Is the hard part reallly over? (really long post)
So my mom passed away on June 5th. She was my best friend. No matter what happened I could always go to her for help and advice. She always put her kids and grandkids before herself and I think they may be part of what led to her death. I miss her terribly. I feel like there is a huge hole in my soul. There are so many things that I can no longer do because she's gone. One of my dear friends once told me that there are times that God takes something away from us so that we are drawn closer to Him. I want to be closer to God and I have asked Him to help me grow stronger in faith, but I really really really miss my mom!
I got a phone call at 4 in the morning that Saturday from the hospital telling me that my mom was dead and my dad couldn't speak he was in such terrible shape. I freaked. I told myself it had to be a bad dream (the two previous night I had actually dreamed about Brandon passing away and leaving Alex and me alone.) I quickly called my dad and he managed to tell me that they think it was a heart attack and he needed me there as quickly as possible. I packed Brandon, Alex, and myself as quickly as possible and we drove to Gilmer. I really just wanted to scream, the pain was so intense in my heart and soul. We got to the hospital about 7 am, my dad was still there and he was heart broken. We went into the hospital and I saw my mom's body. She looked like she was sleeping. I just cried and cried and cried. I could only be there for just a minute with her, it was so hard to see her and realize it wasn't a dream. My mother was truly gone. We drove to the house and my dad and I just cried and cried. We made a couple of phone calls. My brothers were the hardest to get a hold of. One of them was in Utah, the other was in Chicago. Dad and I did what we could to find insurance papers and everything. We went to the funeral home and began to arrange the funeral. I had a pretty strong composure about that time. I knew I had to be strong for my dad. We chose the casket, called the church and arranged for a priest for the funeral.
The next few days were a blur for me.
My second older brother, Chuck, arrived. He had to act like the super tough guy so we wouldn't know just how much he was hurting. I think he was surprised to learn how much Dad and I had accomplished without his help. He took charge of making phone calls and dealing with annoying creditors that were calling my mom's cell phone.
My eldest brother, Richie, arrived and he was great moral support. He's not the most responsible or the most knowlegeable about arranging funerals and dealing with paperwork, but when you need a hug he's there.
We all went to mass Sunday morning. All of us had to walk out halfway through because we were crying so much. The deacon was kind enough to loan me a book with funeral readings and hymns. I picked those out and typed them up for the lady that was helping arrange the funeral.
My grandmother arrived Monday with one of my uncles, my grandfather, my cousin and his pregnant girlfriend. She cried and wailed and cried. I tried to calm her down and explain to her, but she just couldn't understand what had happened to my mom and how she had died. None of us could really grasp the idea that she had really passed away.
That night we had the viewing and a rosary. A lot of distant relatives arrived before the viewing and came out to the house to talk to my grandmother. They were mostly speaking Spanish. I had an idea of what they were talking about, but I was too befuddled to keep up conversation. My grandfather and I had words. He has a way of hiding his grief by acting like a real jerk. The one time I tried to get something to eat for the first time since I had gotten the news about my mom, he was there at the table. He told me that I wasn't really going to miss my mom and I didn't need to eat because I was already fat enough. I threw away my plate and went back to taking care of Alex.
Tuesday we had the funeral. The priest was wonderful. The funeral director was wonderful. I don't think I have ever cried harder in my life. Chuck and I lectored for the mass. I didn't entirely break down until we were walking out of the church after mass. I bawled and bawled. We had the blessing of the grave site then the priest offered up some more prayers. They didn't lower her down into the ground until everyone was gone. I had to speak in broken Spanish to invite everyone at the funeral back to the house for lunch. I guess I did okay since mostly everyone showed up to eat.
There was a little bit of family drama after the funeral back at the house. I nearly threw one of my cousins out of the house. He is older than my brother Richie but he acts like he's 13. He had the nerve to complain to Chuck about there not being enough beer in the house and called him a "mother-f***er." They were picking, I know. However, my mother HATED that kind of language and I hate that kind of language. I asked him politely not to talk that way in the house. Rather than saying, "Sorry." He does that immature, "eeewwww." sound that people make when they're acting like someone is trying to be tough and they're going to make fun of them. Yeah, I lost it. I told him if he was going to act that way to get the he** out of my mother's house. He left me alone after that. Then I was sitting on the fire place holding Alex and another one of my cousins does something mean. The ABC dog that my mom bought for Alex (it was their favorite toy to play with together) was on the floor next to the couch. Rather than picking it up and moving it, he kicked it out into the middle of the floor! I lost it. I threw all of Alex's toys in a laundry basket and moved with him back to the very back room where nobody could find us. I cried and cried and tried to play with Alex.
I had never felt so cut off from the Mexican side of my family. I don't think they realize that I speak quite a bit of Spanish. I'm not fluent-fluent, but I know what they're saying when they talk to each other. I think they only showed up to pay their respects to my mom and have no intentions of staying in touch with us now that she's gone.
