Monday, May 16, 2011

So sorry your Mother in Law is dead - here's $30

OMG - I so do not mean disrespect to my family in anyway but it's so funny that I just have to point out the difference between the midwest and any place else on the planet.  Or maybe it's just that the south does it their own par- tic- ular way (I'm southern now - not by birth but by choice - makes me a bit of a bastard I think) but hey - your MIL died - she was worth more than Rockefeller - here's a $20 to take the edge off.  I love my sweet family.  You can't ship a green bean casserole but by God $20 travels just fine.  I don't quite get it but yet - I do.  It's the "I can't help she died - but here's something I can do!" I love it so much it makes me want to hug them all so sweetly - and I guess that was the point.  But fact of the matter is that it was not MY personal mom who died so I am just a bystander in this particular parade.  I am trying to take this whole experience with a huge grain of salt to be as unbiased as possible - but really - it is what it is and life and death hit us all at different points and places.  I find it sweet and humbling.  Thank you all.

"Hey how's it going?"

where's my f'n money?  Okay so when family starts calling a week after the body is actually cold - family you don't ever talk to.  Like, ever.  And they are asking, "so how's it going?" it's very much code for, "hey asshole when do I get my cut of the old lady we kicked to the curb a while back . . . . "  Yeah not cool - so well - in death as in life there are loopholes and details.  In life in you have to deal with them  - BUT in death some other stupid bastard has to.  In comes Roger.  Yeah it's messy.

Sunday, May 8, 2011


The flowers started coming Saturday 2pm.  They were so pretty and smelled amazing - a very stark contrast to the smells that had normally filled the front of our home.  Roger's nose had blocked the urine smell that filled the downstairs I didn't have that particular gifting so I smelled it and wanted to cry.  I could do nothing more than ask that she try to make efforts to wear certain garments.  It was strained at best - horrific at worst and all I wanted to do was cry and run.  But this was my house.  No matter who helped it's purchase - I should feel at home in my own house and I did not.  I was trapped on the second story and really didn't want to make my way down - I knew I was behaving badly - I should want to spend time with her - but she had burnt bridges that I could not find energy to rebuild. 

She really was an amazing person.  I wish I had known her as an aunt - friend - church goer - anything other than family.  She had such an amazing life - was in Heroshima with her husband - Chief of Surgery - Oscar Posey Howard - right after the bomb dropped to help.  She was there - not really to do anything medical just the wife of someone helpful - but she was there.  It counted.  I can't imagine that life but well it was her's to live and live it she did.  I am not going to stand here in judgment but (don't you love the - I won't say but Jesus - here I am saying) she was an observer that was so the ugly american.  When I heard the stories it was littered with "and those "Japs" did this . . . " yeah.  I need a minute. 

She was demanding at best and a complete bitch at her worst and now that she's gone I miss the hell out of her.  Don't get me wrong.  My house is for the first time in a year - my house.  I can breathe.  It's mine.  But I do actually factually miss her.  We went to the bookstore and I unknowingly bought a book for her.  She doesn't need it today.  Nor does she need neosporin that I felt I was stealing today for my finger.  Mary is dead.  Mom is gone. She doesn't need any damn thing from me.  It's Mother's Day.  And I am happy to have my house back, but - really, as irratating as she was - I miss her.  Pass the peanut butter and jelly - and there's a fresh pot of coffee waiting for her. 

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Driving Mrs. Mary or Why I sucked caring for my MIL

FUCK! It was the first time I had ever heard my father utter those words and really? hey he worked in a factory.  It took a special man to never ever say bad language around his children that was bantered about like skittles during the day - but it was that sole word that stopped me dead in my tracks and to this day I really am glad I can still have sex.  I saw what he saw.  It was the girl parts of a Jesus only knows how old woman exposed to the world.  My world - his world.  It was not pretty and only one word summed it up.  Fuck.  THAT is why I am where I am.  Read on.  It gets better.