In memory

A lot has happened since I last posted.  On April 20th, my grandfather, for whom Wild Man is named, died, just a few months shy of his 89th birthday. While his death was not unexpected, it was still shocking.  While I'm happy he is no longer missing my grandmother, who died 2 1/2 years ago, I am sad he is gone.  He was one of the few people I firmly believed loved me unconditionally.  Our relationship was easy.  He placed no demands on me.  He was just my grandfather.  He was always happen to see me and thrilled when I called him.  I was born on his birthday, and for that reason, I think we always shared a special bond. 

He was a coal miner for more than 30 years, so I wanted to share this image of him.  I don't associate him with the mines, as I knew a very different side of him.  I still think this image captures him as I remember him best, smiling, relaxed, calm.  He was a wonderful person, and I miss him very much.

Curtains

So I'm contemplating ordering some curtains for my kitchen.  Actually a friend from Southwest College Town is starting up a sewing business, and she has offered to make some curtains for me for what I think is a really reasonable price.  Now I'm just trying to decide on fabric.  I like this one, this one,  and this one.  For some reason I want birds for the kitchen, and Archer assures me that isn't odd.  Is that because he's a good husband or because of what he does for a living?  Ultimately, our kitchen will have white cabinets and will be painted a butter yellow with blue accents (at least, that is the kitchen of my dreams), so I think these fabrics will work.

Dreaming of fabrics is a new thing for me.  I wonder if I'm actually nesting.  I've never done that before--yes, I've cleaned and organized prior to the birth of each of my children, but more because, well, it needed to be done, not because I had some overwhelming, uncontrollable desire to do it.  I really just want to redecorate the house though, not nest.  We've been here for 9 months, and it still doesn't feel like ours.    I'm thinking new curtains for the kitchen and a coat (or four) will help.

Anger

As I wrote a few days ago, I'm still processing my grandmother's death.  I'm angry about a lot of things.  Namely I'm angry that I always have to be the adult.  In my immediate family, meaning my parents and my two siblings, I'm the youngest (that's right, I'm the youngest), but in so many ways I'm the adult.  I'm the one who tells people to go to the doctor; I'm the to help my parents figure out how to hire a good contractor; and I'm the one my niece and nephew turn to when they are concerned about their mother's health. 

When everything was going down with my gram, I was the one to tell my mom to get in the car and go so she could say good-bye, and I'm the one who called my sister to say, "Look, you're the closest one out of our family.  Get your ass there now."  For once my sister listened.  My mom delayed, waiting on her sister-in-law to drive through Home State and pick her up.  Thus, my mom didn't make it to the hospital until half an hour before my gram was taken off the ventilator.  (On some level, I do get this.  My mom was hoping if she stayed away my gram would get better, as she has in the past.  On another level, I'm pissed that my mom delayed, forcing her youngest sister to make the decision to end life support without my mother's input.). 

I'm also angry at my mom's oldest sister for not stepping up and following my gram's wishes more closely.  My grandmother never wanted to be put on life support.  In fact, she had a living will--she'd had one for well over a decade.  The circumstances necessitated that she be put on life support as paramedics found her not breathing.  As soon as it became clear she has suffered major brain damage, everyone should have agreed, including my mom's oldest sister, that Gram be taken off life support once my grandfather and their four children (my mom and her three siblings) had time to say good-bye.  My aunt disagreed.  In fact, she argued with my mom's youngest sister (Aunt S), who is a nurse and had medical power-of-attorney.  She refused to return to the hospital the night we took my gram off life support until Aunt S told her she was taking her off life support with or without the oldest aunt there.  She then showed up and behaved very, very strangely (yes, even strangely for someone about to watch her mother die).  So, in the end, it became a case of the youngest being forced to be the most responsible.

