an almost happy ending

This post is a repeat from 7/14/07. I'm contemplating my first Mother's Day without my Grandma. She died last summer at 93. And had quite the life. I am so fortunate to have had a Grandmother for 42 years. So many of my dear friends have struggled with the loss their moms and grandmothers, and other dear women in their lives - I am thinking of you all this weekend.

I bought this kitschy barkcloth for my tearoom. It was a tablecloth that I hung on the wall in my office. When the tearoom closed and I was faced with a ton of excess stuff, I tried to sell it on ebay (thus the scan of the fabric) but finally parted with it in May (2007), donating a ton of stuff to the Vets.

So, I'm cataloging Gramma's pix last night(and by that I mean dumping them on my bed and grabbing the oldest, best-est ones, and dumping the rest in a pretty, vintage suitcase). And I come across this pix of her. And in the background hanging on her kitchen door? MY same KITSCHY barkcloth. Gram never travelled up the steep stairs, so she never mentioned it. And even if she saw, would she have remembered it?

I will never, ever part with anything, ever again. I just realized it would have been smashing on the wall in the craft room. Off to drown my sorrows in some ice-cream. Neopolitan in her honor.

One less at tomorrow's dinner...

This is the first holiday without Gramm. Everything feels different... usually I'm in psycho mode of cleaning, shopping, baking, cooking but this year we're going to Sandra & Eric's house. No MIL or SIL visiting this year. Not even Vince. He's going to Caitlin's parents' house for Thanksgiving. No pies baking, no turkey thawing, no leftovers. It's soooo peaceful and quiet here at the moment - and for that I'm quite thankful.

I made this memory book last year, it keeps the recipes that I scramble for at the last minute and some special memories of Thanksgivings past:

Thanksgivings at my grandparent’s house in Cecil… the adults gathered at the dining room table and the kids and cooks were in the kitchen. The food was always buffet style at the island counter top, but due to the cramped quarters the women served the food (and barely ever sat down!). Papa’s spot was at the head of the table, of course.

It was usually the same group – Grandpap & Grandma - Mom, Dad, Kim, DeDe & me – Aunt DoDo & Uncle Buzzy, Donald & Michael – Auntie Ei & Sandra – some years Aunt Carol & Uncle Dom, Craig & Chris - Aunt Nini & Uncle Joe & his sister, and others. The list doesn’t seem so long now.

Family gatherings were such special occasions, and Thanksgiving was the prelude to Christmas, complete with the “Grab Bag Drawing” for Christmas day. The food was abundant but my memories are more of the excitement. When I close my eyes & remember – I can hear the voices, the laughter, the heated discussions, the telephone ringing, the general loudness – until the guys retired to the living room to nod off in front of the TV & yell at us kids to stop running. And the women took to the dishes, where they washed & dried and talked in bits & pieces - whispered or s-p-e-l-l-ed out their secrets & stories, and mingled over coffee, until the guys & kids were ready for dessert.

I wish you and yours a Thanksgiving filled with people you love. Kelley

Forever on Thanksgiving Day the heart will find the pathway home.

-Wilbur D. Nesbit

cemetery today

I can't pass by without stopping to see her. Just as I never drove by her house and didn't stop to say hello. Hoping the girls will understand and have peace today.

Orchids

Kim sent this arrangement of exotic orchids. When mom went to Donatis to order the flowers, they were told that someone (Kim!) had just purchased their entire stock for an arrangement. It's breath-taking. And still a week later, perfectly fresh.

Pictures of Mae

Some pages from the little album I made for Gramma's 90th birthday. She loved it & kept it beside her on her little desk in the living room. Mom gave it back to me this week. :(

why can't I cry?

It's over. Today was the last time I'll ever see her. I still couldn't cry, I got teary eyed but not the sorrowful tears I wanted for her. Am I just so relieved by her passing that I can't be sad too? Too drugged with Zoloft that I just can't do real emotions anymore? Am I at peace with her death?

