Death, Acne, Schapps, and Cards
Things I was thinking about in the car to and from my grandmother's (nana to me) funeral in Florida on Friday:
1. Why does stress have to cause acne? I mean, really, when I am stressed out, the last thing I need is a congregation of zits announcing my distress to the rest of the world. When my grandfather died I got a huge, I mean huge, zit right above my eye lid. It was so big it impeded my vision and throbbed constantly. After the zit left a few weeks after his funeral, my upper eye lid drooped for about a year. I still have a scar to remember that momentous event in my life. This time, my cheeks have exploded with painful, ichy uber zits. The kind that make my husband, the kind and compassionate man that he is, say, "Oh my goodness, I have never seen a zit like that. It is like a huge zit colony. That is the biggest zit I have ever seen." Of course, that was when I only had one uber zit. It was lonely, though, and invited multiple friends. I guess they also wanted to tag along to my nana's funeral. I guess I can't fault them for wanting to go to such a fine lady's funeral, but I am vain, doggone it! The thought of seeing a bunch of people I haven't seen in a while while my face is covered with oozing sores is not appealing. Plus, to me more zits equals more make-up (I know that this increases the problem, but again, I am vain), and when you are crying and people (strange people) are hugging you and telling you that your grandmother is in a better place, you don't need to have extra make-up on. I have left my mark on many a funeral suit lapel and funeral appropriate dress.
2. Why does stress have to cause stomach upset? Again, the last thing needed at a funeral is stomach cramps. Especially when your face is oozing, you are trying really hard to harmonize with your father while tears are choking the literal snot out of you, and all eyes are sympathetically on you and your family. Thank goodness I did yoga three times last year. That deep breathing stuff really works. At least, it kept me from spending time at a funeral home's bathroom when I was supposed to be mourning and comforting my family.
3. Death is a really weird thing. One moment you are here; the next moment gone. Or in my nana's case you have a long, Alzheimer's ridden goodbye. But it still seems like she was taken quickly. Yet logically I know that she was truly gone a long time ago. That nana clinging to a doll named Suzie and staring glassy eyed at the wall and sometimes me was not my nana--but then again, wasn't it her? How horrible of me to only accept one incarnation of my nana. How horrible of me to say that one part of her life was more valuable than another. People keep telling me to "Remember the happy memories," but weren't the sad ones part of her and my life together too? Sometimes you serve others and sometimes you need to be served. In the last part of my nana's life, she needed to be taken care of, to be served. And you know what? I think that was just as valuable. I am glad I had the opportunity to clean her house, clean the blood up off the floor when she cut her arm, listen to my mom "vent" on the phone about her stress. Before Alzheimer's, Nana never would let me lift a finger in her house. She took perfect care of me, my father, my papaw, and my mother. It was time for us to give back. It was time for us to see the needy nana, and you know what, I love that nana too, and I want to remember that nana too.
4. Hospice is wonderful. Let me say it again, "Hospice is wonderful." My nana had a home care provider named Valerie who was sent directly from God. So I guess I should also say, "God is wonderful." "God is wonderful." When you step back and think about how he has worked through other people to provide for your needs, it is incredibly awe inspiring and humbling. Valerie was assigned to take care of my nana's basic needs, but she took care of my entire family. She convinced my papaw that it was time for nana to rest in bed and no longer get up, she did his laundry and apparently, according to him, expertly folded his underwear, she taught us how to talk to and touch nana so that her last days would be as comfortable as possible, and she came to the viewing, the funeral, and lunch after the funeral. And most importantly to me, she told me how my nana died and how my papaw reacted. I have never seen someone so expertly lead a family through grief. God has truly blessed her.
5. My uncle Jerry is a drinker. I thought he just liked "the ladies." I also just thought he was old and that is why at the viewing he kept saying, "I was ten when your papaw and nana got married. You know what I thought, how is my ugly older brother getting to marry such a pretty lady" to me over and over. I had no idea he had "had a few." Amazing! My papaw wistfully said, "I guess he will always like his Schnapps." I wanted to ask at the time, "What is Schnapps?" but I thought the better of it.
6. My papaw is a fabulous card player. He asked if Brad knew how to play euchre, and Brad said, "A little bit." I piped up and said, "I love playing cards. It is so much fun." Papaw, in one of his moments of hilarity, said, "I don't play for fun. Card playin' is serious business. This is the way I play (with a gleam in his eyes he pantomimed holding his cards close to his vest while he had a cross look on his face) I can't handled those people who say, 'Hmmm, which card should I play, ' (again, with a gleam in his eyes he pantomimed a slow moving player)." I then asked him to teach me euchre. He said, "No way. That would make the game to slow. I don't have to patience for that." And he doesn't. He did let me, however, sit behind him how he played, and he took great joy in showing me how he could control the table, and in essence, teaching me how to play. It will be a memory I will cherish forever. My crochity(sp) papaw smack talking the other players at the table and relishing each time he could take cards from my uncle Steve (Schnapps free as far as I know).
So my nana's dead. She passed away. Her suffering is over. She has gone home. All I have left are memories, two really great rings, a really cool fly ashtray, and some charms from her travels around the world. But you know, that really is a whole lot. Thank you, God, for allowing me to have a fabulous nana who loved me to the moon and back. I guess you can have her, but man I am going to miss her. I am so glad you two knew each other so well. And I am glad she introduced you to the rest of my family. I guess she left me with that too, an inheritance of faith.
Poem about my nana forthcoming (when I can, like David, wash my face and face the brightness of the day after the mourning).
