On April 6, my mother was found dead in her home. I was in New York City with longueur
, our first weekend getaway in six years. The next day, we sat in Central Park on the first nice day of the year, making lists. Cremation, cat, house, car, guns, bank. A life measured out in credit card bills.
Telling my grandparents about the death of their daughter was the hardest thing i have ever yet had to do in my life.
There's a strange language to the business of death. "Your mother is on hold at the Medical Examiner's office. She didn't make the list today" seems fittingly Soviet with a touch of Muzak, my mother an underachiever even in death. Some of it is pure capitalism, as though entering grief through a giftshop: "Your mother's death certificate will be available for purchase on Monday." And then there is the mundane absurdity of human ashes traveling in the mail.
Three weeks later, i am predictably unpredictable to myself. My needs and wants are difficult to gauge and seem to change more quickly than i am used to. It's hard to make decisions about food, let alone anything else. Mainly, i want to be nurtured, and am entirely lost in how to make that happen. At first there were bouts of desire for doing something reckless -- sex with strangers, running away to Italy, New Zealand, somewhere unfamiliar altogether. (The most reckless thing i managed was ice cream for breakfast.) These days, i'm just depleted and immensely sad. I misdirect my anger. The world seems much too loud and fast, crowds are exceptionally hard, and i'm trying to find the quiet, slow, solitary without isolating and staying in bed all day with the curtains closed. But i do that, too. I feel lonely a lot despite having a truly most awesome community. I guess i don't really mean lonely; i mean unreachable.
Speaking of unreachable. Spring is my favorite season, opulent and earthy, all magnolias and lilacs, the pleasures of the body in the world. But not this year.
There is an estate to Deal With. I hope to some day soon be able to see that as an incredible gift, rather than a painful and difficult process. Money is good to have -- still, i'd rather have my mom.