A MONTH OUT

My mother has been dead for a month now. The days have been strange. I have done really well maintaining my composure in most instances. I learned well from Mama, we were always private mourners.

It is hitting home with me all the things I have lost. My mother was rarely critical of me, she should have been but she wasn't. She was proud of everything I did, everything I read or wrote, my opinions. Of course, our opinions were the same. I've lost being able to put my feet in her lap for them to be tickled or leaning my seat back in the truck for her to scratch my head. We had a kind of language, facial expressions, body language that all made communicating a private affair. She would drop everything to go on a road trip, we were lost most of the time, but it didn't matter.

Even though my family likes me, it's conditional. With my mother, it wasn't.

CHANGES

I've been thinking about the changes for me since mama died. The one that seems to giving me the most worry is that I won't ever have an unconditional relationship again. Mama liked me no matter what and no matter what I did, it didn't change anything for her concerning me. I get on everybody else's nerves, a lot of people disapprove of me in one way or another. I always knew that she would be fine with whatever I did, even if it was stupid. That's a big thing to lose.

CRASHING

I've been crashing in the oddest places. I am very good in the art of self control. I can usually put forth the attitude I intend for others to see but not always. Elizabeth and I stopped to eat at Waffle House on Monday. I had gotten a copy of the eulogy from Bob and took it in with me. I started to read it and had a total melt down, yes, right there in Waffle House.

More than once, I've been suddenly sad, driving down the road, for no particular reason, just sad. Once or twice, a smell has made me sad, and sounds.

My mother was in our house with us for a long time. Right after she died, I caught myself going in the book room to check on her or looking around the corner from the kitchen to see if she was ok in her chair. But already, I'm beginning to think of calling her at her house or running down to see her. Some mornings, it crosses my mind to call and just before I go to bed, I think of it. The last days of her life are the most removed from my memory. Not that I've forgotten or want to forget, I just remember earlier times with more urgency.

There are kittens in our basement, 4 of them. There were 6, but 2 went to Kitty Heaven. I had to cut one of the dead ones away from the live ones. Their cords were all dried together. Don't ask, it was strange. The 4 remaining ones are healthy and fat. And quite relieved, I'm sure.

TWO WEEKS

It's been two weeks since my mother died. Time is a strange thing, confusing and misleading. Time makes you think all is well or nothing will ever be well again.Time throws everything off. It zips right along just as if nothing has happened.

I knew my mother would die. She told us so just a few days earlier. But the main thing that told me she was thinking about dying was the way she started to bend her arm at the elbow and put it under her head. This was a clear sign.

I have never liked burials, especially leaving the casket sitting above ground while everybody leaves to go home. So I decided to do it differently. After the funeral we went to the cemetery, took our places and Bob read a short scripture with a prayer. The casket was then lowered into the ground, not a vault, but the dirt. I took a shovel, filled it, and threw the dirt into the open grave. The sound of the dirt hitting the casket was unlike anything I had ever heard before. The shovel was then passed to the rest of the family and anyone else who wanted to participate. Then the tent, chairs, fake grass were all removed and the gravediggers filled the grave and smoothed the dirt as best they could. We all went home.

It was a healing thing to me to stay until the burial was complete. I felt like I had finished taking care of my mother.

Now that two weeks have passed, I find it difficult to express my feelings. My mother and I were much alike, we mourn privately. I don't like for anyone to see me cry and go to great lengths to see that they don't. So most of my sadness has been by myself. My mother would have understood that.

AFTERWORDS

Since my mother's death, I have been with my Cousin Jane, which has helped me in so many ways. She will go home tomorrow, Janie will take her to meet Emily. I'm going to miss her.

Elizabeth is here for spring break, Olivia here tonight and she will probably be in and out later in the week. We all went to bed earlier, each one reading our own book. I love to read with them. Then we turned out the lights and I told them a story. They were soon asleep. But I had to get up to take my medicine. Now I can't sleep.


Olivia has been sad missing Mama. It is hard for her to understand. She spent a lot of time with her and now she has a lot of sadness.


Not many days before Mama died, she told us it was going to happen. It may have been the last time she was in her chair in the living room. She made a lot of jokes about dying but she wasn't joking this time. She was right.

More and more I'm wondering how it happened that I wasn't with her when she died. It was the first night in months that we had been gone. It was so important for Leah to have us at her recital. I've had several people tell me Mama waited for me to be gone before she died. But then I wonder if she died because she thought I wasn't coming back. But the important thing, she died with people who loved her and cared for her every need.

I think Mama had the perfect eulogy. Bob talked about all the things that were important, books, reading, family.He's sending me a copy, I'm anxious to read it.

Tomorrow I'm planning to blog about the cemetery.