anniversary

A year ago today, my father died unexpectedly. It's a long story. It was jarring and sad that he died, and it triggered a chain of complicated legal issues, but I didn't lose a father that day. I lost my father 15 years ago when my mother and I left. He was troubled in many ways. Only last year, we had just started reconnecting, to the best he was able, over the care of my beloved grandmother (his mother, whose death later that year still haunts me), and then he died. He lived a sad life, so his death was sad, made even more so by the fact that he had probably died several days before he was found, alone in the house.

Obit I wrote.

My mother and I scattered his ashes over the Atlantic Ocean in Rehoboth. His late-in-life wish was to travel to Turks and Caicos, or Mexico and spend the rest of his life on the beach. While his passport was unused, I know that he'll get there someday, perhaps he's even there by now.

Okay, I have to stop writing now, as getting teary at work is really not appropriate.

Things that come to you while out and about

2 nuggets of wisdom I had this week:

I had a hard time picking out a Mother's Day card. How do you choose a card when you do not particulary like your mother? I realize that sounds terrible and before everyone who has a perfect family life jumps down my throat, let me explain. Surely I have only one mother. And I am very very grateful for all the hell she went through when I was young and the things she did for me. We went through a lot together, and we are the same person in a lot of ways. She provided a lot for me as a single mother. I'm grateful for that.

But as I've gotten older, she's also consistently been the most unreliable person I know, and she hasn't come through on a lot of things she really needed to last year, especially when it came to all the heartache and struggle and legal issues etc related to my father and grandmother's deaths.

Previously, my mother and I didn't talk very often anyway. I never understood those people who talk to their moms every day. There would often be weeks or months between our conversations. This is even more true since all the tragedy of last year. I can't remember the last time I spoke to my mom but I think it was at least a few months ago. She isn't a mother figure to me now that I'm an adult. Yes she still birthed me, but she doesn't really have any role in my life. And it hurts to type that, and without knowing the whole story, makes me seem really cold. We're not friends. We don't really have anything in common. She doesn't know how to relate to me. She's not motherly--I've been taking care of myself for a long time now. And while now she's the only family I've got, I still feel like a true orphan because all of my family members are gone. It makes me sad, but I'm used to it. Like I said, I've been looking out for myself since earlier than most, earlier in life than I really should have needed to.
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Other nugget of wisdom: When you are a single person without any family nearby, who do you list as your Emergency Contact? I've been struggling with this for years now. I often just have to put my mom, even though she's not in the state, and so I don't know how good of an emergency contact that really is. At times, I've listed serious boyfriends, but relationships always end, and then I have to try to remember who I put where and what to change. I've put Joe down before. And I suppose he'd still be an appropriate person, so long as he's here, but it doesn't feel right. I know a lot of people. I have a lot of acquaintances. But no one I would think would be fitting for this so-common but so elusive title.

Wino

Wanted a cheap wine tonight but didn't want to drive all the way to the suburban sprawl-hole that is Short Pump. So I stopped at my local Kroger, which has a nice wine selection, and scored this Spanish wine on sale (about a dollar off) for $7.79. Because South American and Spanish wines are still almost a well-kept secret, I always feel like I'm in on something special when I buy those wines, especially as compared in price to the other more popular regions, like Italy, France, and California. Speaking of wines, there's an interesting dialogue happening in the comment thread of RVA Foodie's post about a Sideways-style wine duel at his house recently. He better invite me to the next one.

(yes, that's my tree still up in the bg, don't judge!)

I am a sucker for anything in Spanish, and this wine is very drinkable, a little--not sweet exactly, but notes of sweetness. A little dry, but still pleasant on its own. Good buy for sure. Speaking of my affinity for all things Spanish, one of my students, a supercute, immaculately dressed specimen from Guadalajara, Mexico came in today, and was interested in our GSA. I'm looking forward to lobby day.

I might have played hooky from my second job tonight to go to the grocery store, come home and relax, wash dishes, drink wine, and jam out to my iTunes. So far I've had some great Tom Petty, Wild Horses, The Fray, Michael Jackson, John Mellencamp, and now some Queen, one of my all-time favorite bands. Some photos of Freddie Mercury remind me of my dad when he was young.

