her baba)---meaning drinking and eating just enough.

And, while I was cooking in my new kitchen, I had a long chat with my mom tonight and told her that we miss her, but we are all continuing on.  I didn't shed a tear!

I called United to sort out a refund for the flights for my mom and dad, from when they were coming to LA in June.  United customer service was very nice, but in the end, I had to submit forms online and submit my mom's death certificate.  Not the most pleasant of tasks---and then, when I tried to upload an image of the death certificate, the file size was too large.  Good god!

Anyway, herbs grow, flowers bloom, sisters fight about dumb shit, we all take walks and bike rides and see friends and family.

And, I, need a job.

So, if anyone has any good leads:  I can type, write, pitch ideas, negotiate, train, teach improv and writing, answer phones, plan events and need some work.

Thank you to all of you for your kind words, calls, cards, fb notes, letters, gifts, food, and support.

I hope I can support you in all that comes your way down the road.

oh!  And the best news of all---so many people have donated to the Blessing House, my mom's preferred charity!

We don't have the list of all the wonderful donations to the Blessing House---but when we do, we'll get out thank you notes and such.

And Mom keeps visiting me in my dreams.  That's a big part of why I keep sleeping in--to get some time with Mom.

Keep your family close, and your friends close, and hugs and kisses to you all.

Becky

So, dear Becky Bee

Last week was awful.  But this weekend was a comedy show with an old family friend.  My sister Kitty's namesake was my mom's best friend, the original Kitty.  Kitty died very young--and my mom said "I keep hoping that when Kitty was sick, and she volunteered for experimental treatment that it can help people now".  Both my sister Kitty, and the original Kitty's niece, are named after her, which always confused the Elyria Catholic crowds, as Kitty is a unique name.  So, Michelle, the other Kitty's sister, is a family friend, and lives here in LA.  She and I got together, last minute, on Friday, to see a comedy show.  We talked for an hour after on the street about my mom, her dad, who died too young, and the original Kitty, her godmother, and talked about how their graves are right by my mom's grave, and how lucky we are to have the wonderful families we have.

Anyway, I saw my mom the next morning.  Like, in a dream.  I woke up, forced myself back to sleep, because in my dreams, I got to hug my mom so hard.  So hard and long and I felt so much better than I have since she died.  Isn't that lucky?

My sister Beth said "Can you post your talk?"  I gave the eulogy at my mom's funeral.  I re-wrote it a bunch because at first it was super-focused on her last 3 weeks, in the hospital and in ICU.  But, in the end, the evening of the wake, the night before her funeral, I re-wrote it again to be about her life, not her death.  At her wake, there were so many family and friends there, and it became about all of her 76 years, not just the last month of her life.

So, per Beth and my sister Kitty's request---here it is.  At the actual funeral, I was too blurry eyed to follow the exact words--but the story of my relationship with her is here.  It's just one lens of many who knew her---so it's biased.  But, to me, she was the most amazing mom, friend, chit-chat partner, garage-sale shopping, fun, funny mom I could have ever wanted.  Her and dad and my siblings nicknamed me "Becky bee".  Isn't that a great nickname?

xo


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Mom!

My name is Becky Eldridge and I’m Bruce and Mary Jane’s youngest child.  the baby of our family of 5 kids.

My dad shared a story about one day in a recent summer—her and my dad were in the pool just laughing.  I asked “What about?” and he said “Hell if I know. Just spontaneous laughter”.  That’s them to a tee.  They would hold hands, give each other smooches, go for long drives and just chat.  The greatest love story of all time.  At the hospital, my dad came in the morning and the evening, and we'd sneak away at night, so they could hold hands, watch the Cavs (lose), and have their date night.

My mom also had a wicked sense of humor, and in the last few years, really enjoyed texting.  Except, she’d be texting and midway through say “OOOHHHH!!!!  That’s not what I wanted to say”.  She’d send email in capital letters---which, in email language, means she’s shouting at you.  I never told her because it made me laugh.

My mom had the biggest smile—it would light up a room.  All of the 16 grand kids loved LOVED seeing my mom.  Lots of hugs, and always willing to lend a helping hand.  And that crazy curly silver hair!  It was her signature!  We couldn’t find a good wig and knew we never would so she went with a new, shorter haircut look during chemo.

My mom loved, in no particular order: Paul Newman, General Hospital, super sweet iced tea, HGTV, prime rib, the Plaid store in Chicago, George Clooney, lake erie perch from oh boy’s, The Rolling Stones (especially the song “Beast of Burden”), garage sales, watching the Olympics, the good wife, sweet white jug wine, Prince Harry a good reuben and Bruce, our dad.

My mom and dad could be found at many events for us kids, and their 16 grandkids.  They loved cheering everyone on, and knew the importance of “showing up”.

My mom and dad loved to travel in the motorhome, to Europe

(not in the motorhome)

and down to Florida with the Canadians (as we call them) who are here today.

