Things Past Passed
May. 15th, 2009 11:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kitewithfishI have become pathetic in terms of updating. Here's why:
May 1, 2009- Friday
Early morning: My mother discovers my maternal grandmother's body in her parlor. Grammie seems to have died the previous evening. Around her on the couch are a cold cup of tea, a trashy romance novel, her knitting, and her dog curled up beside her.
8.50: I am taking my last Ancient Greek test, for which I am underprepared. I get a call halfway thru from my father, but don't pick it up, and turn my phone off. I complete the test. (I got a C.)
9.45: Five minutes before my German class, my younger brother, who lives at home and helped my mother deal with the EMT's and coroner earlier that morning, calls me to tell me Grammie died. I go to class, bluster my way through discussions of my fellow students' presentations, and wonder if I am going to throw up. At the break of the three hour class, I call my mom and ask her if there is anything I should be doing. There isn't really, but she wants me to come home.
3pm: I blow off my last class of the day, and my brother drives me home. I think that I have ludicrously overpacked for a weekend at home, but Billy tells me that while we are holding calling hours/wake for Grammie in Massachusetts, her funeral will be in California with Grammie's other daughter and grandchildren, and the cousins that have lived in California since the dawn of time.
4pm: The hours is weird and still and uncomfortable, and I am mildly freaking out because my mom is so sad. People keep calling and I just want to take the phone off the hook. The three kids don't have much to do, and end up hanging out with each other for most of the time. We run various errands and figure out what's happening after the calling hours on Sunday. I find out I'm actually going to California. A friend of my mom (also a female priest) does a prayer out of the Book of Common Prayer that I have memorized to say for when I die. It's a nice prayer, and it gets better with repetition. This is the first of four times I hear it over the next week or so.
Saturday May 2
My dad takes my brother and sister out to buy something appropriate to wear. I don't want to go, and don't. Mom and I take Grammie's dog to the vet to get it looked at before it can fly to California to live with my aunt, who originally owned the dog. The wait is long, and the dog is freaked out, and I start to cry a bit because I hate it when dogs are sad and scared.
Sunday, May 3rd
The calling hours are really well attended by people from my mom's church (she works there)- a number of them knew Grammie personally from when she would go to church. We kids set up a little table at the funeral home with photos of Grammie at various stages of life, and her family, and her knitting projects. The tone is one of sadness and relief: there is a lot of chatting and hugging and people making sure that we're okay. I feel pretty well loved, actually. Wakes are nice. We read for the second time the prayer I like.
My mother has given my grandmother a spinning wheel pin and a little toy lamb made of wool and wood to be buried in. My grandmother is not wearing lipstick, which is noticeably uncharacteristic. The embalming process had made her tissue feel oddly firm and dry and cold, but her skin feels the same if you just lay your hand lightly on it. Her hair feels exactly the same. A friend of my mother's, who nursed her own mother through long ill-health in my childhood, tells my mother "Well done, my good and faithful servant." My mom cries and feels like she did well by her mom.
Monday, May 4th,
Damned early: We fly to California with a stop over. My siblings and I sit together on the first half of the flight and goof off, but there is a slightly uncomfortable tone. My mom and dad sit together. My mom looks deeply out of it- she's just following the leader and she keeps holding my dad's hand a lot.
California is dry and bright and unpleasant, like always.
Tuesday, May 5th
I'm going to skip talking about this, tho I may go into more later. The funeral was very good- sweet and sad and heartfelt. Arrangements go as they should- my mom gives a eulogy that is distracted and heartfelt and loving. My brother, my cousin Tom, and I all read something out of the bible: all the music and passages were chosen by my grandmother and my mom several months ago, and there is a nice feeling of completion knowing that we were doing things that Grammie wanted and liked.
Wednesday, may 6th
Getting back to MA with my brother and sister gives me a good working definition of a clusterfuck. My aunt allotted us only an hour's grace period at the airport, which I think is too little, but don't say anything. The driver is half an hour late, and we miss our flight. My sister cries a little from the stress, so I manage the process of getting us transfered to another flight and getting our bags checked. The new flights are not bad, and the new seats in the exit row on each flight give us much more footroom.
When we get back to MA, my parent's car has been towed from my sister's street, and her wonderful boyfriend goes to get it while we wait in her apartment after taking a cab from the airport. We discuss how awesome her boyfriend is.
Thursday, may 7th
I go to class in a haze, and actually feel lost and sad. I'm not sure if it's sleep deprivation, the incredible pollen that burst into bloom while I was away, or actual grief. I am unprepared for classes but my teachers are all nice about it. I only throw up before my Greek class, and stay away from coffee all day to feel better. I barely keep from crying in my Latin class; we are reading the part of the Aeneid where Aeneas meets his father Anchises in the afterlife. Anchises greets his son with "venisti tandem?" "Have you finally come?" This seems to me to be incredibly sad, but I really really like it.
Friday may 8th.
My last German class. I give a completely halfassed presentation which my professor kindly refrains from picking apart. I think he's impressed that I'm even presenting at all. This is the first of my last classes.
Saturday I allow myself to recover a little.
Sunday is Mother's day. I go to church with my family, where my mom is a bit frazzled and everyone is very kind to her. I give her a book on Gandhi and Churchill's rivalry, and she is very appreciative. I feel like a mildly competent daughter.
Monday May 11th
The last Latin class. No crying.
