Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Out Of Style
Today at the gym on the treadmill I grabbed an InStyle mag to flip through while I exercised. With Valentines all over the cover, it was apparently a February issue. I wanted to check current hair styles, make up trends and the latest must-have spring accessories. Specifically, I was looking for pictures of bright yellow shoes, handbags, and bold floral prints that have been gracing the magazines this season. Instead I saw gladiator sandals, neckline bling and a large section on celebrity weddings. I flipped through the entire magazine getting tips on how to look current this time of year but got to the end with some confusion. Vanessa Williams and Rick Fox, the perfect couple? Didn't they break up a long time ago? It was only then that I looked on the spine and saw that my "current" trend guide was four years old. I'm hopeless.
The Next Best Thing?
My mom's best friend's daughter was going away to college in a very urban part of the country--one where the traffic is so heavy, there are ordinances against driving one person to a car during rush hours. My mom's friend went to a novelty shop in Boone in search of a life-sized doll that her daugther could put in the passenger seat to look like there were more than one person traveling in the car. My mom's best friend has a wacky sense of humor, but other than that she's pretty much as straight as they come. She's one of those fun moms who says you don't need alcohol to have a good time, and means it. Anyway, she went into this shop and asked for a life-sized blow up doll. The clerk was back in the back for a long time then finally came back out holding an inflatated sheep and said, "We're all out of human dolls but we have this sheep. Will this do?"
Friday, March 07, 2008
The Last 3 Days
5 years ago March 7th was on a Friday like today. 5 years ago, March 8th, was on a Saturday, like tomorrow. This year Feb. had 29 days. In 2003, it didn't. So, the last 3 days.
We only went out when we needed to, except for Daniel, who was out of the house quite a bit. He didn't necessarily want to be there when it happened, which I guess is pretty close to needing to be away. Food kept coming in and so did visitors. When this kind of thing happens you often feel compelled to "do something" and doing something manifested itself in homemade chicken pot pies. Although we took them and ate them, those of us who knew the back story wondered, "Where have you been in the last 8 years? What took you so long? Why are you showing up on our doorstep now? It's too late." In times of grief, people do things that make themselves feel better and the crying and pain is usually a representation of what you've lost, not what the dying person is losing.
I've never lost sight of what my mom lost, but at the same time, I've never viewed her death as a tragedy. A tragedy is being shot and killed your senior year of college or what it feels like if you're the parents and family of that young woman. There are many more tragic examples of death, and I understand that my mom lived a very full eight plus years that she had cancer, and that her family and friends did too. I also know that many many people miss her being around.
David actually put in a full work week and made it back to Boone while my mom was still alive. That's remarkable, but that was Mama. It was Friday afternoon, and I was calling Boone Drug to see about running out there to pick up some more pain medication for her. David was reuniting with Grace and Kate and N were in the white room with my mom. My dad was downstairs and Daniel was with S. I can't remember how many times we all rushed in to be right there with her as she drew her last breath only for it not to be her last breath, or last hour or last day. On Friday, March 7th as I was holding on the telephone line with a pharmacist, N came running in to tell me she thought it had happened. I dropped the phone and ran into the white room. My mom had taken her last breath. It was like she knew I was planning on going out to get her next round of meds and she said, "Don't bother." N said, "She's only a shell now, her soul's in Heaven." Someone got Daddy and someone called Daniel. Someone called my Aunt S and someone called Hospice. When Hospice came, they suggested that we all gather in another room because of the difficulty in seeing someone you love being taken away. My mom was cremated, and even though I know what happened to her body, my last image of her is in the white room, in bed, in peace. We gathered downstairs and K came down to get us after Mama was gone. I'm not a huge touchy-feely hugger type (except with my own kids), but when Daniel came back, we each gave him a hug. He'd just lost his mother.
It was late, it was over, and we were all exhausted. I don't remember how, exactly, but phone calls were made and people were notified. We didn't begin planning her two memorial services until the next day, on my 31st birthday.
