We do death well….our family. Let it bare its teeth at one of us, and we drive in from far and near and go to work. Just recently we gardened, repainted a whole inside interior, cleaned, scrubbed, washed, and waxed the house of one of our own, whose husband just committed suicide. We let go of political or any bias and worked to make her home something she could come back to—brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, mothers, fathers. I love that in us, this clan tribe thing we can summon up when the chip is down and busted.
I was reminded of the long-ago autumn melanoma locked its pitbull jaws into my sister, and we knew it was over. We drove in from far and wide on clear autumn weekends, kids tumbling out of cars like a clown act, and gardened and cleaned and talked and cooked and did whatever we could for her. We loved her to death.
Posted in Before Versailles, Charles II, creativity, Dark Angels, family, George I, historical fiction, Houston, Karleen Koen, Louis XIV, Louise de la Valliere, Now Face to Face, sisters, story and character, story and family, Through A Glass Darkly, writing, writing process
Tagged character, clan, family, sister, story and theme, suicide, tribe, writing
I took my mother to see her sister in Florida. My uncle was flying in for a reunion of the siblings. Mom has mild to moderate Alzheimer’s. It was a driving trip and hard for us both. She was a trooper but confused, overwhelmed by choices and new places and the familiar being always unfamiliar. She had very much wanted to go to Florida, but by the time I dropped her off she was fretful, quietly upset, and ready to go home. Within a day, she was soothed, but all of us realized that her days of traveling zestfully to other places were over.
She and her sister are close. Theirs has been a vibrant, loving relationship. They were black belt shoppers and mothers of large families. They exchanged clothes and wore the same hair-dos. The day before I brought her back, I was so aware that my mom will never go to her sister’s home again, sit in those comfortable rooms with all the photos of family, sit on the porch, drink coffee, talk about children or weather or husbands or the weight they’ve gained or lost. It’s another ending for Mom. She doesn’t know it; that’s the kindness, I guess. But I felt it, felt sadness and loss and life’s moving on, its steel-edged inevitability.
I felt the same during my sister’s last weeks. I walked the yard, daffodils ready to bloom everywhere, with my college-age daughter and thought, my sister will never do this, this very simple, we take it so for granted thing, with her grown daughter. It hurt in the most exquisite way––life’s hardness and our fragility, death and rebirth, luck and that which will be.
Posted in Before Versailles, character, creativity, Dark Angels, family, Houston, Karleen Koen, life, love, mothers, Now Face to Face, sisters, story and character, story and family, Through A Glass Darkly
Tagged Add new tag, Alzheimer's, another ending for my mother, Karleen Koen, life, mother, sister