May 1, 2009- Friday
Early morning: My mother discovers my maternal grandmother's body in her parlor. Grammie seems to have died the previous evening. Around her on the couch are a cold cup of tea, a trashy romance novel, her knitting, and her dog curled up beside her.
8.50: I am taking my last Ancient Greek test, for which I am underprepared. I get a call halfway thru from my father, but don't pick it up, and turn my phone off. I complete the test. (I got a C.)
9.45: Five minutes before my German class, my younger brother, who lives at home and helped my mother deal with the EMT's and coroner earlier that morning, calls me to tell me Grammie died. I go to class, bluster my way through discussions of my fellow students' presentations, and wonder if I am going to throw up. At the break of the three hour class, I call my mom and ask her if there is anything I should be doing. There isn't really, but she wants me to come home.
3pm: I blow off my last class of the day, and my brother drives me home. I think that I have ludicrously overpacked for a weekend at home, but Billy tells me that while we are holding calling hours/wake for Grammie in Massachusetts, her funeral will be in California with Grammie's other daughter and grandchildren, and the cousins that have lived in California since the dawn of time.
4pm: The hours is weird and still and uncomfortable, and I am mildly freaking out because my mom is so sad. People keep calling and I just want to take the phone off the hook. The three kids don't have much to do, and end up hanging out with each other for most of the time. We run various errands and figure out what's happening after the calling hours on Sunday. I find out I'm actually going to California. A friend of my mom (also a female priest) does a prayer out of the Book of Common Prayer that I have memorized to say for when I die. It's a nice prayer, and it gets better with repetition. This is the first of four times I hear it over the next week or so.
Saturday May 2
My dad takes my brother and sister out to buy something appropriate to wear. I don't want to go, and don't. Mom and I take Grammie's dog to the vet to get it looked at before it can fly to California to live with my aunt, who originally owned the dog. The wait is long, and the dog is freaked out, and I start to cry a bit because I hate it when dogs are sad and scared.
Sunday, May 3rd
The calling hours are really well attended by people from my mom's church (she works there)- a number of them knew Grammie personally from when she would go to church. We kids set up a little table at the funeral home with photos of Grammie at various stages of life, and her family, and her knitting projects. The tone is one of sadness and relief: there is a lot of chatting and hugging and people making sure that we're okay. I feel pretty well loved, actually. Wakes are nice. We read for the second time the prayer I like.
My mother has given my grandmother a spinning wheel pin and a little toy lamb made of wool and wood to be buried in. My grandmother is not wearing lipstick, which is noticeably uncharacteristic. The embalming process had made her tissue feel oddly firm and dry and cold, but her skin feels the same if you just lay your hand lightly on it. Her hair feels exactly the same. A friend of my mother's, who nursed her own mother through long ill-health in my childhood, tells my mother "Well done, my good and faithful servant." My mom cries and feels like she did well by her mom.
Monday, May 4th,
Damned early: We fly to California with a stop over. My siblings and I sit together on the first half of the flight and goof off, but there is a slightly uncomfortable tone. My mom and dad sit together. My mom looks deeply out of it- she's just following the leader and she keeps holding my dad's hand a lot.
California is dry and bright and unpleasant, like always.
Tuesday, May 5th
I'm going to skip talking about this, tho I may go into more later. The funeral was very good- sweet and sad and heartfelt. Arrangements go as they should- my mom gives a eulogy that is distracted and heartfelt and loving. My brother, my cousin Tom, and I all read something out of the bible: all the music and passages were chosen by my grandmother and my mom several months ago, and there is a nice feeling of completion knowing that we were doing things that Grammie wanted and liked.
Wednesday, may 6th
Getting back to MA with my brother and sister gives me a good working definition of a clusterfuck. My aunt allotted us only an hour's grace period at the airport, which I think is too little, but don't say anything. The driver is half an hour late, and we miss our flight. My sister cries a little from the stress, so I manage the process of getting us transfered to another flight and getting our bags checked. The new flights are not bad, and the new seats in the exit row on each flight give us much more footroom.
When we get back to MA, my parent's car has been towed from my sister's street, and her wonderful boyfriend goes to get it while we wait in her apartment after taking a cab from the airport. We discuss how awesome her boyfriend is.
Thursday, may 7th
I go to class in a haze, and actually feel lost and sad. I'm not sure if it's sleep deprivation, the incredible pollen that burst into bloom while I was away, or actual grief. I am unprepared for classes but my teachers are all nice about it. I only throw up before my Greek class, and stay away from coffee all day to feel better. I barely keep from crying in my Latin class; we are reading the part of the Aeneid where Aeneas meets his father Anchises in the afterlife. Anchises greets his son with "venisti tandem?" "Have you finally come?" This seems to me to be incredibly sad, but I really really like it.
Friday may 8th.
My last German class. I give a completely halfassed presentation which my professor kindly refrains from picking apart. I think he's impressed that I'm even presenting at all. This is the first of my last classes.
Saturday I allow myself to recover a little.
Sunday is Mother's day. I go to church with my family, where my mom is a bit frazzled and everyone is very kind to her. I give her a book on Gandhi and Churchill's rivalry, and she is very appreciative. I feel like a mildly competent daughter.
Monday May 11th
The last Latin class. No crying.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-05-15 05:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 01:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 09:04 am (UTC)*hugs*
no subject
Date: 2009-05-18 01:40 pm (UTC)I'll be thinking about and praying for you and your family.