Pre-Grieving?

My family Buster and Sharon have been emptying Grammy's apartment. As Grammy won't be returning it needs to be cleaned out by the end of June. I am especially grateful to Sharon for sorting and setting aside personal treasures. Tonight I looked through some of what has been set aside for me. There are photographs, cards and letters she had received and letters she had written but weren't sent. After picking up a frame with Sam and Mae's school pictures from last year, I realized how difficult Buster and Sharon's task is. They are sorting through Grammy's personal things, as one must do when a relative dies, yet she is still with us. My husband best articulates the situation: Going through belongings of the deceased allows for closure and healing. We aren't ready for closure while she still has stories to tell, questions to ask, "I love you" to say, and the ability to enjoy simple pleasures we can offer her.

I Have An Idea For A Book

I'm thinking about writing a book using the 57 messages my Grammy has left on my Uncle Buster's answering machine. If nothing else, it would be something beautiful to share with my family. The recordings range from "I want Pam to have the cookie jar..." to, "I'm getting weaker Buster, I don't know how much longer I'll be here." There is one that starts with "I love you Buster. Be a good boy so we can hold hands again someday upstairs." Some messages are funny, some are sad, and they are all worth keeping because she's Grammy.
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Grammy woke Friday morning feeling frightened that her hour was up and wanted us to come. I went. When we first learned of her tumor I wondered if she would die Motercycle Week.
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Motorcycle Week in Laconia started this weekend. When I was a kid, it was Motercyle Weekend. Streaking was in then, I was four or five and saw a naked man for the first time. I thought it looked like men had patches of mushrooms growing between their legs. My Uncle Buster told me some wild stories about the early years of Motorcycle Weekend. He was there the year Marshal Law was declared. That tale is best told by him.
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Today is Sunday and she is still with us. I spent 10 hours pampering her yesterday. For myself I want more hours. For her I hope she finds the peace she seeks.

The Swimming Hole

Memorable Summer Moments

I think about my kids having a conversation one day of their happiest memories from the Deweybarn. This moment would be one of mine.

I'm 40!

So many updates, my profile needs revising. I am 40, we now have one goat instead of two, and I have another job. After wife and mother, my next favorite is being a Passion Parties consultant, doing in-home parties selling sensual products for women.

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My friends and family used my new job to lure me into a surprise birthday party. I spent a good deal of time yesterday afternoon picking out products to demonstrate, loading batteries, and planning my introduction for a party at Mary's house. Those buggers! They successfully surprised me and I had a wonderful time!

On Our Walk

"Sam isn't the big, blue sky beautiful?"
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"Yes Mommy, it's like the sea."
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I was then treated to a rendition of Spongebob Squarepants theme song. Profound observation inspired by television.

Spilled Milk

"Don't cry over spilled milk." I believe in not sweating small stuff, keeping the big picture in perspective, etc. On the other hand, a loosely capped 16oz soda dumping into the contents of my loaded purse can be the last straw in context of my last 48hrs.

During my time with Grammy the week before last, we laughed, I held her hand, combed her hair, rubbed her back, helped with personal care, advocated for her, and said goodbye. I send pictures and phone at least every other day. During our phone conversation last Wednesday she asked if I was coming back. I hadn't planned to, but responded, "Of course Grammy. How about Friday?"

Thursday morning I briefly stepped out of an operating room, leaving my Mae anesthetized. She needed replacement of Eustachian tubes (ear tubes) as one had fallen out and there was fluid behind her ear drum. It was weird leaving her vulnerable in that huge, sterile room. I stepped out and checked my voicemail. Or realtor phoned, he wanted to show the house Friday at 3pm. Not bad, the sign was put out Monday. Cool!

I phoned Grammy that evening to tell her we would come Saturday because of the showing. I found her to be terribly distressed. When I left last week she had been transferred to hospice care and would remain in her hospital room. Thursday afternoon she was informed her condition had stabilized. Arrangements needed to be made for transfer to a nursing facility or home with 24hr care. A meeting was scheduled Friday at 3pm initiate the process.

After a 3hr drive Mae, Sam and I checked into a hotel near Grammy's hospital. Knowing I might be tempted to drive home late with precious cargo, it was best to commit for the night. I had arranged childcare during the meeting, but wanted to visit Grammy beforehand. At the hospital, a few feet from the van Sam took a digger and scrapped his knee. Poor guy fell apart. After briefly visiting with Grammy, I needed to get going with them if I was to participate in this meeting without distraction. As we passed the office of the nurse coordinating the meeting, I stopped in to introduce Sam and Mae. Sam slipped, hit his head on the door frame. Poor guy fell apart again.

After a difficult and emotional meeting I joined family for dinner. When I arrived, Sam snuggled up to me. He felt awful hot and his ears were red. I had nothing with me so we went out in 5pm traffic on a Friday to find a pharmacy.

When we got back to our hotel, Sam crashed. This was when Mae decided her turn to be challenging. She would not sleep. I understood we were in an unfamiliar place, but I worked her from 9pm-11pm.

Mae woke at 6:15am. I worked her again for another hour, then Sam woke. Sam being up meant, "Stop that! We can't afford to by another TV, don't move that one around!" "Stay away from the door!" Sadly, in this room Sam could reach the door lock. "Honey, that nice woman we met yesterday works hard to keep these rooms clean. Do not make her job harder by crushing crackers into the carpet." I quickly abandoned my dream of taking a hot shower as they watched the Disney Channel. I'm sure Sam would have made it to the sugar cereal dispenser at the continental breakfast before I managed to get my hair wet.

We dressed, packed our things and headed for the lobby. All the while I tried keeping on top of Sam, "Honey, if you want to go out for pancakes I need to be able to trust you. Stay where I can see you!" Just when I felt I had him under control, Mae darted off down a long corridor. I was lugging three big bags, one of them being my purse with a loosely caped 16oz diet coke. I caught up with her, scooped her up and went to check out. That is when I realized my right hip was soaked, Mae's shirt was wet and my soda had dumped in my purse. Spilled milk? Spilled Soda? Motherfucker!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!