Welcome to my nightmare
I am unable to write about anything but death right now. I was just jolted awake from an attempted sleep. I was dreaming about caskets and that wierd accordian-looking metal thing that they set caskets on and the green astroturf that temporarily covers graves. I dreamt that they were selling t-shirts at my mother's funeral, ones with slogans like "Let's put the 'fun' back in funeral."
What type of person goes into the death business? It would be interesting to meet an imbalmer or grave digger or the person who puts make-up on the dead. How do these people feel about death? Are they fearful? Probably not. I once saw an interview with an imbalmer who claimed "to love her job." How the fuck can you love filling up dead people with imbalming fluid. That's like a nursing assistant loving emptying bed pans and wiping the asses of comatose patients. Who knows, some people like being urinated and shitted on, so I guess anything's possible. Did you know that there are people who snort dead people's ashes? It's supposed to give you some weird kind of high. There's some real fucking freaks in the world.
As my mother's days quickly come to an end, the realization that I have no idea how to deal with the death of someone becomes a reality. Since I refuse to even drive by a mortuary, making funeral arrangements is nothing less than a nightmare. I made Bryan look up "cremation" in the phone book. I quickly called the one with the best ad, if that really is a possibility. I went with the "family-owned and operated since 1920." I felt like I was having a conversation with Vincent Price. "We have our own crematorium on premises so you know the ashes you're getting back are really your mother's."
Well, that really puts my mind at ease. "The price includes a standard urn, but you can upgrade to a more elaborate one." My mother would be just as happy with Tupperware. After all, she wants to be scattered over the casinos in Laughlin, Nevada. She'd much rather we took the money we saved on the designer urn and throw it on a Blackjack table. We have no plans of setting her on a mantle.
I need drugs, now. The bottle of wine I drank just isn't working.
Posted at June 21, 2003 1:07 AM
Comments
you're so much like me. I love your writing.
I know that you are probably not the kind of person that goes in for "shrinks", but I really think that you should talk to someone, maybe a grief group therapy or something.
I can relate to your feelings of anger and grief. I experienced similar feelings when my great-grandmother died when I was 9. We weren't given any warning, she died of an aneurysm. I can appreciate her being spared a long, drawn-out sickness, but I felt like I had been robbed of saying goodbye on top of being robbed of one of my best friends.
Alot of my anger and resentment went neglected for so long that it began to fester and invade my entire life. I was angry and resentful of everyone and everything. I was in a "deep, severe depression" by the time I was 10. I thought about killing myself almost everyday. Because I managed to hide my anger and sadness so well at such an early age, I suffered needlessly for 6 long years.
I have never been afraid of death, maybe because I kept it so close for so many years. I felt like I was in control of it. But I do think that if I found out I was dying tomorrow, I would be just as angry as I was when my great-grandmother died. I have so much to live for now, I have so much I still want to do. But I wouldn't be afraid, if there is some form of life after death, it's got to be better than alot of the stuff I have gone through here. And if not, I hope those that love me remember me fondly for as long as they can, because then at least a little part of me will always be with them.
I just want to say that I am truly sorry that you will lose your mother soon. I'm not going to blow sunshine up for ass and tell you it "is meant to be" or "is for the best". Just try not to let your last days with your mother be all about morbidity and anger, there is plenty of time for that later.
But if it helps any, now when I think of my Bon Don it isn't her death of think of it, it is usually the time she told her worthless piece of dog (who she loved) that if she didn't get out from under her feet she was going to make her a sailorhat out of her asshole. Man, she was a card.
Sorry about your mom. I lost mine last March after months of her trying to get off of a ventilator after cancer surgery left her with only one functioning lung. She had just turned 74 the week before. I know how frustrated, sad, angry and confused you are. I felt selfish for wanting her to keep living when she obviously wanted to go. We wondered if we should keep pushing her to try because she was so close to winning but she didn't want to try and maybe it would be easier for everyone if she gave up but, no, we shouldn't think that way because if we try harder she might make it. In the end, we had to make the decision to let her go and even thought we intellectually know it was what she wanted a little part of us wonders if we had let the emergency docs add the pacemaker too she may have eventually won after more struggling. We'll never know for sure and we just have to go on and hope that we did the right thing and maybe when we finally go to wherever people go it won't matter anymore.
I have a deep appreciation for what you are going through. When I was young, oh those so many years ago, I spent a lot of time with my grandparents and losing them was devestating to me. About 4 years ago my wife's grandmother, a woman whom I loved dearly, passed away in similar circumstances to what you are going through.
My wife was in a terrible auto accident 5+ years ago and has a permanent brain injury. She does well, but her personality is different in many ways and she has memory and minor motor function problems. One of the things I came to learn when she was hospitalized was that people handle dire circumstances differently.
I wish you the best in these terrible times and I will be thinking of you daily!
f.
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you're so much like me. I love your writing.
Posted by: caroline at June 21, 2003 3:08 AM