I woke up this morning feeling like I'd never really gone to sleep (although I did). I was immediately aware of where I was and what I'm doing here. It was a pretty sad awakening but I was glad Edward was lying next to me. His comfort and support have meant the absolute world to me on this trip.
We rounded up the troops and headed down to Gram's bank to deal with account issues, wills and safety deposit boxes. Afterwards, we went back to her house to sort through more things and work on funeral arrangements.
It was strange to be in her house. It smelled like her. It felt like her. And it seemed almost unbelievable that she would never again sit at her kitchen table to do a crossword puzzle. The table and chairs were still askew from where the paramedics worked on her (she was at her kitchen table when the stroke occurred). There were wadded up paper towels on the floor and I saw the vent that caused two lacerations on the side of her head when she fell.
Mom asked me to look through drawers, closets and clothes in search of anything she might have hidden. The family has decided to display a variety of pictures at her service so I was to look for any pictures that might be appropriate for that. I also picked out things that I thought she might want to go with her - the bible from Grandpa's funeral and the framed picture of her and I from my wedding (I know she loved that picture of us).
It was morbidly fascinating to sort through her things. There were times when I got caught up in looking through old cards and costume jewelry only to suddenly remember what I was really doing. I found that Gram had saved every single school picture that was ever taken of me (Edward took one of which he was particularly fond). She had enough pantyhose and knee-highs to clothe an entire nursing home. She had many packages of brand new items that had never been opened. I'm guessing this was Depression-era thinking.
I found pages and pages of phone numbers of people she'd never mentioned. Mom commented at dinner tonight that she knew a lot more people than we thought. It is starting to look like Grandma actually had a much more social and active life than the one she described.
My uncle's wife and I picked out an outfit for Gram to wear. We had to keep running from the bedroom to the front door because it's always so dark in Gram's house. We bustled around trying to find the perfect outfit. Would she want a skirt? Or slacks? We finally settled on a white and navy blue pantsuit. There were yet more decisions. Jewelry? Underwear? Do dead people wear underwear? We agreed on jewelry and some hopefully appropriate underclothing. When I was younger, I sometimes helped Gram pick out outfits, but this was another experience entirely.
I needed a short break so I sat on the stoop with J for a while. I'll always remember Gram waving to us from that stoop every time we left her house. Every time. Today is probably the last day I'll ever spend at her house.
Most of the family left for the funeral home to make the final arrangements. J and I were on our way back to Mom's place when I remembered the sculpture park. I spent a lot of time there when I was in high school and I wanted to enjoy part of day outside in the sunshine. As we arrived, it occured to me that I'd also gone there after my great-grandma passed away. I suppose it's a place of comfort and familiarity for me.
Despite the depressive nature of the morning, our afternoon at the park was rather enjoyable. The sculptures are pretty awesome and not unlike things you'd see at Burning Man. The sun was shining and there was a cool breeze... gorgeous weather. Being there with Edward really helped me decompress from the grim tasks earlier in the day.
I stuck to my guns about not attending the funeral. My mom was disappointed (she changed her mind from yesterday) but she does understand. I'm not entirely sure that anyone else understands why I'm not going but that's not important. Gram and I had our time and as far as I'm concerned, that's enough. What anyone else thinks about my absence is their problem.
I've surprised myself with how well I've handled this. I've certainly shed my fair share of tears, but I'm not the walking mess that I expected to be (or maybe I just took care of that Saturday and Sunday). I think it's fair to say the grief process has begun. I keep running across old pictures of Grandma - she looks so vibrant and alive. Even after the last two days, I still almost expect her to come into the room and ask what all the fuss is about.
I forget who it was that said death is the grand leveler, but I have to agree. This experience has definitely put me in touch with my own mortality. I already work hard at surrounding myself with positive and rewarding relationships and this is yet another reminder that life really IS short. I will work even harder to make every day count. As Mom always says... there are no guarantees in life - eat dessert first. Amen.
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