Never Again

Bereavement Leave - Three days. Got to be the stupidiest policy in the world.

The family is slowly retreating, heading back to lives and routines more familiar than the trying times, long drives to the hospital, the stress, the tough decisions and the emotional turmoil caused by mom’s death. Her ashes have been returned and I quietly slipped the in to mom’s closest. At some point, the family will have a private celebration and complete mom’s wishes with a scattering of her ashes along with those of her two dogs, Holly and Rusty.

The funeral home, Simone’s of Saratoga Springs has been fantastic. They delivered mom’s ashes to the house and explained to Dad that he can have Mom’s ashes buried in the site designated for him. This means dad will know where he will be buried, mom can have a headstone with dad and dad will have a traditional place to visit mom, should he wish. I saw great relief in dad when he learned this. On Tuesday, we will make arrangements for this to happen.

I am so tired. Mike took Dad grocery shop after planning some meals for the week. This gave me some precious time alone. As I did the lunch dishes, I realized there is not an end to this story. Mom is gone; she is not coming back; I know longer have a mom. There are no more home cooked meals. There is no place I can find my mother—I won’t be able to come into the house and see mom at the dining room table, or find her in the kitchen or reading the newspaper in her chair in the living room.

Some things will never be explained. Why are there hundreds of food can label bar codes in a canister in the cherry cabinet, or who is the person in the old black and white photo found tucked away in a drawer my old bedroom, or what happened to mom’s mattress pad on her bed. It was missing. (The woman could barely walk across the living room, where could she have put a full size mattress pad, let alone how did she get it off the bed without dad’s help?)

I find myself crying alone – on a morning run, in bed during the middle of the night, in my Jeep while running an errand. In some cultures it is forbidden to speak the name of the dead for fear their spirit will get lost and not be able to find the way into the next world. I say her name out loud, as if calling to her. It is painful and there is no answer. I sure as hell miss her.