I can still remember her cooking away on the tiny motorhome stove while my dad barreled across Nebraska.  Our favorite family memories are from those trips “out west” and the holidays.

My mom loved Christmas—carrying all the traditions from Mimi’s Christmas, Cousin Gift exchange, singing until Santa comes, and all being together.

My mom was very involved in church here at St. Mary’s, volunteering at the meals for the needy on Tuesdays, donating to the wonderful Blessing house, attending mass with Father Charlie.  All of us kids made the various sacraments here—and she found great comfort in her faith.  We know in our hearts she is in heaven now, seeing her beloved parents, who she was very devoted to, Mimi and Pa, her best friend, the original Kitty, my father’s parents, and many friends taken up.  I hope they are playing cards!

My mom also loved to get together with the “Club” ladies, play Golf with the Putter Puffs, Volleyball and Pickleball with her friends and family at the Elyria Rec and kept busy hitting any garage sale or estate sale she could find.

One time when we were teenagers, my mom and us girls were shopping—she pulled a shirt out of the rack, held it up and asked “What do you think” and one of us responded “You can never have too much plaid, mom.”  She scrunched up her face, and walked away as we all three laughed.  That's why we are wearing plaid today!

When my mom was diagnosed last fall with Hodkins, she went up to Goodwill and got a bunch of puzzles.  She knew busy hands help take worry away. 

She never complained when she was sick—she’d say “It just sucks”. She’d say “Your dad is my hero”. 

The staff at the hospital also said “When your dad is here, she really lights up”.  They both lit up for each other.  My mom and dad were married for 52 years---My dad said the other day  “I never needed anything else but her.”

And my uncles--her brothers!  Uncle Tom, Uncle John and Uncle Lee.  Our uncles knew her all her life—she was the baby of their family, too.  They doted on her. And our cousins doted on her, too. We really hit the jackpot with our family.

So, looking out at all of you last night, today, and all the wonderful supporters during chemo, and during her whole life---we say thank you, we love you, enjoy your reubens, your trips to Florida, your friends, your family.

We will miss you mom at thanksgiving, Christmas, Memorial Day parade and every day.  Thanks for being the best mom on the blockJ

And here’s our prayer we’d say every night: God bless mommy and daddy, beth, mark, paul, kitty and becky, Grandma and Grandpa, Mimi and Pa, all our aunts and uncles and cousins, everyone we love, and everyone in the whole world, Amen.

And god bless you, Mom.

Death is funny

I had just moved to California.  Mom was flying through chemo like a rockstar but had a setback with her lungs.  We just needed to kick out that PCP Pneumonia, and then she'd be fine.  But, after a few days, she wasn't getting better.  My dad had checked with the doctors and they had cleared her for a trip to visit my new place in LA.  She was cured of Hodkins!  She can travel!

We talked about doing a modified visit---lots of puzzle time, lots of hanging out at home and drives instead of walks.  My mom never liked to walk anyway, so it'd be fine.  She would be a bit weak, but still ok if we could just kick out that PCP Pneumonia!

Then, she wasn't responding to antibiotics, so maybe cancel the flight.  Would there be any change fees?  We hadn't booked on SWA. And then we heard she's at 25% heart capacity.  Ok, not great news, but her lungs would kick in!  So, we cancelled the flights. Figured, there would be no change fee for someone in the hospital.  Then, maybe I should come home to Ohio for a "cheer up" visit.  It was hard for me to be far away when she was in the hopsital---but it if I could see her smiling and laughing I'd realize she's going to be ok.

I went home.  In the end, I was with her for 2 1/2 days and then she went into ICU.  That last morning was wonderful.  Uncle Tom, my dad, and Mrs J were all there, and we laughed and joked about Dad's chart for her breathing blowing into a tube.  It seemed like it'd be ok if she just worked out those lungs.  All that day, the nurses wanted to get her out of bed and into her chair but she felt too weak. 

After everyone left to let her rest, it was just me and her.  She napped, and then the pulmonologist and the cardiologist came in and looked so grim.   She said "it doesn't look good" and I said we can beat out that infection!  Breathe and eat mom!

Then, she took a nap, and woke up and had a major oxygen deprivation incident.  I was so scared---everyone ran into the room and someone said "Did you call your dad?"  I had and was sobbing but trying to be the happy positive face she would see and she was wearing that stupid awful oxygen CPAP mask and looking at me with those big baby blues like "What the heck is going on here???"  I followed all of them into ICU and at some point everyone was there.  We decided to intubate and she said "What are we waiting for?" and whispered to my dad "I think he's taking me up" (meaning God) and so they did it, and she was sedated.  She could respond and squeeze our hands, and kept grabbing at the tube, until they had to restrain her.  In another few days, we did a trach, and that wasn't any better and then she was gone.

