July 23, 2022

A Son’s Eulogy to His Mother

It’s truly an overwhelming task to write a eulogy. One wants to pen something that encapsulates everything about that person. Their strengths, accomplishments, joys and what their presence meant to those around them. The thing that inevitably happens is it is filtered through the writer’s personal prism and one’s own experiences. As a result, some things get lost or not told at all because of limited knowledge. Or even worse it becomes about the author and how that person effected them. But My mother meant so much to so many people that, to do so, would be a great disservice to her memory. For that, more than anything, I don’t want to fail.

This is my 4th draft. Every time I write one I sit there thinking that it just isn’t good enough or that I’ve missed some crucial part of who she was. Like her undying faith in Christ, even at the very end. Or how she exemplified what it was to be a true Christian. My mother was someone who lived with an open heart and an open hand to to help all who crossed her path.

In one I tried so hard to focus on the fact that while she wanted to be a stay at home mom of 7 kids, like the wonderful woman from which she got her name, she got more than 7 instead. She got them in her nieces in nephews. From the moment they came into her sphere they were everything to her. She took them shopping, trips to theme parks, and was an ear to bend when they felt like no one was listening. And I couldn’t bare to leave out how at times, for some, was another parental figure. When life took very unexpected and cruel turns she moved into their homes to help care for them. Family was of the utmost importance to her. And to leave that out would have been a sin.

Then there was the draft where I talked about how her life didn’t turn out the way she had planned as a housewife. I tried focusing on the beauty that comes in the unexpected. Like when my father noticed her from across a bar. The two hadn’t been what the other was looking for but the two turned out to be just what the other needed. They complemented each other in the most beautiful broken symmetry. She wanted to be needed and he needed to be loved. I wanted so much to impart how much they each loved the other. Even when things seemed so rough. They held onto each other ever tighter and merged that brokenness into a whole.

And with each of these drafts I had to mention her dedication to her job. She started working at State Farm in 1964 and stayed there until she was forced into early retirement in 2005. She would have kept working to this day if she had had the opportunity. Her work gave her such a sense of importance and held so much of her identity. Even when words and thoughts were difficult for her to convey she would somehow manage to talk of her 40 years of work.

And then most importantly I could not leave out how much she had wanted me. But that one was difficult for me to write. I never could include that in any of my drafts. I felt like it took the spotlight away from her and onto me. But I know she wouldn’t have been upset at that, because I was what she had wanted. While I may not have turned out entirely as she had planned, her and my father both never missed an opportunity to tell me how much I was wanted. Or to share how much they loved me, how proud they were of my accomplishments and my sense of self.

But try as I may in each version of this eulogy I could not capture who my mother was. She was so much more than just anecdotes or bullet points. She was love made human. Any would have known that the moment they met her. She may have been shy, but it was only because her love was so great she was worried that it would be dismissed.

I will leave you with some of the words that inspired her:

1 Corinthians 13:4-7 says “love is patient, love is kind, it does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no records of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil  but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

July 13, 2022

The Soundtrack of My Life – 25 – Dream a Little Dream of Me

I am so far behind on these posts. I had finally caught up but then life got increasingly complicated.

We recently went on a road-trip to ultimately end up in Denver, Colorado, to see Chris Stapleton. This was my husband’s previous birthday gift. On the Thursday before the concert, and literally packing up our belongings to head to Denver from Rapid City, South Dakota, I got a call from my mother’s hospice nurse. In a calm tone she informed me that my mother was no longer able to swallow. The plan going forward was to stop her medications and give her only small amounts of liquids using a lollipop style sponge.

Not even five minutes later, the BF got a phone call from his grandmother that his grandfather (who had Parkinson’s) was refusing to eat. Since he made it clear he didn’t want a feeding tube, he was starting hospice care.

The whole drive to Denver I debated with myself, and for those around me, whether I should cut the trip short and go home or continue on. As it was, we either rushed home to see my mom before she passed and miss out on seeing Chris Stapleton (one of my husband “bucket-list items”), or continue on to the concert and miss a chance to say goodbye to her. I ultimately felt that the concert was more important. Life is for the living, and I had said goodbye to my mother many times before.

The universe decided my decision was the incorrect one.

