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| Playing dress up in Loie's dress, her groom to boot! |
"My what?"
"You know, your anger. How are you expressing that?"
I was mystified. He pulled a Kubler-Ross book off the shelf and showed me the five stages of grieving: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.
Oddly, at this moment I found my anger. My mom had trained with Kubler-Ross in the 1970s and was a death and dying expert herself. How had we not had this conversation? She could have left me a list, bullet points for grieving. By nightfall I was kicking in grocery carts at the local Jewel.
This morning I read in her book of Grander's passing, a brief glimpse into mom's own grieving process for her dad.
From the book:
My mom called me in Colorado the night I was packed to leave to tell me that my Dad had just died. So I drove alone the next two days, stopping at the halfway mark at cousin Sandi's in Omaha the first night. I had lots to think about en route. My dad had had many things wrong with his body at the end: diabetes, a pacemaker put in, on dialysis, etc. so in a way it was a Godsend to have him no longer in a nursing home barely conscious and surviving. And at the same time I realized that I was now half an orphan and it felt different. The local minister was very helpful with my Mom and making arrangements until I arrived, but she was delighted to see me again. We arranged for her to set up a cornea transplant for her failing eyesight. We were being very efficient with our time, having long talks to make up for all the years apart, learning to make decisions together as a team.
That doesn't give me a lot to go on. I wonder more deeply how mom handled the passing of her father. She never had to grieve for her mother. Maybe because of his age and condition she appears to slip from notification straight to acceptance. Or maybe the two days of intense driving gave her necessary time to work through the stages. I took a similar drive after mom's death, so I can relate. More likely, living a life always so close to death, she managed grieving in a different way.
Flash forward another year or two to a scene during my Cornell years (1991-1995) when I'm "home" in Arlington Heights visiting mom and Loie years after Grander died. With a four hour drive ahead of me, we sat down on the living room floor to say goodbye, my mom, Loie, and me. We got a little....distracted.
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| Water Squeeze Toy, as Google informs me. |
I had what I call a water weenie- one of those plastic cylinders filled with water that slides within itself; the tighter you try and hang on to it the fast it runs between your fingers. As I fumbled around with the toy, Mom and Loie talked about how comfortable they were with death, how they enjoyed living in the present moment and hoped I would not be afraid for them. I went from playing with the water weenie as they spoke to tossing it like a hot potato. We remained in the circle playing water weenie hot potato for two hours! My mom took a picture of us playing and sent me the photo in a "Strawberry Moments" picture frame.