So tomorrow's my birthday, just like it will always be the day after March 7th. I've been especially looking forward to my birthday this year because UNC plays Dook and it's definitely our turn to win. With the recent UNC student murder there's been talk about how this UNC-Duke match-up probably will feel different, not as festive. If everything I've read about Eve Carson is true, how she epitomized the Carolina spirit, then I can say with confidence that she'd want UNC to beat some Dook butt tomorrow night. It appears to be who she was. And if my mom were around to observe the 5th anniversary of her death and if she were aware that people are still calling me and e-mailing me on March 7th to tell me they're thinking of me because I'm thinking of her, surely she'd insist that the focus be taken off her and put on the sad loss of Eve Carson. It's who she was.
We only went out when we needed to, except for Daniel, who was out of the house quite a bit. He didn't necessarily want to be there when it happened, which I guess is pretty close to needing to be away. Food kept coming in and so did visitors. When this kind of thing happens you often feel compelled to "do something" and doing something manifested itself in homemade chicken pot pies. Although we took them and ate them, those of us who knew the back story wondered, "Where have you been in the last 8 years? What took you so long? Why are you showing up on our doorstep now? It's too late." In times of grief, people do things that make themselves feel better and the crying and pain is usually a representation of what you've lost, not what the dying person is losing.
I've never lost sight of what my mom lost, but at the same time, I've never viewed her death as a tragedy. A tragedy is being shot and killed your senior year of college or what it feels like if you're the parents and family of that young woman. There are many more tragic examples of death, and I understand that my mom lived a very full eight plus years that she had cancer, and that her family and friends did too. I also know that many many people miss her being around.
David actually put in a full work week and made it back to Boone while my mom was still alive. That's remarkable, but that was Mama. It was Friday afternoon, and I was calling Boone Drug to see about running out there to pick up some more pain medication for her. David was reuniting with Grace and Kate and N were in the white room with my mom. My dad was downstairs and Daniel was with S. I can't remember how many times we all rushed in to be right there with her as she drew her last breath only for it not to be her last breath, or last hour or last day. On Friday, March 7th as I was holding on the telephone line with a pharmacist, N came running in to tell me she thought it had happened. I dropped the phone and ran into the white room. My mom had taken her last breath. It was like she knew I was planning on going out to get her next round of meds and she said, "Don't bother." N said, "She's only a shell now, her soul's in Heaven." Someone got Daddy and someone called Daniel. Someone called my Aunt S and someone called Hospice. When Hospice came, they suggested that we all gather in another room because of the difficulty in seeing someone you love being taken away. My mom was cremated, and even though I know what happened to her body, my last image of her is in the white room, in bed, in peace. We gathered downstairs and K came down to get us after Mama was gone. I'm not a huge touchy-feely hugger type (except with my own kids), but when Daniel came back, we each gave him a hug. He'd just lost his mother.
It was late, it was over, and we were all exhausted. I don't remember how, exactly, but phone calls were made and people were notified. We didn't begin planning her two memorial services until the next day, on my 31st birthday.
So tomorrow's my birthday, just like it will always be the day after March 7th. I've been especially looking forward to my birthday this year because UNC plays Dook and it's definitely our turn to win. With the recent UNC student murder there's been talk about how this UNC-Duke match-up probably will feel different, not as festive. If everything I've read about Eve Carson is true, how she epitomized the Carolina spirit, then I can say with confidence that she'd want UNC to beat some Dook butt tomorrow night. It appears to be who she was. And if my mom were around to observe the 5th anniversary of her death and if she were aware that people are still calling me and e-mailing me on March 7th to tell me they're thinking of me because I'm thinking of her, surely she'd insist that the focus be taken off her and put on the sad loss of Eve Carson. It's who she was.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Recent Updates
1.) Thanks to all my loyal informants (5 in all) that gave me the bad news throughout the day that the Raleigh Van Halen show this Friday has been canceled, wait, postponed, until April 13th. Perhaps the most touching was my dad finding out and not being able to bear telling me, so he had Kate do it. But by then I had already known for hours. I found that kind of cute and quite frankly, a little pitiful. If only that was the worst news I'd get all week.
