11 September, 2008

midland hills 1952

Dear Nannie,
I miss you and am glad you are gone. It’s hard for me to regret your passing, you have lived such a full, grand life and hurt so much toward the end. I am sick as I write this- someone at your funeral service passed around a virus that both your brother Ed and I caught and another nasty flu virus, which so far seems to have hit only me.

We just came from burying half your ashes, it was really important that your brother was present, so I drug my slimy, soggy self out of bed and yelled at my sister and grouched at the kids and I opened that little black box because I had to see it, I had to go. I probably should have stayed home. All I’ve thought in the five or so seconds of lucidity between- oh god I am soo sick- is how the hell did you deal with this for so long? How were you always OK?

Did you watch the backs of your eyelids like I do until you fell into restless sleep? Did you wake up crying and sobbing because there were important things to do damn it, things that cannot now be done? Did you wallow and moan and sniffle and hold your head seething at the injustice of it all? No, you suffered in silence. You always kept a soggy Kleenex in your purse, but you never looked like one. I seriously doubt you’d have shown up, bra-less and mean, to your grandmother’s burial.

Now my words are all gone and my thoughts all stifled under sickness but I suppose I can write you more later, later, when I feel better.



5 Responses to “later.”

  1. GraceArtemis Says:

    I know what you mean because I have seen it happen to people I know. If their time was up, letting go of them is easier. But if it’s too early, if there were things left undone… it gets complicated. Another thought: brave things aren’t done because you can do them. They are done because you have to do them. This I know because it happened to me.

    (I have been at work for 13 hours straight. I take no responsibility of the things I say.)

  2. laura Says:

    I’m so sorry for your loss…& your sickness.
    What an awful time to be feeling so lousy.
    I hope you get better soon.
    Take care.

  3. Kirkaguard Says:

    Lea: Nice place you have here. I like the decorating. Your have a nice cast, but I heard there is some new folks jumping in. Act 2?

    I hope you feel better soon, I know you will. Life can be a painful place but there is such wonder to be found in the simplest places, like children playing happy cardgames in the back room of a funeral parlor.

    I think I’ll come visit more often. It feels like I belong here.

  4. Jackie Says:

    The BEAUTIFUL unvarnished truth is what I find here, and underneath the love for your Nannie. Get better, if I were closer I’d come over with a pot of homemade chicken soup…..

  5. Your words are far from gone or stifled. Far from it.

    I am so sorry, again.

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