Saturday, September 15, 2012

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Life is a Lemon And I Want My Money Back

 1.     When was the last time that you asked for your money back? I recently returned a blouse to Macy’s. Buyer’s remorse.

2.     What was the last thing that you did to help someone? I have been working very hard to be sensitive to my niece and nephew since their grandma (my mother) died. They are trying so hard to be strong!

3.     At what point of your life do you think you started to understand who you are? In my mid-thirties.

4.     Are there times when you thought you had taken a fall, only to discover more about yourself? I have discovered through adversity that I am a tough old broad.

5.     What was the last thing you did where you could not believe in what you were doing? Not sure I understand the question. The last time I could not believe WHAT I was doing what I was doing was yesterday, when we were laughing in the funeral director’s office about music for my mother’s service. Her favorite song was “After the Loving” by Engelbert Humperdinck. Hardly appropriate for the occasion (or, well, anything). It was nice to be laughing affectionately with my sister and niece but surreal to be in this situation.

     The schmaltz & sideburns are for you, Mom!

6.     Do you think that you must struggle to become strong? I dunno. I think perhaps you is or you ain’t.

7.     Do you feel that your dreams have meaning or are entirely random? Yes. I mean, I think that reality and symbolism drive our dreams but elements are random.

8.     What was the last promise you broke? I feel bad about this, but I don’t think I’m going to take my mother’s cat, Nora. My mom only had the poor thing a few weeks when she got sick and went into the hospital two weeks ago. Nora isn’t comfortable around other cats (I have three) and has been rattling around, alone, in a big house without the TLC I think she needs and deserves. If I took her, I’d have to leave her closed up in my den until she could slowly adapt to life among my feline roommates, and that seems unfair. So to give her a crack at being a happy only cat in a forever home, I think Nora will be returning to the humane society. I know my mother would not approve, but I have to put my own cats’ welfare, and what’s right for Nora, first.

9.     Do you collect anything? Cats. Because, let’s face it, I may back down and take Nora anyway.

Thank you, Everyone!

I read the messages of support and condolence when I posted that my mom died. I am touched by how kind everyone was!*

I am more authentically myself on this blog than I am anywhere else. Certainly more so than  Facebook. Possibly even more than in real life. So your messages of support here feel just as authentic and real as the Hallmark card that came in the mail.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

*SHOUT OUT TO VIVIAN: I saw your comment about Sir Paul in St. Louis. Are you the most adorable blog buddy or what! I am too worried about money and time off work just now to even consider it. But please know it made me so happy. You touched my heart.

Day for Night

I don't know how much of it is stress, or grief, or terror, or the remnants of my flu, but I don't sleep like other people any more. I become exhausted in the afternoons and sleep so that I can wake up after midnight. This is not smart.

My mommy died. 

I am overwhelmed. My mom had no life insurance. I have 30 days to come up with $10,000 to pay for the funeral, $2,000 for the burial and about $5,000 in estate/legal/court costs.

I now own a house, and all it's contents. And its reverse mortgage. Which means that until it sells -- and hey, good luck with that, Gal -- I'm now responsible for its insurance and maintenance and property taxes and utilities. Though while looking around for stuff, my nephew did find $1000 in cash and a never-used ATM card. (My mom didn't trust those cash machines.)

I am scared.

I was over at her house today, for the first time since she died, collecting tons of paperwork for the lawyer. I saw the vase of dried lavender stalks I brought back from Colonial Williamsburg. I saw her shower cap hanging on the back of the bathroom door.

She simply left the house one morning for a long Labor Day weekend. She not only didn't mean to leave me this mess, she didn't intend to leave me at all.

How I wish I had HER, and not her STUFF.