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And instead, I pour the milk.
Aug. 6th, 2001 12:19 amI'm back. I survived, and I endured, and I am probably a better person for it. Put a hefty deposit in Karma Bank and Trust, that's for sure. (WARNING: This is a long post. Skim for your name or something.)
For starters, A.'s dad didn't die. Oh, no, that would be too easy. He slept and slept and slept, as only someone on hourly doses of morphine and regular shots of valium can sleep. And A.'s mom, aunt, and sister held vigil religiously. They didn't eat, sleep, shower, change. No. They watched a man sleep. Because they were terrified they would 'miss something.'
A.'s aunt is a piece of work. She's there, doing her vigil thing. She's self-sacrificing, telling everyone to go to bed, to get rest, to get food, to not hang around. When they do, she begins talking about them. So-and-so hasn't spent much time with George. So-and-so takes too many naps. For real.
A.'s mom is so worried that George will die when she's not around that you have to practically drag her out of the room to pee. But the real kicker is A's half sister. She sits there listening to his sleepybreathing. When he starts snoring, she begins bawling, decides 'this is really it this time,' and calls everyone. So thirty some odd people come in to watch a man sleep and ladies weep. I don't get it. Don't they want him to die? I sure do. He can't move, can hardly breathe, and his mind is gone. He weighs half as much as he used to, and eats three spoonfuls of ice cream a day. Come ON!
I imagine they're still there, the three of them, in some sort of mourners' pissing contest.
All glibness aside, this was a very difficult five days. George's five siblings and their SOs came, his two daughters (and one son-in-law and one grandson), his son, me, assorted friends and neighbors, nephews, nieces, cousins, etc all came by. Some of them I had never met. One of them produced a 'late wedding gift.' (Oy.) Then we trekked up to New Brunswick to see A's mom's family up there. So there's nana, great aunt, aunt and uncle, two cousins, other family members. I probably saw 40+ in-laws. And I will, in all likelihood, never see them again.
That was hard. Saying goodbye to George wasn't terribly hard. Like I said, I want his torment to end. In my mind, he's been gone a long time, since his mind went. George was gone. It was also easy saying goodbye to George because the other 40+ people were also saying goodbye to George, so everyone was on the same page. Yesterday I said 'goodbye' to lots of people. They thought I was saying, 'see you later.'
A. hasn't told anyone at all that we're not together. He feels he's 'failed' and is ashamed or embarrassed or something. I agree that now is not the time, not in his father's nursing home room. Of course, he had weeks to say something. But he chose not to, and I certainly wasn't going to use the visit to bring it up. The problem was that these 40+ mourners were trying to find pleasantries, and so, since I don't know them well, they filled their conversation with me with questions about where 'we' were going to move after Ohio, and what 'we' were going to do next. 'Don't worry, you and A. will have a little house in the suburbs soon.' This is supposed to comfort me. Heavens.
I had to lie for five days. If anyone knows me, they will know how painful this was. I /loathe/ lying. I don't lie. I am Blunt Honesty Girl. I will tell the truth first and think of the consequences later. I feel dirty from lying. I threw up daily. Seriously. Not an exaggeration - I am a visceral reponse type.
The other thing I wasn't expecting was how mourning George would also be mourning our relationship. I hadn't thought about how all of my memories of George were also memories of A&I, or of our relationship. A. asked me to do him a favor and leave the relationship issues here in Ohio so he could concentrate on his father. I couldn't do it, because they were intertwined. I explained this to him, but kept my grief to myself. For him. Because I swore to be a friend. Karma.
Lauren. Le heaving sigh. Lauren is A's seven year old cousin and, hands down, my favorite of his relatives. She has CP, and the fam tends to talk down to her and handle her like glass (or like she's a baby, which drives me nuts). This kid is /tough/. I spent all day Saturday with her, just causing trouble and having a grand old time. She /loves/ me. Even his family will say she loves me best. I hadn't seen her in a year, and it was so fucking hard to let go of her. Even now I'm getting weepygut.