The Friday before the concert the brother-husband asked me what time the event started the next day. I opened up the app and discovered that Chris’s concert had been postponed to the subsequent weekend. Four days after we were scheduled to be home in California. Shoot me. We had briefly, briefly debated staying the rest of the week, but the financial pressure that would have put on us would have been entirely too much. Sure it would have been fun, but ultimately would have left us scraping by. Also, it would have potentially made saying goodbye to mom impossible.

With that final hiccup, we packed our shit up and headed home.

The moment we got back into town I visited my mom and would every day after. I sat in a wheelchair, at her bedside, talking to her and rubbing her arm. For about 75% of the time we spent together she was out cold. She would wake up intermittently, look at me, and then go right back to sleep. At this point she was mostly non-verbal and could barely mumble out a coherent phrase. She did, however, manage a “I love you.”

Two weeks to the day she could no longer swallow, my mother passed. I got the call as I was heading out the door for my workday.

I don’t know if it’s because I saw this coming, a mile away, or I’m just a monster, but I have barely cried in the wake of her death. In comparison with my pop’s, this fact is deeply troubling to me. With him, I could not stop myself. Every thought or relatable song caused me to breakdown. However, now, all I want to do is hide away and sleep. But the responsibilities of my life keep that from happening. Which is a good and bad thing.

Since I got the news, I have been listening to two of my mom’s favorite singers: Anne Murray and Mama Cass.

I wish this song didn’t say the mama and the papas. The song is Mama Cass (aka Cass Elliot.) Anyway, I think my mother enjoyed her so much because, like my mom, was a bigger gal. It showed that the world wasn’t entirely body obsessed.

Saying that though, my mother’s was healthier than a horse. We had opined a few times that she would have survived the black plague, her immunity was so strong. The unfortunate thing is that her mind wasn’t included in that level of health. All of this unbelievably cruel, but that is life.

While I haven’t cried… I am deeply depressed. And perpetually angry. (But I have discovered that I tend to route my sadness into rage.) I just don’t want to do anything. Even writing this is agonizing, but I can’t let myself get so far behind that I can’t keep up.

This song is one of those that will forever make me think of my mom. Hearing it I am back in our station wagon, with the gray interior, on our hour long drive home. She’s singing along in her falsetto, bouncing to the beat.

July 1, 2022

Can’t be bothered

I’m supposed to do a post in my “Soundtrack of My Life” project (2 actually) but I cannot be bothered. Right now I want silence. I don’t want any music to attach itself to this memory, this time.

Life sucks. Mine seemingly moreso. I have to remind myself sometimes that I’m not the only one going through what I’m experiencing. For every one of my situations there is someone else effected.

Let’s start off with the most broad and work our way down…

First is the world. It feels like every society collectively got together and put the most incompetent and insane people in charge of running the world because “we couldn’t be bothered” to deal with it. As a result everything is falling to shit. All of the progress made has been undone because a small group of people feel they have that authority. And because they know/sense that their power is dwindling and they are willing to watch everything burn to maintain their power. It sucks that as I get further into adulthood life sucks even more. At least… the utopia we envision gets dimmer.

Next is my work life… this time of year is usually our busiest. We can barely keep up with the demand for appraisals. And I’m lucky if I even get 1 bud request. And even then it’s usually some bullshit assignment outside of my usual market. So if it’s slow now… what the fuck is it going to look like in winter? Good thing my mother is dying and I’m getting my inheritance. Figures that any kind of gains I get will be wasted on just surviving this bullshit. Fuck the middle class, right America? and here I know those effected are everyone in the real estate market. So I’m not alone but… damn.

Next is dealing with the impending loss of my husband and my mother. Here the pool is smaller. But once again, I’m not alone in it.

My mother is more immediate. I imagine she will pass at some point in the next few days. She lost the ability to swallow over a week ago. And while it has returned at random points in that time period, it has been gone for the most part. Luckily she has been medicated for most of this time. I envy her. I wish I could sleep through this and wake up with the news that it has all happened. But even then… the voice in my head says, then what is the point of living? Life is the good and the bad. It just sucks watching my mom go. However I’m glad she’s not present for it.

My husband is losing more of his ability to do things every week. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like for him to rely on myself and tony to do anything. He can’t eat, drink, relieve, move, or dress himself without one of us there. That would be maddening for me. Yet he has the most optimistic attitude about it. He is truly a saint.

In the end I am selfish about all of this. I can only focus on how it effects me. But I MUST remind myself that the universe and all it’s events don’t revolve around my experience of them.

