February 13, 2006
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Well, it’s official–I’m an orphan!
God, that sounds sooo Charles Dickens–”Please, sir, may I have some more?” and all that. But my sister Alyce called at seven this morning to tell me that mom had finally died. Sunday, they took her off life support and put her on a morphine drip so she would at least die free from pain. Dunno if I’d want that–I guess I’ll find out in good time. Meanwhile, sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
I have this odd sense of dislocation, largely because this is all happening like 4,000 miles away. From time to time, my sisters expressed–I dunno–a sense of envy/resentment towards me, that I wasn’t there to help them deal with her. Mom had a very rough last five years or so, declining into depression and near-senility. She stopped cleaning her house, it was over-run with mice, and it is a wonder she didn’t burn the place down, lighting cigarettes and forgetting about them–there were burn marks all over the place.
I am lucky, I guess, in that she was still relatively hale and healthy when I last visited her. Instead of spending the time doing meaningful things with her, I mostly drank. That is just something I have to live with, another on the long tiresome list of things to forgive myself for. I kind of have to do that–if not, there is a minute possibility that some day I might just decide that I don’t deserve to be drug-free, and resume my old insane and self-destructive ways. That is not a viable option–as things stand now, I would rather die clean than live loaded. But I digress.
My biggest regret is that I never got around to asking her about her given names. “Syble Dee”–no one else in the family has those names–and I saw a family tree of ours going back hundreds of years when I was applying for tribal membership. The names are fraught with metaphysical and magickal significance. I know her mother had some telepathic ability, and she herself seemed preternaturally intuitive at times. I may get a chance to talk to her younger brother when he comes to Pennsylvania for the funeral. . . .
Still, it is kind of odd. I’ll be going along, doing this and that, and BAM! I think, shit–Mom’s dead.
I guess this is normal. I don’t know.
I have scant experience with normal.
Comments (4)
” I’ll be going along, doing this and that, and BAM! I think, shit–Mom’s dead.”
That’s exactly what happened to me for 6-12 months. I think a person’s mom is almost hard-wired into his brain.
I did have a conversation with your mother about her names. She said she didn’t know, and her mother never told her of there being any special significance to the names.
im sorry,, positive thoughts
You don’t know me, but I met your (wife?)SuSu in the midst of watching Xanga go insane with censorship possibilities. She is a very warm and articulate, intelligent lady. I plan to spend more time on her site. So, I followed the link here and spent a few moments reading. I will say that you seem worth reading as well. You won’t understand this, but you seem so normal that I might have to visit alot. Normal to me keep in mind is synonymous with REAL. Your life isn’t perfect, neither are you, and yet you speak straight talk and express your thoughts without wrappings of “oh woe is me”. I find that to be how us “Normal screwed up people” are. Gods, I just reread that and for an articulate writer myself, that was just bad writing..lol. Forgive me.
And this post about your mom. Well, it moved a long dead I thought ghost within me. I am sorry for your loss, I am sorry her last years weren’t so great. But she is resting now…somewhere. Funny how the ones we should be closest too, but are so far away from… how the thought of them will simply walk up when we aren’t looking and SMACK us in the head. Get used to that one dear, it will happen over and over again…but somehow it becomes comforting.
I hope you don’t mind my instrusion into your site. I wish for you a wonderful day and peaceful moments.
SA