Anyway, something more pleasant to talk about. My son was a true light during this time of darkness. He always managed to bring a smile to my face and my father's face. I think he helped keep my dad from getting too depressed.
I have more to say but Brandon needs me to go cut his hair. I shall finish venting when I'm done with that.
I got a phone call at 4 in the morning that Saturday from the hospital telling me that my mom was dead and my dad couldn't speak he was in such terrible shape. I freaked. I told myself it had to be a bad dream (the two previous night I had actually dreamed about Brandon passing away and leaving Alex and me alone.) I quickly called my dad and he managed to tell me that they think it was a heart attack and he needed me there as quickly as possible. I packed Brandon, Alex, and myself as quickly as possible and we drove to Gilmer. I really just wanted to scream, the pain was so intense in my heart and soul. We got to the hospital about 7 am, my dad was still there and he was heart broken. We went into the hospital and I saw my mom's body. She looked like she was sleeping. I just cried and cried and cried. I could only be there for just a minute with her, it was so hard to see her and realize it wasn't a dream. My mother was truly gone. We drove to the house and my dad and I just cried and cried. We made a couple of phone calls. My brothers were the hardest to get a hold of. One of them was in Utah, the other was in Chicago. Dad and I did what we could to find insurance papers and everything. We went to the funeral home and began to arrange the funeral. I had a pretty strong composure about that time. I knew I had to be strong for my dad. We chose the casket, called the church and arranged for a priest for the funeral.
The next few days were a blur for me.
My second older brother, Chuck, arrived. He had to act like the super tough guy so we wouldn't know just how much he was hurting. I think he was surprised to learn how much Dad and I had accomplished without his help. He took charge of making phone calls and dealing with annoying creditors that were calling my mom's cell phone.
My eldest brother, Richie, arrived and he was great moral support. He's not the most responsible or the most knowlegeable about arranging funerals and dealing with paperwork, but when you need a hug he's there.
We all went to mass Sunday morning. All of us had to walk out halfway through because we were crying so much. The deacon was kind enough to loan me a book with funeral readings and hymns. I picked those out and typed them up for the lady that was helping arrange the funeral.
My grandmother arrived Monday with one of my uncles, my grandfather, my cousin and his pregnant girlfriend. She cried and wailed and cried. I tried to calm her down and explain to her, but she just couldn't understand what had happened to my mom and how she had died. None of us could really grasp the idea that she had really passed away.
That night we had the viewing and a rosary. A lot of distant relatives arrived before the viewing and came out to the house to talk to my grandmother. They were mostly speaking Spanish. I had an idea of what they were talking about, but I was too befuddled to keep up conversation. My grandfather and I had words. He has a way of hiding his grief by acting like a real jerk. The one time I tried to get something to eat for the first time since I had gotten the news about my mom, he was there at the table. He told me that I wasn't really going to miss my mom and I didn't need to eat because I was already fat enough. I threw away my plate and went back to taking care of Alex.
Tuesday we had the funeral. The priest was wonderful. The funeral director was wonderful. I don't think I have ever cried harder in my life. Chuck and I lectored for the mass. I didn't entirely break down until we were walking out of the church after mass. I bawled and bawled. We had the blessing of the grave site then the priest offered up some more prayers. They didn't lower her down into the ground until everyone was gone. I had to speak in broken Spanish to invite everyone at the funeral back to the house for lunch. I guess I did okay since mostly everyone showed up to eat.
There was a little bit of family drama after the funeral back at the house. I nearly threw one of my cousins out of the house. He is older than my brother Richie but he acts like he's 13. He had the nerve to complain to Chuck about there not being enough beer in the house and called him a "mother-f***er." They were picking, I know. However, my mother HATED that kind of language and I hate that kind of language. I asked him politely not to talk that way in the house. Rather than saying, "Sorry." He does that immature, "eeewwww." sound that people make when they're acting like someone is trying to be tough and they're going to make fun of them. Yeah, I lost it. I told him if he was going to act that way to get the he** out of my mother's house. He left me alone after that. Then I was sitting on the fire place holding Alex and another one of my cousins does something mean. The ABC dog that my mom bought for Alex (it was their favorite toy to play with together) was on the floor next to the couch. Rather than picking it up and moving it, he kicked it out into the middle of the floor! I lost it. I threw all of Alex's toys in a laundry basket and moved with him back to the very back room where nobody could find us. I cried and cried and tried to play with Alex.
I had never felt so cut off from the Mexican side of my family. I don't think they realize that I speak quite a bit of Spanish. I'm not fluent-fluent, but I know what they're saying when they talk to each other. I think they only showed up to pay their respects to my mom and have no intentions of staying in touch with us now that she's gone.
Anyway, something more pleasant to talk about. My son was a true light during this time of darkness. He always managed to bring a smile to my face and my father's face. I think he helped keep my dad from getting too depressed.
I have more to say but Brandon needs me to go cut his hair. I shall finish venting when I'm done with that.