Finally, I'm pissed at my dad who refused to come to the funeral.  Yes, you read that right.  Apparently, my parents didn't have anyone to watch their cats.  Yes, again, you read that right.  My dad tried to get my brother to stay, but he refused.  And frankly, damn right he did.  J wanted to say good-bye to his grandmother and attend her funeral.  My parents couldn't come up with a single other person to take care of their cats.  And because this all happened on the weekend they couldn't board them (or so they said).  When I heard this, I was speechless, literally.  And, as is my way, I tried to fix it.  I called Pita, who drives past my parent's neighborhood every day on her way to work, and asked her to take care of the cats.  She immediately agreed, so I called my dad back.  He wasn't happy I interfered, but he said that was fine.  He'd leave with my mom.  Pita called Archer a half an hour later to say she'd talked to my dad and that he told her he and my mom had discussed it.  He wouldn't be going.  I called my dad again.  He said it was settled.  I said point blank, "You will be expected to be there.  Grandpa will want you there.  Mom will want you there.  I need you there."  He didn't say anything, so I said, "You know, Dad, I don't ask you for much, but I'm asking you for this.  I need you to be there."  He said, "Ok, M, I'll be there.  Have Pita call me again."  Then he hung up on me.  Archer called Pita again, and she called my dad.  She called back about 15 minutes later.  She told Archer, "He said he didn't need me. He's not going."  I haven't spoken to my father since. 

For me, this is the ultimate refusal.  I told my father as clearly as I could that I needed him.  I get that this isn't about me.  I get that my dad has some health issues that make it difficult for him to travel.  I get that death is hard.  I get all of that.  But I also know that I've lived in Canada for 3 years, and my father still doesn't have a passport.  Bear was in the hospital when he was 4 weeks old, and my father couldn't come to help or to see him because he doesn't have a passport.  I've lived away from Home State for 12 years, and my father has been to visit me in my own home 3 times, one of which was when he helped me move when I started working on my Master's degree.  He's seen Wild Man about 6 times, and he's seen Bear twice.  And it isn't just me.  He hasn't seen my sister in over 2 years, and unless she makes it to Home State, she won't see him anytime soon. 

You see, attending my grandmother's funeral was about more than saying good-bye to my grandmother.  My entire family was together, save my sister's husband (who had only met my grandmother 2 times and didn't want to sacrifice his Thanksgiving with his daughters from his first marriage) and my dad.  This was the first time since 1990 all 10 of my grandparents' grandchildren were together.  This was the first time since 2007 my sister, brother, and I were together.  This was the first time my father would have seen all 4 of his grandchildren together.  And he stayed home to take care of my mom's cats.  He stayed home when I specifically asked him to come because I needed him.  This one is going to take a long, long time for me to get over.

Oh, and I really, really miss my grandmother.

My grandmother

My grandmother died on Monday morning.  She was 85 and had not been in the best of health; however, her death came as a bit of a shock.  On Friday evening, my aunt and uncle, with whom my grandparents live, took them out to dinner, at my grandmother's request.  When the returned home, my grandmother, who suffered from senility, complained of a headache and went to her room to change into her pajamas.  She passed out, and Aunt F went to her while my uncle called the paramedics.  They then called my other aunt, who is a cardiac care nurse, and she instructed Aunt F on how to administer CPR.  When the paramedics arrived, they had to intubate Gram, even though that is not something she would have wanted.  By late Saturday afternoon, it was apparent that Gram had suffered severe brain damage, likely due to being deprived of oxygen.  Ironically, her heart never stopped beating. 

Archer, the boys, and I left for the States on Sunday around 10:00 am.  By 8:30 Sunday night, I was sitting with my Gram, as I called her, holding her hand.  It was clear to me, however, that my Gram was not present, something my youngest aunt, Aunt S, wholeheartedly agreed with.  She had already discussed turning off Gram's ventilator with her siblings, including my mom, and they had all agreed, with deep reservations.  My mom arrived later that evening, around 10, and at mine and Aunt S's urging, my Gram was taken off the ventilator around 11:15 Sunday night, and she died at 5:50 Monday morning.  She was a great lady, who did not hesitate to tell you what she thought.  In fact, she strongly disapproved of many of my life choices, arguing that I didn't need to pursue my doctorate and that I needed to stay home with Wild Man and Bear.  As long as Archer had a good job, she argued there was no need for me to work, and certainly no need for me to be so educated, as she put it.  While she never hesitated to tell me these things, she also ended every conversation we had by saying, "I love you so much, M."  I know my Gram didn't approve of all my choices, but I never doubted how much she loved me and my boys.