She lived her life with strength...

This post has been a long time coming.  And yet, some days (like today) it feels like yesterday.   In about 2.5 weeks I will experience the third anniversary of my mother's death.  The first year I mourned each change in seasons, each holiday, and each 17th of the month.  I sat everyday with the knowledge of no longer having a mother, and some days that thought brought me to my knees.  The rest of the time I lived in a fog.  I went through the motions but with muted feelings.  Going into the second year the fog lifted.  The knowledge of no longer having a mother was painful, but that was muted.  I remember a cousin once saying the second year was harder, and I remember living that year in fear of an intense grief moment.  It never came.  For this I am so grateful. The year leading to the third anniversary has been difficult  in ways I did not anticipate.  I have sat with the little moments of what it means to no longer have a mother. And it's the little moments which have a piercing pain.

I will never have a mother to be there when I have a wedding shower.  Or a wedding day.
She will not be with me when I experience motherhood.  There will be no moments of joy, sadness, and humor in trading horror stories of parenthood.
She is not here.

A year after my grandmother died I was able to write about her life.  It has taken me until now to be able to tell my mother's story.

She was born to a teen mother forced to drop out of high school and marry her sort of boyfriend.  She was born 6 weeks early, and from birth needed to be fighter.  In many ways she spent her life fighting to survive.

She was the oldest of 4 children, but lived and died never meeting a sister that was placed for adoption.  With my aunt and uncle she was protective, loving, jealous, and all the things children are to their siblings.  From childhood she felt not as loved by her parents as her siblings.  This feeling she carried into every relationship her whole life.  I used to wonder how much love would be enough to make her feel content.

My mother was not  a great student, and after graduating high school she went right into the workforce.   At her funeral one friend from high school described her as having a big heart, but at times hard in spirit.  This friend was actually worried about my mother having children; she worried about her being cold.  She then went on to say that my mother's personality changed when she had me. My mother was full of love for her babies in a way this friend had never seen.

She was 23 when she met and married my father.  She thought he would be enough to make her happy.   She always felt betrayed that he wasn't.  Their marriage was not something I remember with fondness, and even as a child I wonder why in the world they married.

She had two children by 25 and was separated by 34.  It is a weird feeling for me to be almost 34 with no husband or children.

She was strong, selfless to her friends, funny, and smart.  She loved to read, bake, and watch sitcoms.  She could be fiercely protective.

She was also mentally ill and went most of her life being undiagnosed.  Her moments of frantic activity warred with the moments where I felt a cold detachment in her.  She lived her world in great extremes and I grew up with the idea that people were treated in all or nothing philosophies.  She also lived with strong convictions that others treated her as less than. In many ways this would end up being a self fulfilling prophesy.

My mother's mental illness was not something I understood as a child or even as a young adult. I know it confused me, angered me, and scared me.  I watched her throw friends and family away in moments of confusing irrational emotions.

As an older young adult, her mental illness exhausted me.  I was not the daughter I could have been, or the daughter I wished I had been.  I feared being her caretaker.  I feared her in the moments I would one day experience. I feared her reactions at my wedding.  I feared having to tell her she was not safe to be left alone with my child.  I was not as loving or as affectionate as I could have been.

For the first year I was quietly devastated at the thought that my mother committed suicide. On the day they found her body I knew in my heart and soul that she committed suicide.  I thought it was an overdose in a moment of confusion.  In her last year of life she had been mixing pills to an alarming degree.  It made sense in an awful way that this could happen in a moment of big emotion.  And then in December of the year she died I received a phone call from her medical doctor that no medication at all was found in her system.  And I realized right then my mother consciously chose to stop cold turkey all her medications with the knowledge that doing this would hurt if not kill her.  I know this because before the day she died one of her biggest fears in life was not having her medications on her at all times.  Two days before she died she went to her doctor.  The doctor and all the staff reported my mother being happier that they had ever seen her.  I am glad she was able to feel this joy.

When she died people told me she was in a better place.  That she was at peace.  My life will be spent knowing that she knew of my fears and in a moment took all the choices away from me.  My life is spent knowing that her better place is away from me.

