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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 5th 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!
