attn, Sad, re Mary Pearce Peacock
My grandmother passed away just before midnight on Sunday. Kevin and I had just arrived in Austin.
I know these things can't all happen when I'm home.
The funeral is tomorrow, and I have my mother's blessing to stay here and get my work done.
Needless to say, I'll likely be tracking the songs I wrote last month, when she was still sick, a tornado had hit, and the lights were off.
Thank you all for your sweetness, reiki, good thoughts, prayers and well wishes during her illness. It certainly helped. Go ahead and stop now, unless you want to send a little to my mother and uncles, who are handling everything.
Mom says she's ok. I'm likely going to cut my Austin trip short by a couple of days to get back to Arkansas to see her, after the funeral et. al has been dealt with and she might really need to lean on me and fall apart.
My only regret about missing all of this is that I would likely learn a lot about what I'll need to do when Mom goes.
But it's very difficult to wrap my brain around that at all.
I was a huge mess when Dad died, in 2004. All I really remember is crying constantly, that we had a ridiculous number of home-made pies on the dining room table, making pancakes and tuna salad (not together) with Kenllama and K in the middle of the night, running away to the back yard to climb the pear tree, and that K guarded the door while I took a nap.
Spookily, someone in my immediate family has died every three-ish years for the last while. It started in 2001 with my grandfather. Mamama is the third now.
But she's all right now, where she's gone, and I'm ok. Yesterday was rough, but I think the emotional tide is back under control for now. I am grateful to be in south Austin, among friends, when news like this hits. Everything is green, and all the spring energy, despite the chill in the air, has got me focused on the positive like a high power lens.
When it looks like a skeleton has stolen your grandmother's sweet face, though you can still kiss her on the cheek as she sleeps.... yeah. It's all right if it's time.
You can still die fighting
from a hospital bed
when it happens we will
sing your praises and
we will remember you
and all the sweet things
-me 'Sweet Mary'
carried away on the wings of morphine
homeward far over the sea
-Clandestine 'Miner's Lullabye' (quite possibly the sweetest, saddest song ever)
I know these things can't all happen when I'm home.
The funeral is tomorrow, and I have my mother's blessing to stay here and get my work done.
Needless to say, I'll likely be tracking the songs I wrote last month, when she was still sick, a tornado had hit, and the lights were off.
Thank you all for your sweetness, reiki, good thoughts, prayers and well wishes during her illness. It certainly helped. Go ahead and stop now, unless you want to send a little to my mother and uncles, who are handling everything.
Mom says she's ok. I'm likely going to cut my Austin trip short by a couple of days to get back to Arkansas to see her, after the funeral et. al has been dealt with and she might really need to lean on me and fall apart.
My only regret about missing all of this is that I would likely learn a lot about what I'll need to do when Mom goes.
But it's very difficult to wrap my brain around that at all.
I was a huge mess when Dad died, in 2004. All I really remember is crying constantly, that we had a ridiculous number of home-made pies on the dining room table, making pancakes and tuna salad (not together) with Kenllama and K in the middle of the night, running away to the back yard to climb the pear tree, and that K guarded the door while I took a nap.
Spookily, someone in my immediate family has died every three-ish years for the last while. It started in 2001 with my grandfather. Mamama is the third now.
But she's all right now, where she's gone, and I'm ok. Yesterday was rough, but I think the emotional tide is back under control for now. I am grateful to be in south Austin, among friends, when news like this hits. Everything is green, and all the spring energy, despite the chill in the air, has got me focused on the positive like a high power lens.
When it looks like a skeleton has stolen your grandmother's sweet face, though you can still kiss her on the cheek as she sleeps.... yeah. It's all right if it's time.
You can still die fighting
from a hospital bed
when it happens we will
sing your praises and
we will remember you
and all the sweet things
-me 'Sweet Mary'
carried away on the wings of morphine
homeward far over the sea
-Clandestine 'Miner's Lullabye' (quite possibly the sweetest, saddest song ever)