In this time leading up to the third anniversary I sit with knowing that she is in peace, and that she is in a better place.  She is filled with love, joy, and all things good.   My heart will always with a sadness of what she lived through and all the moments she will miss.

Every day I strive to remember the good in my mother, and in the words of Mary J. Blige in speaking of her own mother, "I blame her for nothing, and forgive her of everything."

I have been listening to the song, "Forever" by Vertical Horizon.  Some of the lyrics struck me tonight.

"And I don't know if you feel me there
I can tell you one thing that's clear
I will feel you
Forever"

It's okay to be gay....


Where ever you are in the world (even if it's Tennesee), it's okay to be gay. 


You are a beautiful child of God no matter your sexuality. It's okay to be gay.


No matter what ignorant people say (or don't say) about you or the ones you love, it's okay to be gay.


One day I hope their hearts will soften, and they will no longer be afraid.  But even if they never change, it's okay to be gay.


And if you live in Tennesee and cannot say gay, then remember, it's okay to be Takei. 

Another day of learning new things about myself...

The good:
*I can make an incredible sugar scrub that smells like macaroons. I like smelling like cookies.

*I can force myself to stay awake at work while drugged out on muscle relaxers and ibuprofen.

*I have sweet coworkers who will drive me to Sonic because I took said medications. Diet Dr. pepper with diet cherry flavoring is my fave.

*I have lost 9 lbs going low fat/no carb.

*I found a low fat sugar free ice cream. And I did not eat the whole thing in one sitting.

*My pretty new luggage should be arriving tomorrow.

The challenging:
*I cannot actually work while drugged out on muscle relaxers and ibuprofen. I just shuffle papers around and try not to slump over at my desk drooling. I sent emails out to people and tomorrow I will recheck them to see if they made sense.

*I have 6 weeks until I go on a Caribbean vacation and my body is still pasty, my arms are still jiggly like a lunch lady, and my tummy still looks like I should have interesting birthing stories. And I can't really do anything about my arms or tummy because I pulled a muscle in my neck and shoulder area this weekend. Hence my current medication regime.

*No matter how old I get or how drugged I am, it is hard to let go of negative things people say about me.

*I cannot cook a steak medium rare. But if you want a tough, chewy overly well done steak, then call me and I will share my secrets.

Ebates is offering cash back for referrals until the end of the month...

I shop through this and have already earned cash back. And through the end of the month, if you join, and then refer people you get $5.00 for every new referral.

It gets easier right?

I didn't really acknowledge Mother's Day last year. The day felt like a blur to me. This year I felt better so I decided to send Mother's Day cards to all the amazing moms I know. As I started writing the first card I burst into tears. Not even pretty tears either. I cried the ugly tears I cry when I see a Folgers commercial during that time of the month (in my defense those families are just so damn happy to get a cup of coffee). My weekend is packed full of moms and Mother's Day activities. On Monday I was excited to get to participate in so many activities, but now I think this is gonna hurt a little. Sigh.

"Afraid what you're gonna do, in this phase you're going through." Chosen One by One Eskimo

I spent the evening with a friend's 16 year old daughter. She sees her dads every other weekend, and while visiting I am her lifeline to the female perspective (because of the gay dads). She is also someone who could be my daughter. She's a little awkward, overweight, and she overcompensates by being everything to everyone. Sometimes it's like watching a train wreck. Sometimes it's like talking to the girl I was.

And tonight she was 16, feeling less than other girls, and sad not to have the boy she wanted.

For her and (for myself) I said this:

Your life now will not always be the same. Things will change and hopefully for the better. The very act of change will make some things better.
You deserved to be valued, appreciated, and loved.
You should not speak poorly of yourself. People will make comments your whole life about how you can be better. Ignore that and honor all that is good in you. You do not have the right to hurt your momma's baby girl.
You will one day find a boy (or man) who sees you as you are and loves every darn thing about you.
Take care of your skin.
Boys will do and say dumb things as long as you live.
I am so proud of the person you are.

I remember being 16 and feeling less than everyone else. No one said I would be 32 still struggling. Sigh.