Maybe I'm just numb. I feel like I'm moving under water. I had that surreal moment when I'd just passed the cemetary and realized that she was there. In a box. I managed to choke down the rising anxiety that engulfed me when Pappa died. I just kept driving and clenching the wheel. Thinking in slow motion. Quieting the hysterical thoughts of going to get her. And how inhumane it is to leave someone you love in a box on a hillside.

Tonight, I collapsed in the chair in front of the fan - the a/c decided to kick it again on the hottest days so far - low 90s and 83 at 11:45pm. Frank did the dishes. I wanted desperately to do something like creative like needlepoint or cross-stitch, nothing with paper - I wanted to feel the fabrics.

Instead I took a cool shower. So much for not being depressing anymore.

seasons in the sun

"good-bye my friend it's hard to die, when all the bird's are singing in the sky, now that the spring is in the air..."

My 70's childhood ran the soundtrack yesterday. Edited to add that I don't think that song is the least bit appropriate for an almost 93 year old woman dying. But my brain didn't agree. I was cleaning, no - more like attacking - the house yesterday. I dumped the books off the bookshelf in the family room and was putting everything back nice and neat. Need for order when life goes too far beyond my control. On 9/11 I remember cleaning the base boards for hours.

To the casual observer, the house was ransacked by some crazy woman. When Sandra called for me to come now, but to drive carefully, I thought "I can't. The house is a mess." Perhaps my way avoid the inevitable. I was in the shower when Kim called to tell me firmly that I should get going. Coordinating the whole thing from Arizona.

So, I raced a thunderstorm. Numb, no thoughts just that damn song running incessantly in my head. Feeling the need for tears but unable to cry. Tried to prepare the girls a little bit. They were fine once they knew that Brad & Leah would be there. Vince and Caitlin were coming home from Uniontown, stuck in rush hour traffic and racing the same storm.

When I got on Route 50, the girls started double daring the skattered raindrops "Is that all you can do? That's a sprinkle! Let's see some RAIN!" As I turned up the hill, the scent of wild onions, Pappa's wild onions that we used to stop and pick, hit me and the tears started. I passed the cemetary and the tears flowed. We pulled into the drive and raced to the door with the storm at our backs.

I arrived at 4:20 and she passed at 4:55. When I said that I knew Pappa was there as I'd smelled the wild onions passing the cemetary - she gave such a deep ragged breath that I jumped.

She was always terrified of lightening and thunder, but they gave her passing some real drama. Lightening, thunder, generators blowing, awnings flapping, torrential rain, power outage. She passed in the dusk with the back-up oxygen. Her breathing went from the ragged breaths to what I've read described as the death rattle and I know why. I hope to never hear it again and was suddenly thankful that Vince wouldn't hear that sound. She passed with her family at her side, in her bedroom, as we said the Hail Mary and Lord's Prayer. It was peaceful and quiet, she didn't struggle and looked at peace.

Mae Marie Monaco. My grandmother. Rest in peace.

Olivia Mae broke my heart

I held it together all day. Getting the room ready for the hospital bed, making dinner, cleaning Mom's house, fielding about 50 calls. Busy, busy, busy.

At bedtime, after their books, I thanked the girls for being so well behaved today, especially when Pappy & I were getting the room ready and talking to the guy about the hospital bed.

Liv said with a smile, "when she gets better, we'll give it back". So proud of herself at thinking it through.

Breaking my heart.

the strongest woman I know

Gramm is continuing to be the strongest woman I've ever known. Today at the hospital was a totally different scene. She was asleep or maybe the morphine is knocking her out, it isn't a peaceful sleep btw. But I sat and stroked her hand. She tried to focus on me and the girls. I was selfish. I wanted them to be there, just few a few minutes. I wanted her to know they were there. I can't tell you the number of times she said how much life they brought to the house when they visited. Vince called about coming home. I wish I had the answers for him. He's at Caitlin's house in Uniontown and it's about a 4hour round trip to come home for her dad. He mentioned how we just got there in the final moments when Pappa passed.

