Death

     I just received word that my stepmother died yesterday. Alice was a nice lady. She didn’t tolerate any abuse from my dad and made him a much better husband and man than he was for my mom. She moved to live nearer to her daughters when my dad died, so I hadn’t seen her for about fifteen years. My sister said she will be cremated and her remains will be divided to be scattered, some in Granby and some in Maine.

     When John G. Robison died, he also wanted his remains to be scattered. He explicitly stated that he did not want a funeral. To my mind, a funeral, or at least some kind of memorial service, puts the period on the end of the life-sentence. I’ve always felt off-balance about John G.’s death – there was no time for reminiscing with family and friends. 

     My uncle Charlie died last month and there were two days of events: calling hours at the funeral home, the funeral, the procession to the cemetery, and a gathering at a local banquet hall. My mother, the only living sibling, came up from Florida. Cousins from almost every family group sent at least one representative. At the cemetery, many went to visit the graves of older family members. At all of the events of those two days, stories were shared about Charlie. Some stories I knew but some I didn’t. It allowed me to see Charlie in a variety of different roles when I had only seen him in life as my uncle.  I also ran into people that I knew from other contexts, who didn’t know me as Charlie's niece. Most importantly, it let me see and acknowledge Charlie as someone who had died; I do not expect to go and visit him anymore. After the funeral, cousins continued to gather for days, not to reminisce any further about Charlie, but to re-establish and reinforce our bonds as an extended family.

     When John G. died, I kept thinking that I needed to see him, to either to take Jack to visit or to celebrate holidays. For people who are cremated (and whose remains are to be scattered), I think a funeral, some kind of service, or even a party(!) is a necessity. Especially where there will not be a grave or other marker to visit, there needs to be a rite of passage, not for the dead, but for those who are still living. John G.’s death never had a concrete reality for me since I never had the opportunity to celebrate his life and I had no grave or other death-marker to confront.
     I've talked to Margaret a lot about her end-of-life plans. She also wants to be cremated (with her remains scattered). I've said that we must also have a party to celebrate her life. She seemed bemused by my plans.

Having Jack - some more thoughts

Margaret had her stroke 11 months before Jack was born. I had helped her for a few days when she came home, installing various devices to help make it possible for her to live by herself. I specifically remember drilling a hole in her cutting board and hammering in a spike, so she could impale vegetables that she wanted to chop. Still, I worried about her and was reluctant to give her any shocking news.
So, a few weeks later, when I knew I was pregnant, I was afraid to tell her. We were chatting on the phone. I decided to get cute and asked her how she felt about being a grandmother. She let out a horrible shriek. I said, “Margaret? Margaret? Are you all right?” I was afraid I had killed her. It seemed like hours before she answered me. I almost hung up to call the rescue squad to check on her. When she was finally able to speak, she assured me that she was happy. Still, I decided to never give her any more surprising news over the phone!

                Sometime during the period when all I did was throw up and hurt, I started having nightmares about the baby. Repeatedly,  I dreamed that I wasn’t having a human child, I had an Alien fetus growing inside me, eating my innards and getting ready to tear its way out of my abdominal cavity, leaking my guts and goo, on its way to a pillaging frenzy and finally, to take over the planet for all Alien-kind. I was relieved when they did an ultrasound and I didn’t see a tail. I wasn’t sure about the safety of the world until Jack was finally born and he looked human. Still, you never know.