Aug. 15th, 2017

gurdymonkey: (Default)

Dear Mom,

I woke up this morning three hours before my alarm went off with a sinus headache. I took something for it, drank some water and tried to get some rest before it was time to go off to work.

Elaine tells me you and she were texting back and forth about then. She said she was feeling great, planning on going for a walk, paying her bills and calling her phone company. She also tells me you died. Heart attack. She told me that 20 minutes into my work day.

We all know that's how you wanted to go, having a good day, not knowing what hit you. Not a bad way to go. Wouldn't mind that for myself, if I have to think about it.

Angela insisted I waste a perfectly good personal day and go home, even though I won't know when to book a flight for until Miriam and Elaine and meet with the funeral home tomorrow and I have an idea when I need to come see you. What a waste. That's a personal day I might have been able to tack on my three lousy days of bereavement leave. I could've kept busy and been productive and held it together for eight hours. Instead I was faced with construction noise and alternate side parking at home- so I did a grocery run, made a bank deposit, then went back to the apartment and fired up the laptop so I could at least approve office supply orders.  I did some reading. It occurred to me I down own any black tops that aren't tee shirts, so I went to Uniqlo. Hated everything and bought something anyway. At least it was on sale. 

You taught me about being practical and responsible, so I'm trying to do that. I've informed Angela that I will go to work tomorrow and let her know what my plans are when I know what we're doing with you.

I lit a candle instead of incense, because it's you. I hate martinis, but I'm enjoying a Bushmill's with ginger beer, because I'm outta limes and tonic water. Staffan is keeping me "company" via text right now. He offered dinner and a blanket fort, but I'd be crap company right now and he has his own struggles. You'd like him. He's a smartass. Might lean on him later if I need to, but this is still so new, I'm not sure how I feel. I haven't cried yet, not really. You know me, deal with the crisis, save the meltdown for when it's all over.

84 years old, living your life on your own terms, puttering in your garden. Close enough to family, but independent enough to do your own thing.

I heard a thing on the news about the upcoming solar eclipse and it took me back to that night in Minneapolis you woke me up in the middle of the night and let me sit by an open window in the freezing cold to watch a lunar eclipse. Dissecting a chicken heart to show me the chambers. Taking me for riding lessons and then starting yourself and becoming Barn Mom for a whole herd of kids, including the overgrown kid that was our trainer.  God, those three day drives from Minneapolis to Pottstown with three small kids rattling around a Nova station wagon. Your grocery-bag-and-crepe-paper pinatas for birthday parties.

I am who I am because of you. My eyes have burned a bit today, but the crying hasn't come yet. Maybe tomorrow, maybe later in the week. Maybe not at all.

It's going to take a while to get used to this, a world without you. But I know you. Get on with my life, be strong, smart, useful. Do what I can to make things better, whatever that may -

Crap. I have to let people know I can't teach this weekend.

Right. Onward. I'll see you off properly later.

Love you forever, Mom.



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