1. Why does stress have to cause acne? I mean, really, when I am stressed out, the last thing I need is a congregation of zits announcing my distress to the rest of the world. When my grandfather died I got a huge, I mean huge, zit right above my eye lid. It was so big it impeded my vision and throbbed constantly. After the zit left a few weeks after his funeral, my upper eye lid drooped for about a year. I still have a scar to remember that momentous event in my life. This time, my cheeks have exploded with painful, ichy uber zits. The kind that make my husband, the kind and compassionate man that he is, say, "Oh my goodness, I have never seen a zit like that. It is like a huge zit colony. That is the biggest zit I have ever seen." Of course, that was when I only had one uber zit. It was lonely, though, and invited multiple friends. I guess they also wanted to tag along to my nana's funeral. I guess I can't fault them for wanting to go to such a fine lady's funeral, but I am vain, doggone it! The thought of seeing a bunch of people I haven't seen in a while while my face is covered with oozing sores is not appealing. Plus, to me more zits equals more make-up (I know that this increases the problem, but again, I am vain), and when you are crying and people (strange people) are hugging you and telling you that your grandmother is in a better place, you don't need to have extra make-up on. I have left my mark on many a funeral suit lapel and funeral appropriate dress.
2. Why does stress have to cause stomach upset? Again, the last thing needed at a funeral is stomach cramps. Especially when your face is oozing, you are trying really hard to harmonize with your father while tears are choking the literal snot out of you, and all eyes are sympathetically on you and your family. Thank goodness I did yoga three times last year. That deep breathing stuff really works. At least, it kept me from spending time at a funeral home's bathroom when I was supposed to be mourning and comforting my family.
3. Death is a really weird thing. One moment you are here; the next moment gone. Or in my nana's case you have a long, Alzheimer's ridden goodbye. But it still seems like she was taken quickly. Yet logically I know that she was truly gone a long time ago. That nana clinging to a doll named Suzie and staring glassy eyed at the wall and sometimes me was not my nana--but then again, wasn't it her? How horrible of me to only accept one incarnation of my nana. How horrible of me to say that one part of her life was more valuable than another. People keep telling me to "Remember the happy memories," but weren't the sad ones part of her and my life together too? Sometimes you serve others and sometimes you need to be served. In the last part of my nana's life, she needed to be taken care of, to be served. And you know what? I think that was just as valuable. I am glad I had the opportunity to clean her house, clean the blood up off the floor when she cut her arm, listen to my mom "vent" on the phone about her stress. Before Alzheimer's, Nana never would let me lift a finger in her house. She took perfect care of me, my father, my papaw, and my mother. It was time for us to give back. It was time for us to see the needy nana, and you know what, I love that nana too, and I want to remember that nana too.
4. Hospice is wonderful. Let me say it again, "Hospice is wonderful." My nana had a home care provider named Valerie who was sent directly from God. So I guess I should also say, "God is wonderful." "God is wonderful." When you step back and think about how he has worked through other people to provide for your needs, it is incredibly awe inspiring and humbling. Valerie was assigned to take care of my nana's basic needs, but she took care of my entire family. She convinced my papaw that it was time for nana to rest in bed and no longer get up, she did his laundry and apparently, according to him, expertly folded his underwear, she taught us how to talk to and touch nana so that her last days would be as comfortable as possible, and she came to the viewing, the funeral, and lunch after the funeral. And most importantly to me, she told me how my nana died and how my papaw reacted. I have never seen someone so expertly lead a family through grief. God has truly blessed her.
5. My uncle Jerry is a drinker. I thought he just liked "the ladies." I also just thought he was old and that is why at the viewing he kept saying, "I was ten when your papaw and nana got married. You know what I thought, how is my ugly older brother getting to marry such a pretty lady" to me over and over. I had no idea he had "had a few." Amazing! My papaw wistfully said, "I guess he will always like his Schnapps." I wanted to ask at the time, "What is Schnapps?" but I thought the better of it.
6. My papaw is a fabulous card player. He asked if Brad knew how to play euchre, and Brad said, "A little bit." I piped up and said, "I love playing cards. It is so much fun." Papaw, in one of his moments of hilarity, said, "I don't play for fun. Card playin' is serious business. This is the way I play (with a gleam in his eyes he pantomimed holding his cards close to his vest while he had a cross look on his face) I can't handled those people who say, 'Hmmm, which card should I play, ' (again, with a gleam in his eyes he pantomimed a slow moving player)." I then asked him to teach me euchre. He said, "No way. That would make the game to slow. I don't have to patience for that." And he doesn't. He did let me, however, sit behind him how he played, and he took great joy in showing me how he could control the table, and in essence, teaching me how to play. It will be a memory I will cherish forever. My crochity(sp) papaw smack talking the other players at the table and relishing each time he could take cards from my uncle Steve (Schnapps free as far as I know).
So my nana's dead. She passed away. Her suffering is over. She has gone home. All I have left are memories, two really great rings, a really cool fly ashtray, and some charms from her travels around the world. But you know, that really is a whole lot. Thank you, God, for allowing me to have a fabulous nana who loved me to the moon and back. I guess you can have her, but man I am going to miss her. I am so glad you two knew each other so well. And I am glad she introduced you to the rest of my family. I guess she left me with that too, an inheritance of faith.
Poem about my nana forthcoming (when I can, like David, wash my face and face the brightness of the day after the mourning).
posted by Jami | 8:18 PM
2 Comments:
Jami -- I love you dearly, and I love to read your writing. Thank you for sharing this . . . I should also say, as a participant, that all of this is exactly true as I remember it. Especially the part about your uncle Steve and I getting our pants handed to us at euchre by your Papaw.
That is one crotchety old man.
Excuse me, one crotchety old man that I now owe twenty bucks. (Right bower, left bower, who can remember?)
ah the zits thing finally explains why u relate to us kids so well.
Post a Comment
<< Home