"I don't wanna be a doctor! I want to be a princess!" ---My sobbing niece at 4 years old

True story: When my niece was 4 a very nice lady told her: "I hope you become a doctor someday." This is apparently a blessing Arab women bestow on children. My niece was having none of that. She burst into tears, and the above was her reply. When my sis told me I burst out laughing because there are times I would much rather be a princess than a doctor.

I did not think I would get caught up in the royal wedding drama. All week long I have been watching snippets on the news, but not really caring about it either way. Then tonight I couldn't sleep. I honestly felt like I was missing something if I tried to sleep. Part of this is due to the fact that I am a wedding whore. I love weddings. Every thing about them is fun to me. Except the tanning some brides do (side note: I am on week 2 of the summer tan-a-thon and barely kept myself from running topless from my coffin a few days ago, But I lasted 9 minutes this time so there's hope I won't be blindingly pale for vacation). I just love the pomp and circumstance and the tradition.

Did I also mention I love to read romance novels?

Apparently these two parts of my personality have created the perfect storm. I am sitting here at 2am anxiously awaiting the wedding. It is a fairy tale that someone can wake up a "commoner" and by lunch be a princess. I am pretty sure this will give my niece hope that she won't have to become a doctor to be successful. I keep thinking of my niece tonight, and the thought of how different life would be as a princess. Somethings may be easier or fun, but even if I was promised a 65 million dollar wedding (apparently how much Charles and Camilla paid) I don't think I could do it. I love my privacy, and I think it should be okay to punch someone trying to take a pic of my underwear as I leave a car. But if there are any Dukes out there looking for a good time I am pretty sure I could be a Duchess.

I hope Kate and Wills are happy. I hope that they are able to lead a life full of joy and love. I hope that I don't fall asleep at work tomorrow.

The things you learn about yourself...

Tonight was the first time I have ever used a tanning bed, and in some ways it was the longest 7 minutes of my life. I was told it would be warm and relaxing. From the moment I put the lid down and the eye goggles on I had to tell myself I was not in an oven coffin. I am not usually a claustrophobic person so this was something new I learned about me (yay for that moment of self awareness). I took deep breathes, I repeatedly told myself I was safe, and I focused on not screaming for help or ripping the goggles from my eyes. Thankfully all my psych tricks worked, and the timer went off smoothly.

The whole reason to enter the death trap is for an upcoming vacation to the Caribbean. My poor body doesn't see a lot of sun naturally, so I have to prepare to spend a week at a beach.

I have to go back 9 times. I am hoping the deep breathing gets easier. And I hope I don't come away looking Snooki-ish.

What did you learn about yourself today?

The cost of being free

I just read an article that the government is trying to eliminate 90% of Planned Parenthood's funding. I was in college for 10 years and during 6 of those years I had no insurance. Planned Parenthood was the place I went when I needed lady care. I am the first to admit that government overspends on bogus things. But this feels ugly. Feel what ever you want about abortions, but they are legal. Taking almost the entire budget of PP won't make them go away, in part because federal funding does not pay for them, unless they are the victim of incest or rape. But don't take money away from clinics that help people. All this is going to do is make life harder and scarier for people who lack the resources that all the Senators and Representatives take for granted. I had a health scare when I was in graduate school and PP was the only place I could afford. The staff was so nice, and I felt safe there. I hope someone in the government vetos this horrible idea. I am doubtful that anyone in government cares about anyone not considered tea party material. I Stand With Planned Parenthood.

The Whole Pie

For the last two weeks I have had pain in my shoulder, back and left rib cage. It came on slowly and at first I attributed it to many things. The one thing I refused to think was heart attack.

So of course I kept thinking it.

When the pain only got worse this week I put on my big girl panties and made a doctor's appointment. I hate going to the doctor. And I tried not to think heart attack.

So every moment I thought my heart was going to give out. Not a cool week for me to be living alone.

I admit I am a worst case scenario gal at my best. Constantly hoping this wasn't a heart attack only made it worse.

All day long I half thought my doctor visit would end with open heart surgery. Did I mention I go to bad places when I worry?

I talked with many people who have felt what I am feeling. No one was diagnosed with a heart attack so I began to calm down a bit.

My doctor's visit went fine. I have chest inflammation, and my doctor is having me tested for arthritis and Lupus. I absolutely do not want either of those things, but my visit didn't end with surgery so I am happy.