Do you ever feel like you were born in the wrong era? I wish I could go back and experience the 4o's, the 60's, 70's disco, so many different times. My mom is at the young end of the Boomers, so she really didn't get to see the 60's, so no cool clothes and stories for me. Instead, I remember bad yellow/orange upholstery and bad design that characterized so much of the 1970's.

I plucked yet another grey hair from my part yesterday. Because my hair is so dark, the silverly strands just shout out for attention, such a contrast to the rest of my mane. I remember telling my mom she'd have to stop plucking eventually or she'd have no hair left. Sigh. We all turn into our mothers eventually? I look so much younger than I am, which often vexes me, because I don't like it assumed that I am young and therefore inexperienced and/or naive, though I guess I should appreciate it, because it allows me to bridge the gap of friendships between my much-younger early-20s friends and those in their late 20's and 30's who are closer in experience to me, at least those without kids.

I read a REALLY interesting article in the Chronicle about modern friendships and social media, and when I have some more time this week, I want to craft a thoughtful response.

On Christmas

(Icicles on my fire escape, after the snow last week.)

I've got to say, it hasn't really felt like Christmas this last week. I know I've got good reasons not to be the cheeriest ever this year, but I don't want to get sucked into a funk. I haven't really done much socializing these last few weeks, and as it gets cold and dark more, I tend to stay in and hibernate. I'm sure I get a mild bit of S.A.D (seasonal affective disorder) though I don't think that's kicked in yet. I think just all the changes with Christmas this year made it not seem so much like Christmas. I guess that's to be expected when you get older. This was the first Christmas I woke up alone, to no Santa, no stockings, no one but my own lovely tree and unconditionally loving cat. Which is fine. I chose not to go home this year, but it doesn't make it any less lonely.

On Christmas day, I drove up to DC to visit my longest friend and her mom (who's like a mom to me, and even much more lately, as she's been really supportive with the affairs related to my dad and grandma and everything). We went to a really nice Italian place in DuPont, where the service was impeccable and the Italian men were so friendly and my water was refilled as soon as I needed it (a big plus for me!). We had the pre fix menu and shared 2 bottles of wine. The waiter brought us a complimentary digestif of amaretto in little wine/shot glasses. Lovely. We then went to see It's Complicated, due to my friend's mom being divorced and well, there aren't that many movies for that demographic. It was better than I thought, but still a little sad, though it gave me a glimpse of what it's like to have an adult relationship with your mother. I was jealous of the dynamic the family had in the film. I have other-people family envy a lot. It made me hopeful though that my friend's mom and I could continue to bond, and have that kind of adult mom/friendship.

(from Nectar & Light)

I was grateful to spend the day with them, and be spoiled with dinner, wine, and a movie. I brought them some of my grandma's jewelry for them to choose what they wanted. My grandma had so much jewelry, and this was just a small portion of it. I was so so pleased that they liked so many pieces. My friend's mom adored a cameo ring, and my friend looked good in all the big, chunky necklaces that I could never pull off. It meant a lot to me that someone else could enjoy my grandma's jewelry, and it was like they had a piece of her now, so her memory lives on, not just with me.


(Gingerbread men at a local coffee shop)

After mailing them cards about my Grandma, I had my grandma's old friend and my other great aunt who I haven't seen or spoken to in years call me on Christmas, but I just haven't felt up to calling them back, which I feel terrible about. I do want to hang on to the little family I have left, but I don't feel like I have the energy for much right now. My cousins who came to the funeral are the closest, in MD, and I hope we'll all be a little better at keeping in touch. I grew up with them, and have fond memories of Thanksgivings and Christmases back then.

Anyway, I'm going to not let myself get sucked into holiday-melancholy, because I always hate when people hate Christmas because they had bad things happen to them on it. It's not Christmas's fault.

In Memoriam

Dorothy Cross


Michael Shaw


Hopefully I won't have to write any more obituaries for awhile. 2010 will be a better year, right?

Little Letters

Dear Apartment 10,
Thank you for being cute and posting this little letters idea today (even though it originally came from Taza, but I haven't gotten to her on my blog reader yet). Writing this is keeping me from flying off the handle, or breaking down today.