It happened too fast for me.  For all of us--we didn't know she'd be gone.  I don't think she did either. My sister Beth said  "they always recover on Grey's Anatomy" and Kitty and I had a dance party, and played her favorite Rolling Stones song "Beast of Burden", and Barry Manilow's "copacabana" and then sobbed while we played CSNY's "Our House".  She loved loved that song.  Life used to be so hard.

We all got to say goodbye, and be with her and her wake was wonderful and her funeral was perfect but she's still gone.

I want to call her all the time. On every walk with my little dog, Pickle, and when I finish work or am in the car.  All the time.  To tell her about the concert I'm going to or the garage sale where I scored a bunch of great clothes.

I miss her so much!  So much!   I know I'll be fine and we'll all be fine--she lost her dad when she was so young, and taught us all how to move on.

But, I don't want to.  I am selfish and want her here.

She was the best mom I could have ever wanted---funny, smart, and so so kind and friendly. That big smile.

I walked today up to the Frank Lloyd Wright Hollyhock house in my neighborhood and thought "I can't wait to show this to my dad".  I sent a picture to my siblings and they wrote back "Send more pictures!".  We love that architecture shit. We all went to Falling Water a few years ago, and one of my favorite pictures is her and my dad holding hands as we walked towards the entrance.

I know this isn't Vietnam, or another terrible awful situation, but I feel terrible.  Awful.  Like, I can binge watch tv, and listen to Willie Nelson--but it's still there. 

I miss my mommy.  So so much.  I know it'll all be ok and she's at peace but as my sisters and dad keep saying "It sucks.  It just sucks". 

So, death is funny.  I haven't experienced any tragedy, young loss of life in a truly personal way.  But, now that I'm here---my heart goes out to everyone who has lost that special someone amazing.

May we all keep their legacy and love in our hearts.

Thursday

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Today is Thursday.  I’ve been back in LA for 3 days?  Yesterday was sort of the last to-do for my mom’s passing.  We asked friends and family to donate to a local charity---the Blessing House, and I arranged with them to get a copy of all the various donations so we can write thank-you notes.  I’ve been jogging a bit---wanting to sweat but then walking makes me super-sad, too.  Yesterday I slept most of the day.  This morning, I was walking Pickle and it was so sunshiney-yellow, and the flowers are so gorgeous, especially the purple trees that are showering their blossoms all over the sidewalks---and I was instantly in a good mood and thought “God damn it mom and dad for your relentless optimism.”  Then, my sister Beth called, and I was crying and she was lecturing me about getting back to work and I finally told her---“I don’t push back on you a lot but I need you to stop lecturing me about work” and she laughed and said “I’m treating you like a 5^th grader” and now I’m thinking---she lectures me more than my actual mother ever did. 

Today is Thursday, so I should sweep the floor and maybe even clean the sinks and toilet.  One of the days we were visiting my mom before she was in ICU, she confessed that she didn’t have a toilet brush and used the water from the bowl and a regular scrub brush.  Kitty, my other sister, was disgusted and I was charmed.  Very efficient Mom!  The night before, Kitty got mad because I wasn’t washing a pan with enough dish soap and we told my mom about our fight and she mostly rolled her eyes at us and pretended to go to sleep.

Today is Thursday, and it's 3 weeks ago she was tubed. That morning, Dad and Uncle Tom and Mrs. Jezewski and I were all there in the morning, and we laughed and hung out and my dad made a chart for my mom that told her how often to do the breathing apparatus and I kept making her follow the chart, and she shot me nasty looks as she forced herself to breath.  Mrs. J led a prayer and then my mom wanted to rest.

I was there alone at the hospital with her as two specialists came in with very grim faces, and she turned to me after and said “It doesn’t look good”.  I yelled at the cardiologist for restricting her food as she was eating NOTHING except stupid Ensure shakes and wanted chicken noodle soup god damn it and they had her on restricted salt and liquid so nothing appealed to her and he mumbled about getting a nutrition consult. 

I tried to find the positive, and then her oxygen levels dropped again and she wasn’t able to get any air.  Everyone started pouring in—the docs, nurses, respritatory therapists, icu crew---and prepped her for ICU and one of the nurses said “Did you call your dad?” and I had and I was crying but trying to keep in my mom’s line of sight so she could see a familiar face and hold back my tears and I thought she was going to die as she looked at me with those giant baby blues.  I actually picture that moment and she has hair—all of the versions of her hair---light brown, silvery-white, curly—and not that little baby bald bird head.  An hour later, she was tubed and we never heard her speak again and she was barely conscious but could squeeze our hands for a bit and open her eyes but was never fully there again.

And now I can’t hold back my tears and I need to sort out a loan so I can work part time for a while so I’m not crying at my desk all the time.  And clean my apartment and make some pork and write thank-you notes and water the herbs and find a grief group and now my little dog is licking my tears and rolling on the couch in her happy snoopy dance and I know this will always be awful, but it won’t always be only this.  That already, I have found joy and delight and iced coffee and binge tv watching and sleep and friends and family.  Because god damn it---that’s what my parents taught me to do!  UGH!