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Eye On Life Team | Sunday, February 14, 2010 at 1:25PM “The Fun Fell Right Out of the Rant”
Sometimes even a rant goes astray. I meant to write something slightly witty. I know my limits, so I say slightly. And slightly suggestive. Well, I’d probably push the slightly there, Ya know how she gets when I let her out. But not today as the calendar would have it. Today I had to slip out of my low rise jeans and into a pair of black boots and a navy jumper, topped of with a black blazer. “Jeez,” you say, “sounds like your going to a funeral.” That’s where I’d smile and you’d look sheepishly at the ground.
One of my oldest friends lost her Mom this week. One of nine children, the first to go. Even her own mother had to bury her. She fought a good fight against the big C and lost. Not because she wasn’t feisty. Lord that would be an understatement. I read in a metaphysical book, that controlling mothers often end up with breast cancer. In this case they were probably right. I loved her though; she often mothered me as well. But her daughter changed careers and eventually changed towns because of it.
If buttinsky moms get breast cancer then at least my “no pressure” mom is safe. Not my dead one, silly, my mom now. My step-mom. No, not my first step-mom, my second step and current one. Keep up would ya. She’s healthy as the horses grazing around their house. Wish I could say the same for my Dad. God I wish.
I believe in positive thinking so I’ve been berating myself all day. But just couldn’t help but think this was a preview for me. I even studied the way the funeral was run. Watched my girlfriend receive mourners like a bride at a wedding reception. Only she wasn’t happy. The food and drink was there though. Thank god for their Irish heritage. Maybe it appeals to the Irish in me. If it doesn’t taste good going down, marinate it. It’s bound to taste better. So She and I shared a plastic cup of Cab. Reminisced, hugged, then I gave her a poem and made her cry. Her tears were safe with me she knew.
A couple of guests interrupted us to ask how my Dad’s chemo was doing. Another wine? All funerals, the same as actual good times, come to an end. At least I could walk away from the morose cloud that hung over that rental hall. Walk away from that beloved family with the caverness hole in the midst of it. Walk away for now.
Back home I slip into my jeans. Find a couple Advil to dull the ache of tears held back. Throw them back with an ice cold beer, check myself in the mirror. The red actually brings out the green in my eyes.
Reader Comments (2)
I don't remember exactly when it became clear to me that God was not going to make an exception in my case and that I too was mortal-- but I know that losing my parents and a couple of beloved friends brought it home hard to me. I loved and identified with your gentle and loving meditation on love, life and yes, dare I say it? death. A woinderful read.
Beautifully written. My oldest daughter once said to me spontaneously, "You know how people are all made out of other people?" I asked her what she meant by that and she pointed out how each of us has "all these people inside us from way back," meaning our ancestors, parents ,grandparents--and I thought, wow, yeah. That fact doesn't keep us from dying, but it's something. And it made me realize being a mom is not nothing, it's totally something and not just something, but something BIG, no matter how well or how poorly any given woman manages it. Thank you.