June 17, 2022

The Soundtrack of My Life – 24 – Mad Season

Here I am again with an entire album. I couldn’t help myself. This is one of the few that I couldn’t pick a single song from if you held a gun to my head. Every track is pure perfection, and far surpassed their first album. At least, to me. And that’s saying something since I was (still) absolutely in love with their first release.

For the longest time, I was blissfully naïve. I thought everyone loved Matchbox Twenty. It wasn’t until I worked at Border’s that upon merely mentioning their name everyone in my vicinity rolled their eyes. (It’s not like I said Nickelback.) I find this kind of behavior super fucking pretentious. The notion that one set of musicians is better than another because they’re not as “commercial” or that they hadn’t “sold their soul to music executives” is exhausting. Here is where I roll my eyes. Just because the band hasn’t been discovered doesn’t mean 1) that they’re even good or 2) that they’re better. It just means there wasn’t a mass appeal for them as there was for another.

Anyway! I’m getting entirely off-track.

The reason I chose this album is because this, along with their first, makes me think of summer time. It brings to mind the excitement and energy of travelling. Every time I listen I’m back in the rear seat of my parents car, headphones on, playing Pokémon on my gold GameBoy pocket. This one in particular recalls the summer right after my 8th grade graduation when my parents took me and a close family friend, Nycole, on a road trip to Canada. This album was what drowned out the sound of the constant bickering between my Aunt and Uncle, who had joined us mid-way through and hijacked our trip.

The trip up to the point, after we realized they had joined us for the remainder of it, was super fun.

While Nycole isn’t a blood relative she feels like a cousin. Even now I will call her that, with no relation between the two of us. She’s transcended normal friendship, primarily because we’ve been friends since we were itty-bitty babies.

I’m not going to lie to you, dear reader. The whole reason my parents planned this trip to Canada was so that I could 1) have my first taste of a “foreign” country and 2) so that I could purchase a plethora of Beanie Babies with Canadian tush tags. At the peak of the Beanie Baby craze, the more sought after plushes were those with this specific piece of legal type. Dumb, I know. Even as I wrote this I saw my dad shaking his head at the explanation. I didn’t choose the beanie life, it chose me.

However, because of my Aunt and Uncle, my time in the Great White North was limited to only a few hours. This was due to them having decided they were going to drive everywhere in their extended cab, diesel truck. It was here that I learned to NEVER AGREE TO TRAVELLING WITH ANOTHER FAMILY. EVER. I refuse to relinquish my ability to be able to do what I want, when I want. If I don’t have an escape route available, I will not take the chance.

By the time we had made it to our neighbor’s to the north, my parents had had enough of them, and so had Nycole and I. Looking back, they’re addition truly soured the entire trip. It went from the freedom to discuss what we wanted to do to: this is what we’re gonna fucking do whether you want to or not. It sucked.

It was on this trip that we were forced to spend an entire day taking a ferry over to Victoria Island so we could go to Butchart Gardens. (Fun fact I dated a dude who’s family had owned it!) I tried to buy Beanie Babies there, but I found none and wasn’t even given the chance to really look because my Aunt and Uncle INSISTED on using public transportation. Now their forced schedule was even more rigid to this.

Once we were free of them, the dark cloud that had built over my family lifted. I mean… it truly was night and day. These people were super toxic. And we had no idea until it was too late. Afterwards my parents knew their limitations and limited the time they spent around them to a minimum.

My dad repeatedly apologized for having said anything to them. He took the blame for having our trip turn into the vacation from hell. Even though it really wasn’t that bad, looking back. It was just them. They were such negative, miserable people.

That was the last big vacation my family ever took. From then on it was just weekend trips to somewhere within close proximity to where we lived, and far enough away that family couldn’t invite themselves.

With the exception of (half of) this adventure, I’ve loved road trips since I was a kid. I know most don’t because they’re trapped in a single place for copious amounts of time, and kids like to run. But I was a sedentary child. Proven by being overweight for the majority of my youth. My idea of fun was having my headphones on, staring out at the passing scenery. My mind would wander from one story idea to another, or I would just relax with the quiet from my constant buzzing thoughts.

Today the polycule and I leave for our own road trip. We’re going to be travelling up to South Dakota and then back down to Denver to see Chris Stapleton. (I got tickets for the hub’s birthday.) He actually just performed here in town last night, but when I went to purchase entry there were no handicap seats available. At all. So, I thought why not make a whole thing out of this and pick somewhere far away.

I just wonder what song or album will define this trip?