Dear Nursing Home,
When I drive through 2 states to bring to your attention my grandmother's labored, constant cough, you should take me seriously, so she does not end up in the hospital for the umpteenth time.

Dear Dr. Gallagher,
Please call me back and let me know what's going on with my grandmother. Calling me to talk about possible end-of-life plans and then not updating me at all in 12 hours is making me anxiety-ridden.

Dear Mom,
Please be a little more reliable. Please also don't hate me forever when I tell you that I'm not coming home for Christmas this year. See also, Postsecret.

(photo credit: Postsecret)

Dear Self,
Remember to put on eyelid primer first or else the eye makeup will all slide off, doing a terrible job of hiding the puffy eyes from crying last night.

Dear Students,
Please stop being so dense. I'm losing patience.

Court

Tomorrow morning I have a court date to officially become Guardian of my grandmother. This was a 2 month process. You'd think when someone dies, they'd speed it up a little, but nooo. This is out of state, so I'll be doing a lot of driving in a less-than-12-hour span. I have to be somewhere in the evening here on Friday, something I've been looking forward to for months, so please pray to the traffic gods for me. I have to get out of the state no later than 1pm so I don't hit Beltway rush hour.

Beach and Bikes and Bummed

Back home from the beach. It was cloudy and/or rained for pretty much the entire trip. Sigh. I have bad luck with vacations and weather. We rented bikes, and I biked 17 miles, which was amazing because it felt like nothing. I brought back my dad's bike, which I misremembered as being a standard mountain bike. It's not. It's a cruiser. With pedal brakes. It's fairly large and a bit unwieldy. I rode it to an event that my friend Kevin, the creator of Gay RVA, was having a few blocks away. I wonder if I can sell it and buy a decent used bike? My dad had bought it new, just a few months ago, but it already has some wear and tear on it and I doubt I can get near the cost of what it was.

In other news, nursing homes are just sad, sad places. No one should live like that. I've never been one to exclaim that if I ever get sick, I just want people to pull the plug, am not in general a fan of Do Not Resuscitate orders, and think one should try all possible to maintain life (after all, we only get one), but I don't want to live like that when I get old. It's not a life. My grandmother has Alzheimer's and it's a terrible, terrible existence. What are we doing to our fellow citizens when we just make them hold on to life when life is no good any longer? I will try not to launch into a Euthanasia speech, because people are afraid of that word (see also: abortion, socialism, condoms, feminism, queer), but there's gotta be a choice here. My grandmother fell in the bathroom for the SECOND TIME (Nursing home, get your act together), and now she's in the hospital because she has gotten sick and has another infection and isn't eating or drinking. I find this out as soon as I arrive home, 4 hours away from having seen her for 2 days.

It's good to be home though. I'm having some leftover wine and eating some dinner and going to meet some of the OMGWTFRVA crew out for Karaoke tonight. I don't have to work tomorrow, yay!

"Home"

I was "home" last week for a family emergency. Well, not so much an emergency, as an end. My father unexpectedly died. It's hard to explain to most people, because up until last December, I hadn't seen my father in 15 years. So it's not like I lost a parent. No, I lost my parent when I was 13. I grieved him back then, when my mother and I left.

He was troubled, unstable, and a loner, and so it's sad, because his life was sad, and it's sad because my grandmother (his mother) who helped raise me, outlived everyone--her son, her husband, her sister/best friend.

He died in his home due to heart problems, died alone, and no one found him for days. Take a moment to imagine the mark that leaves on the house, the imagery, the smell, the horror. I didn't dare go into the room, but the smell permeates everything: my clothes from that day, the things I put in my car, my car seats, my grandmother's bills, his laptop, which I later hacked into and was on the bed next to him when he died. I found he had a myspace (which was locked) and a Twitter (which was not). He wrote mostly mundane things on Twitter, including trips for coffee, listening to music, and his dreams of the beach. But he did make one post about seeing me for the first time in many years, and it was all I could do not to cry and be weirded out by the whole thing.

There's tons of issues regarding my grandmother's estate and guardianship that I have to deal with now, and I'm overwhelmed. One day at a time, is all I can do. In my next post, I'll show you some of the good stuff that came out of the trip, including my favorite tacky Mexican place, and sparkly jewelry.

Dealing with a major family emergency. Will post again once I get my head back on.