As I was in line waiting for my meds at the pharmacy I began to talk to the lady ahead of me. We were both frustrated by the long line and lack of pharmacists. She was eager to get her meds. "Me too." I said with a smile. And then I told her my diagnosis.

Then she told me she was picking up meds for her husband. He was too sick to wait in the line. In a smaller voice she said, "It's cancer."

And once again I realized that I was fortunate.

I asked what kind and she said melanoma that spread to his lungs and his brain. He has already lived 5 weeks over the doctor's estimate, but the pressure in his brain is getting worse. She is picking up his last round of pain meds. She got teary.

And I tried not to cry too. Damn being a social crier.

I thought of life being a series of blessings and curses. How blessed was he to live as long as he has, but there is pain in knowing that his time will never feel long enough.

And then she talked about the meds that she was picking up for him. One was a steroid that was going to relieve all the pain in his head. He was concerned about taking steroids and told his doctor.

To which his wife replied, "Now's the time that you get to eat the whole pie Larry if you want to." We both chuckled about a dying man being worried about steroids.

My pain is a little better now that I have meds, but I can't get Larry and his wife out of my mind.

My wish is that his last days are spent surrounded by all that he loves. May she have the strength and grace to help him through. I hope they both eat pie.

Goals for the new year....

In many ways 2010 was all about reflections and remembrance. At times it felt like every breath I took was a reminder of all that I lost in 2009. Thoughts of my mother, and my own regrets in being her daughter, have been my constants. As time marched on some regrets have dimmed, but many remain. My goal for 2011 is to honor myself and remember my goodness. Last week I heard this song from Pink, and it has become my theme song. Enjoy! Oh, and FYI, the song has f bombs galore!

As the year of firsts draws to it's end....

I burst into tears while driving to my friends house for dinner on Friday. Thankfully it wasn't ugly crying, as I am easily prone to that. I was sitting in the car listening to my ipod, not thinking of anything, and then it hit me. A year ago that day was the last time I ever hugged my mom or saw her alive. And out came the tears. It has been awhile since I have cried in my car, and the funny thing is that most of my grieving this year has been done in my car. Someone told me that was her experience too after her mom died.

I have been so concerned with getting through the 14th (the day she possibly died) and the 17th (the day she was found) that the 10th creeped up on me.

They say the first year is the hardest. It has been true for me. I have felt a sense of loss at every change in season, and every event she is no longer here for. I am still shocked that she has been gone for a year.

I have a feeling this week is going to be painful.

Reflections on a Steel Magnolia....

It has been a year since my grandmother passed away. Two weeks later my mother died, and I was so overwhelmed with that loss that I don't know if I ever properly mourned my grandma. Really is there a proper way to mourn? All I know is she has been on my mind for a while.

I miss her weird mix of optimism and bitterness. Life was tough for her from the moment she was born until the day she died. She was born the oldest daughter in a poor family. She began working in the fields picking produce at the age when children today enter kindergarten. Until the day she died she refused to eat figs because of a job she had picking them as a child. She grew up with a mother who had mental health issues and drug addictions and because of the lack of resources there was no respite from her madness. What little I know about her relationship with her mother, it was not filled with many happy memories. I wonder if those experiences were preparing her to have a child with severe mental health issues.

She became pregnant with my mom when she was a sophomore in high school. She was kicked out of school and forced to marry my biological grandfather. There is only one picture of her pregnant and I have never seen a more miserable looking person. Aside from being forced to marry someone she didn't love, being kicked out of high school which had been a place she felt competent and happy, broke her heart.

She would have 4 children with my biological grandfather. It was a turbulent marriage, and she was forced to give her youngest daughter up for adoption because my grandfather was convinced she was cheating on him. She never spoke of this child, but somehow the adoptive mother contacted my uncle several years ago seeking health information. She never said her name or her daughter's name, but listed my grandma and her husband as the biological parents. Amazingly, my mom who could word vomit with the best of them never mentioned her sister to my grandma. I can't even imagine how she felt knowing a piece of her heart was lost to her.