2.) For those of you who heard about the ASU lock-down and wondered if any of my family members were affected, they were. My brother was in the fitness center when it all happened and was led to a secret room for over an hour. Turns out the gunman story was a hoax. I'm not sure what's real anymore. I'm even wondering if the hoax is a hoax. When David heard that the alleged gunman was wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt and a black ski mask he was like, "Well that describes half the people in Boone."
2.) For those of you who heard about the ASU lock-down and wondered if any of my family members were affected, they were. My brother was in the fitness center when it all happened and was led to a secret room for over an hour. Turns out the gunman story was a hoax. I'm not sure what's real anymore. I'm even wondering if the hoax is a hoax. When David heard that the alleged gunman was wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt and a black ski mask he was like, "Well that describes half the people in Boone."
Monday, March 03, 2008
The Last 10 Days, Days 4-7
David stayed through the weekend, and without much change, drove back to Chapel Hill for his Sunday shift. While he was there, though, he did what he does best. He supportively stayed out of the way, took care of Grace, ran errands and the vacuum cleaner in the family room without being asked. I was fine with him leaving. The phone calls picked up and the visits slowed down. Mrs. C was granted one last visit with Mama, but most people who came to the door didn't make it down the hallway.
Daniel and Daddy came in and out of the room, sometimes to weep buckets (my dad) but mainly it was Kate, N, Grace and me rounding the clock. I sat on the floor and played with Grace and while she napped I started working on the newspaper obituary. It felt very strange writing that in the past tense while my mom steadily breathed in and out two feet away. We all decided on a picture of her to have framed and Daniel took on this project.
There were a few laughs--ones that my mom would have surely appreciated. Grace's baby monitor was back in my dad's room with her port-a-crib and the speaker was with us in the white room. Let's just say that it's fair to assume my dad did NOT know we could all hear him doing his bathroom business. But we did hear it. All. Other zanyness included Grace's battery-operated Farmer Brown toy going off LOUDLY in the middle of somber moments. There were several dramatic times when we thought "This is it! Everyone gather round, I think she's about to take her last breath!" And instead of it being her last breath, it was "FARMER BROWN HAS A BROWN HORSE. B-R-O-W-N H-O-R-S-E, Yuk, Yuk, Yuk" reminding us that there's never a bad time for a good sense of humor. And those who knew my mom knew she had one of the best.
Hours in that room were surprising therapeutic. She was using an oxygen tank and the steady breath, the rise and fall of her chest, the touch of her still-warm pulse was enough to keep us all going and grounded. She was our center and because of her, we all knew what and where our places were. She was still the beating heart of our family. At least for a few more days.
Daniel and Daddy came in and out of the room, sometimes to weep buckets (my dad) but mainly it was Kate, N, Grace and me rounding the clock. I sat on the floor and played with Grace and while she napped I started working on the newspaper obituary. It felt very strange writing that in the past tense while my mom steadily breathed in and out two feet away. We all decided on a picture of her to have framed and Daniel took on this project.
There were a few laughs--ones that my mom would have surely appreciated. Grace's baby monitor was back in my dad's room with her port-a-crib and the speaker was with us in the white room. Let's just say that it's fair to assume my dad did NOT know we could all hear him doing his bathroom business. But we did hear it. All. Other zanyness included Grace's battery-operated Farmer Brown toy going off LOUDLY in the middle of somber moments. There were several dramatic times when we thought "This is it! Everyone gather round, I think she's about to take her last breath!" And instead of it being her last breath, it was "FARMER BROWN HAS A BROWN HORSE. B-R-O-W-N H-O-R-S-E, Yuk, Yuk, Yuk" reminding us that there's never a bad time for a good sense of humor. And those who knew my mom knew she had one of the best.
Hours in that room were surprising therapeutic. She was using an oxygen tank and the steady breath, the rise and fall of her chest, the touch of her still-warm pulse was enough to keep us all going and grounded. She was our center and because of her, we all knew what and where our places were. She was still the beating heart of our family. At least for a few more days.
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