The Viewing was today.
Viewings are strange occasions. People come to pay their last respects (to use term), but they also come to see the surviving family.
If you're one of the family, chances are you will see people that you haven't seen for 10, 15, maybe even 20 years.
The times for the viewing were 2-4 and 7-9. Most of the people who wanted to say goodbye came this afternoon. Unusual because today is Mother's Day, and I would have thought that most would have been visiting somewhere else.
My Mother looks very nice. She is wearing a suit with a red jacket and a navy blue skirt. Red is a good color on her. There is a lilly embroidered on the left shoulder. My Father said she really liked the suit and he'd bought it for her--it was a surprise.
When she was younger, she had beautiful clothing. Even though color-blind, she had nice taste. For most of the time I knew her, though, she struggled to find nice clothing. An older body and shifting shape, not to mention bad styles of the 1970's made it difficult for her to find suitable clothing for her age and body type. She would get so frustrated at times....
But this suit looked very nice. The embroidery was something that, I'm sure, reminded her of style touches from years gone by.
She is wearing her watch. A cheap little watch, but she always had one on. I remember the Timex she bought at W.T.Grant's...that had a brown face with big white numbers that she could see. She could never get her eyeglass perscription quite right.
I went up to my Mother, placed my hand on her arm. It was cold and waxy feeling, but even in death, she is my Mother. I touched her forehead, one of her ears, stroked her arm. I wouldn't be seeing her again after today.
My sister managed to be civil, although she did not come to the house between viewings...something I thought quite crass. And made some comments that she had been hoping for a miracle, that mom would fight the stroke, that she had to get better and come home.
I knew better when the doctor explained the damage to her brain...coupled with her heart condition, I knew her time was short. I haven't cried much because I knew it was inevitable.
But I'm pragmatic. It saves me from devastating disappointment.
My Father is having a difficult time, and, in an effort to try to cope, keeps shooting his mouth off about how much he spent for the funeral and how much he will be paying for the 46 days she was in the hosptial.
He never quite learned the proper social graces...but, beyond that, he doesn't really know what else to say right now. I know he belives that if he tells people how much he spent they will believe he truly loved my mother.
He's never really understood that money doesn't equal love.
Then again, he's never really understood love.
And then there were cousins and more cousins. People I haven't seen since the last funeral I was able to attend. My Godmother's lost 20 lbs. since my Mother's been sick and looks quite frail from the time we had lunch with her on Good Friday. Some of my cousins didn't show up, and I wasn't expecting them too. They weren't that close to my mother and have some ambivalence about family in general. Some cousins, much, much older than I, are getting a little loopy with age, and the conversation showed it. But, it's okay. They showed up anyway.
There are some cousins I miss and would like to see more often. But I know that won't be the case. We weren't able to stay in touch when I lived here, and now that I'm officially 4 hours (or more, depending on traffic) away, the chances of staying in touch are even more slim.
When I publish the blogging article, perhaps I'll send copies around. At least they'll know I finally did it.
The huge, raucous, cantankerous, venomous Italian family I knew as a child has whittled down to a few survivors. My younger cousin Janice reminded me that one of her brothers turned 50, and another will turn 49. These were guys I tagged along after when I was in my teens...who got me in big trouble a time or two because my Father didn't understand that, to them, I was a "kid sister" and not a "kissing cousin."
I got a headache this afternoon. Too much perfume and too many odd memories constricting my blood vessels and stretching my brain cells.
Tomorrow morning is the funeral.
Then, life will start over again.
Viewings are strange occasions. People come to pay their last respects (to use term), but they also come to see the surviving family.
If you're one of the family, chances are you will see people that you haven't seen for 10, 15, maybe even 20 years.
The times for the viewing were 2-4 and 7-9. Most of the people who wanted to say goodbye came this afternoon. Unusual because today is Mother's Day, and I would have thought that most would have been visiting somewhere else.
My Mother looks very nice. She is wearing a suit with a red jacket and a navy blue skirt. Red is a good color on her. There is a lilly embroidered on the left shoulder. My Father said she really liked the suit and he'd bought it for her--it was a surprise.
When she was younger, she had beautiful clothing. Even though color-blind, she had nice taste. For most of the time I knew her, though, she struggled to find nice clothing. An older body and shifting shape, not to mention bad styles of the 1970's made it difficult for her to find suitable clothing for her age and body type. She would get so frustrated at times....
But this suit looked very nice. The embroidery was something that, I'm sure, reminded her of style touches from years gone by.
She is wearing her watch. A cheap little watch, but she always had one on. I remember the Timex she bought at W.T.Grant's...that had a brown face with big white numbers that she could see. She could never get her eyeglass perscription quite right.
I went up to my Mother, placed my hand on her arm. It was cold and waxy feeling, but even in death, she is my Mother. I touched her forehead, one of her ears, stroked her arm. I wouldn't be seeing her again after today.
My sister managed to be civil, although she did not come to the house between viewings...something I thought quite crass. And made some comments that she had been hoping for a miracle, that mom would fight the stroke, that she had to get better and come home.
I knew better when the doctor explained the damage to her brain...coupled with her heart condition, I knew her time was short. I haven't cried much because I knew it was inevitable.
But I'm pragmatic. It saves me from devastating disappointment.
My Father is having a difficult time, and, in an effort to try to cope, keeps shooting his mouth off about how much he spent for the funeral and how much he will be paying for the 46 days she was in the hosptial.
He never quite learned the proper social graces...but, beyond that, he doesn't really know what else to say right now. I know he belives that if he tells people how much he spent they will believe he truly loved my mother.
He's never really understood that money doesn't equal love.
Then again, he's never really understood love.
And then there were cousins and more cousins. People I haven't seen since the last funeral I was able to attend. My Godmother's lost 20 lbs. since my Mother's been sick and looks quite frail from the time we had lunch with her on Good Friday. Some of my cousins didn't show up, and I wasn't expecting them too. They weren't that close to my mother and have some ambivalence about family in general. Some cousins, much, much older than I, are getting a little loopy with age, and the conversation showed it. But, it's okay. They showed up anyway.
There are some cousins I miss and would like to see more often. But I know that won't be the case. We weren't able to stay in touch when I lived here, and now that I'm officially 4 hours (or more, depending on traffic) away, the chances of staying in touch are even more slim.
When I publish the blogging article, perhaps I'll send copies around. At least they'll know I finally did it.
The huge, raucous, cantankerous, venomous Italian family I knew as a child has whittled down to a few survivors. My younger cousin Janice reminded me that one of her brothers turned 50, and another will turn 49. These were guys I tagged along after when I was in my teens...who got me in big trouble a time or two because my Father didn't understand that, to them, I was a "kid sister" and not a "kissing cousin."
I got a headache this afternoon. Too much perfume and too many odd memories constricting my blood vessels and stretching my brain cells.
Tomorrow morning is the funeral.
Then, life will start over again.
posted by Tish Grier at 9:49 PM
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