Thoughts on Death.

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Death is an odd thing.  It’s hard to wrap your brain around the idea that someone just stops existing.  No matter how expected their death is, it’s still just an odd concept.  Whether or not you believe in religion or an after life,  the reality is that you will never see someone again in this life after they are die.  It’s so final.

My Grandmother died last Tuesday.  My Mom wrote it on her calendar on the day, “mom died”. 

I thought that was weird, but who am I to judge someone about what they want to do when their mother dies.  My mom writes everything on her calendar.  In addition to doctor’s appointments and birthdays she writes random life events.  It still was a bit disturbing to look at her calendar the other day and see “mom died”. Like she needed to write it there to make it real.

Death is so personal.  We tip toe around people who have lost someone, and try to find just the right words to say, even though the right words never seem to exist.  “I’m so sorry.”  “My condolences.” “She’s in a better place.”  They all seem so inadequate, so fake.  Even when I have said them to other people.  It’s like you need to fill the silence, even though it’s obvious that whatever words you chose will not be enough.

My Mom texted me while I was at work last Tuesday morning and said that her Mom had died.  We later laughed that she told me that way, because that was the same strange way that she found out the news.  It was an accident, but her cousin texted her from England, thinking that she already knew and said “I’m so sorry about your mum.”, when she didn’t know yet.  My aunt, my mom’s sister was stuck in traffic on Tuesday morning and trying to drive over to my mom’s house to tell her the news in person when she got home from working the night shift at her hospital.  The miscommunications, and incredible advancements in technology ended up being a downfall. I bet the people that invented text messaging didn’t think that someone might accidentally hear that their mom died this way.

I saw the news and it took my breath away.  I literally couldn’t breath for a moment at my desk, my throat closed up and I had to consciously focus on breathing. I ran outside and called my mom, but then didn’t really say anything once she picked up. I would never be able to see her again.  That’s all that went through my mind.  I could never visit her again. It was so selfish really. Death doesn’t have much to do about the person that dies. It’s more about what they leave behind. It’s just so final.

She was 92 and lived in England.  My brother and I called her Grandma from England.  It was a title that was practical, because it distinguished which Grandma we were talking about and then it turned into her name.  We called her that in person and she signed our birthday cards that way.  She was the most stubborn little woman I’ve ever met.  She never complained about a thing, and did her best effort to not have anyone make a fuss over her nor ask anyone for help.  This because sad and unrealistic after her macular degeneration caused near blindness in her later years. 

She had a love for crosswords, poetry, books and knowledge. I think she is a big part of where I get my love of the written word, and my silly sense of humor.  The last memory I have of her visiting the US a few years ago was her putting a tea cozy on her head and putting her chin on the coffee table to be silly.  At 88.

I was fortunate enough to go to England last March.  Exactly a year ago this week, I was able to spend what I knew was the last time with her.  Her brain wasn’t the same.  She couldn’t remember what we had for lunch in the same day, but her sweet, stubborn, loving self was still in tact. She was tired.  Her body was thin and feeble.  I could tell that 92 years of a mostly not easy life had made her tired.  It was a kind of tired that no amount of sleep can extinguish.

I am so grateful that I got to see her last year, and visit her in England for one last time. I am sad that I will never be able to again. Death is a funny thing, and something so immensity personal that you only really know how you will deal with it once it’s handed to you. All I know is that I am grateful that her tired body doesn’t have to struggle anymore to get out of bed every day, and I am grateful for every moment and memory that I have because of knowing her.