Eventually she divorced her husband and did what ever she could to survive. She worked the night shift as a waitress (she wasn't allowed to be a bartender because she was a woman) and had a day job too. She used to carry a gun in her purse because she worked in bad neighborhoods. She accepted any and all charity and she credited different churches in my city for helping keep her children fed and clothed when times were tough.

She loved her family and she loved her children, but I don't think she knew how to parent my uncle. I think she saw too much of her husband in him, and so as a teenager he moved out of the house. Their relationship would always be filled with long periods of separation.

Around the time my mother was 10 she met the man who would become my grandpa. They married and for many years I thought they were happy. It's funny how little you know as a child. My grandma was very good at keep up appearances.

When I was 12 my grandma got sick and developed pneumonia. My grandfather left her while she was still in the hospital. It was years before I would even talk to him after that. Eventually I forgave him, but I never forgot how easy it was for him to leave. The funny thing was, I think my grandma was much happier without being married to him. For years he would come over to our house and just have coffee with her, and I think that was all she needed in that relationship. Life taught her to have low expectations.

When she got out of the hospital she moved in with my mom, my brother, and me. It was both the agony and the ecstasy. She did so much for me that I will never be able to repay. She was also an ally when my mom got really sick. I am ashamed to say that I put a lot on her shoulders because of how overwhelmed my mom made me feel.

She lived with my mom for 17 years. She took care of my mom and tried her best to make her better. When my grandma was at her sickest she refused to leave her home because my mom needed someone to take care of her.

She was an amazing cook, gardener, and pianist. She was never classically trained but she always knew she could play the piano. When she was 40 she bought a piano and low and behold she could play it.

She was fiercely independent and hated throwing away her belongings. When she was a child her mother would randomly throw out her clothes and belongings, and she never got over feeling so powerless and dependent on people.

I was her favorite. I say this knowing it was a blessing and a curse. She would treat me nicer than other family members and especially nicer than my brother. Life taught her that men were not to be trusted. Within my family I was both ignored on my father's side, and the golden child on my mother's. Neither is an enviable position.

My grandma loved holidays and celebrations. She loved giving gifts and would spend months finding the right presents for everyone. I got my love of presents and giving gifts from her. She hated receiving presents though. It made her uncomfortable to be the center of attention. On that we differ.

She taught me so much and more than anything I wish her life had been easier. I am so grateful for her love and support. She was so proud of my education and my career. I wish I had been able to support her more.

Tonight my best friend will be coming over for dinner. We will honor and celebrate my grandma by having all her favorite foods. I will remember the woman who worked so hard to support her family and who gave tirelessly of her talent and her love.

I will remember her always. And one day when I have grandchildren i will teach them to make meatballs, cookies, and to drink coffee while you watch soap operas. I will love them as she loved me. And I will treat them all as my favorites. Even the boys.

"The right to marry, is the right of individuals, not of racial groups." - Judge Roger Traynor, California Judge overturning the interracial marriage ban in 1948.

In the last two weeks California has made news. First for overturning Prop 8 on August 5, 2010 (thumbs way up). Today the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals voted to put a stay on gay marriage until the Supreme Court rules (bummer). I hear this will happen quickly. Quickly being December. People are once again in an uproar at the thought of gay men and women having the right to marry. They speak of America losing it's morality. The horror that Americans may have their vote on this proposition overturned. It will destroy our moral fiber, our businesses and ruin our children. I decided to take a look back on America and their thoughts on keeping marriage safe.

In 1664 the first laws banning whites from marrying blacks came about in Mass.
In 1769 the courts ruled that during marriage, the wife's legal and physical rights were suspended and given to her husband.
In 1839 Mississippi allowed women to own property with their husband's permission.
in 1993 all 50 states finally recognized that when women are raped by their husbands it is still rape. The first time it was considered rape was in 1978.

Reading up on American History hasn't really sold me on the idea of marriage benefiting me as a woman. It was kind of like spending any time talking to my dad who is anti-marriage after being divorced for 20 years. Thanks be I was born in an age where I have rights, and am considered equal to my husband. Even typing that made me angry for the women who came before me.