So, to sum up (for those of you who skimmed):
1) it was sad
2) it was ridiculous watching some people carry on
3) i miss lauren
4) george recognized me, which was surprising
5) i cried. twice. (which, my adoring fans, is nearly unheard of)
For starters, A.'s dad didn't die. Oh, no, that would be too easy. He slept and slept and slept, as only someone on hourly doses of morphine and regular shots of valium can sleep. And A.'s mom, aunt, and sister held vigil religiously. They didn't eat, sleep, shower, change. No. They watched a man sleep. Because they were terrified they would 'miss something.'
A.'s aunt is a piece of work. She's there, doing her vigil thing. She's self-sacrificing, telling everyone to go to bed, to get rest, to get food, to not hang around. When they do, she begins talking about them. So-and-so hasn't spent much time with George. So-and-so takes too many naps. For real.
A.'s mom is so worried that George will die when she's not around that you have to practically drag her out of the room to pee. But the real kicker is A's half sister. She sits there listening to his sleepybreathing. When he starts snoring, she begins bawling, decides 'this is really it this time,' and calls everyone. So thirty some odd people come in to watch a man sleep and ladies weep. I don't get it. Don't they want him to die? I sure do. He can't move, can hardly breathe, and his mind is gone. He weighs half as much as he used to, and eats three spoonfuls of ice cream a day. Come ON!
I imagine they're still there, the three of them, in some sort of mourners' pissing contest.
All glibness aside, this was a very difficult five days. George's five siblings and their SOs came, his two daughters (and one son-in-law and one grandson), his son, me, assorted friends and neighbors, nephews, nieces, cousins, etc all came by. Some of them I had never met. One of them produced a 'late wedding gift.' (Oy.) Then we trekked up to New Brunswick to see A's mom's family up there. So there's nana, great aunt, aunt and uncle, two cousins, other family members. I probably saw 40+ in-laws. And I will, in all likelihood, never see them again.
That was hard. Saying goodbye to George wasn't terribly hard. Like I said, I want his torment to end. In my mind, he's been gone a long time, since his mind went. George was gone. It was also easy saying goodbye to George because the other 40+ people were also saying goodbye to George, so everyone was on the same page. Yesterday I said 'goodbye' to lots of people. They thought I was saying, 'see you later.'
A. hasn't told anyone at all that we're not together. He feels he's 'failed' and is ashamed or embarrassed or something. I agree that now is not the time, not in his father's nursing home room. Of course, he had weeks to say something. But he chose not to, and I certainly wasn't going to use the visit to bring it up. The problem was that these 40+ mourners were trying to find pleasantries, and so, since I don't know them well, they filled their conversation with me with questions about where 'we' were going to move after Ohio, and what 'we' were going to do next. 'Don't worry, you and A. will have a little house in the suburbs soon.' This is supposed to comfort me. Heavens.
I had to lie for five days. If anyone knows me, they will know how painful this was. I /loathe/ lying. I don't lie. I am Blunt Honesty Girl. I will tell the truth first and think of the consequences later. I feel dirty from lying. I threw up daily. Seriously. Not an exaggeration - I am a visceral reponse type.
The other thing I wasn't expecting was how mourning George would also be mourning our relationship. I hadn't thought about how all of my memories of George were also memories of A&I, or of our relationship. A. asked me to do him a favor and leave the relationship issues here in Ohio so he could concentrate on his father. I couldn't do it, because they were intertwined. I explained this to him, but kept my grief to myself. For him. Because I swore to be a friend. Karma.
Lauren. Le heaving sigh. Lauren is A's seven year old cousin and, hands down, my favorite of his relatives. She has CP, and the fam tends to talk down to her and handle her like glass (or like she's a baby, which drives me nuts). This kid is /tough/. I spent all day Saturday with her, just causing trouble and having a grand old time. She /loves/ me. Even his family will say she loves me best. I hadn't seen her in a year, and it was so fucking hard to let go of her. Even now I'm getting weepygut.
So, to sum up (for those of you who skimmed):
1) it was sad
2) it was ridiculous watching some people carry on
3) i miss lauren
4) george recognized me, which was surprising
5) i cried. twice. (which, my adoring fans, is nearly unheard of)