She's not eating. Aunt Do was force feeding her mom said. Not while I was there. It wouldn't have happened. So, it will be just days I guess. Yes, she's given up. I'm in awe of her once again - the strength of those who survived the depression and were never the same. She's doing what I'd want to do at the end of such a long and full life, she's leaving us. Sad for us. Hard for us.

pbjs

Whelp, I've been a slacker. My hand's been bothering me all week and it really zaps me. I have to favor it, and limit what I can do. What a tedious hassle. And, at first so painful that I can see stars when I hit it wrong.

And, it has been a pretty sucky week. Gramm ended up in the hospital. The cancer is stage 4 in her bones, causing the broken ribs. We all knew this was coming. But it still takes you a bit by surprise. Just weeks ago, she seemed like herself. And then it all started slipping away. Bit by bit. Even Vince said when he got a private number call at 11pm last week, he thought it was me and news about her. So, everyone is squabbling. The family with each other. The family with the nurses and doctors. Yes, she needs tests. Painful, ridiculous tests. But, they've got what they needed to know now they just need to get her a bit better and send her home. Dad and I cleaned her room, threw away the old sheets, moved all the furniture to accommodate the wheelchair. I would like for her to come home. If only for her to die peacefully there. No more tests. She will need to go to a home for rehabilitation first. There's just no way around it. Kim's frustrated. I just get the big pix info. She wants details. And then, no matter what I say, she gets defensive or mad. I hate when those who have physically or emotionally left the family offer last minute lifeboats or second guess the rest of us. Pu-lease. I went today and mom & dad had ice cream with the girls in the gift shoppe. I tried to show them the windows of the maternity ward but couldn't get to it. Liv said she didn't remember that :D Cathrynn remembered that there were lots of windows when Liv was born. When Vince was little he used to say "remember when I was born and they put me on the table, and the walls were green..." after a while he forgot about it. I still wonder if he did really remembered his birth, if anyone could've it 's V. So, as this not so good week closes, I'm a bit misty eyed over life. Death. Birth.

I took V and Caitlin a care package of Pepperidge Farms brown sugar & cinnamon bread, creamy pbutter and peach jam, ramen, pop & $40. They were thrilled. That was some good pbj I'll bet... Was supposed to be my breakfast, but those college kids need it more than I do anyday, anyway.

Sweet pbjs.

Crochet. Learn.

Some of my earliest memories of my Gramma are of her telling everyone who would listen that she never wanted to die and to make sure everyone kept her going by whatever means necessary.

It seems the request was honored in too many ways. Not many of the people she thought would be making the decision are still around. She's buried Papa, her eldest daughter, all but one of her siblings & their spouses, and most of her friends. She'll be 93 on August 1st.

She was doing so well until last summer. The breast cancer was back after 17 years. She was as fiesty as ever - "I'll fight it for 17 more years" . She doesn't know but I prayed that she'd die peacefully so she wouldn't have to live through a masectomy. How would she survive that?We're busty women afterall. She did quite well actually. She is old depression era hearty stock - a real survivor. I also prayed she'd die when Auntie Ei died. Surely she'd never make it through that funeral. But she did. It made her more frail though. Her light went out a bit right then.

And here we are. Battles over bed sores. What is right? Who is right? Fights. Bickering. Cursing. Threats. Lift chairs. Pain patches. Motorized chair?

It seems unfair that shingles, a virus, would strip her of her dignity and health. The cancer didn't.

I have a lump in my throat & when the phone has mom's ring, I steady myself. Let it be peaceful & soon is my only wish. Let it be over. A nursing home will kill her. The decision is looming.

I never learned to crochet. I had time I guess. It never seemed like it but now I know that I never will, how could I possibly let someone else teach me???

Frank won't listen to me say that she's not doing well. It seems I've been saying that for the last 10 years. Well, I think it's true now.