Now for some famous quotes on thoughts of interracial marriage:

"Almighty God created the races, white, black, yellow, malay and red, and he placed them on separate continents. And but for the interference with his arrangement there would be no cause for such marriages. The fact that he separated the races shows that he did not intend for the races to mix." 1967 case of Loving v. Commonwealth of Virginia

"No brutality, no infamy, no degradation in all the years of southern slavery, possessed such villainious character and such atrocious qualities as the provision of the laws of Illinois, Massachusetts, and other states which allow the marriage of the negro, Jack Johnson, to a woman of Caucasian strain. [applause]. Gentleman, I offer this resolution ... that the States of the Union may have an opportunity to ratify it. ... Intermarriage between whites and blacks is repulsive and averse to every sentiment of pure American spirit. It is abhorrent and repugnant to the very principles of Saxon government. It is subversive of social peace. It is destructive of moral supremacy, and ultimately this slavery of white women to black beasts will bring this nation a conflict as fatal as ever reddened the soil of Virginia or crimsoned the mountain paths of Pennsylvania. ... Let us uproot and exterminate now this debasing, ultra-demoralizing, un-American and inhuman leprosy"
-Seaborn Roddenberry US Senator 1912

At some point in our American History it was illegal (and considered immoral and against God's will) for a white person to marry a Native American, African American, Hispanic, Asian, Hawaiian, Filipino, Indian, and anyone considered Non-White. In Arizona in 1942 a section of this law was added to prevent anyone with mixed blood from marrying at all. I am part Choctaw, so that would mean I would get to be spinster for life. It has only been in the last 43-60 years that these laws have been overturned.

I am both glad and saddened this decision is going to the Supreme Court. I have every faith that the court will rule in favor of gay marriage. I am sad that in 2010 we still need the courts to protect the civil rights of the minorities against the fear of the majority.

We have come far in our views of marriage, but I hope that when my children are grown and ready to marry, there won't be interracial marriage, gay marriage, or heterosexual marriage. Just marriage.

Someday I will look back and laugh at the fears I had regarding being fired....

Or I will feel a sense of awe that I had a flash into the future. Today I feel like it could go either way. As I was sitting at work today, after a public shaming by my manager, I realized that I don't trust my own greatness. I am so afraid of failing, because I feel like I am not good enough. I seriously feel like I could be fired any time from my job. And I would not be surprised.

Part of my fear is due to the crappy HR dept. at my job. Several people (who were incompetent) were let go after taking time off. I have been sick with food poisoning for the last 5 days (missing 3 days of work) and I walk in to the clinical director wanting to talk to me. I walk in to his office at 9am and wonder if I will lose my job this morning. I felt a sense of panic, and I tried to remain calm, but inside I was planning on moving in with my dad, putting my stuff in storage, and becoming a janitor (probably at my job which would be the ultimate). At the meeting the director (who is one of my best friends) tells me I do not have enough sick time to have 3 days off, and if I submit a sick time request a red flag will be set off in HR. Awesome. So I make it work, but being sick for 3 days means I now have to go to work on the anniversary of my mom death and when her body was found. Double awesome.

All day long I have felt not good enough. The afternoon meeting in which the manager highlighted all the ways I file wrong didn't help. Having people tell me they need paperwork right away didn't help either. I stayed late (later than the janitor, so I guess that's something), did some paper work, but all the time I felt less than the others I work with.

I carried that feeling home with me tonight. In the back of my head I thought about what being unemployed would do to me. I felt fear, shame, and all these negative emotions. I let it define me for a minute.

But then I said fuck it. I am more than my job. I am more than my degree. I am more than this organization. If I lose my job tomorrow, then bully for them. I the best I can be, and for the people I work for this is enough. I help bring about change and healing and love. Today I am enough.

Dear Sprint,

You suck ass. And not pretty ass either. You suck old dirty ass. Thanks for sending me to collections because I forgot to send you the death certificate when my mom died. Thanks for adding early termination charges when I cancelled the plan. Because my mom died. And the best part one yet, thanks for letting my mom use my social security number when she signed up for the plan, so I am responsible for the phone charges. I will never use Sprint products, I will also advise my friends and family to avoid your company like it is the black plague. You want the 361 dollars because you lost out when my mom died. I hope you choke on it.

Sincerely,
Lorelai

I get that I am a freak. Please stop making me say it.

Tonight I decided to treat myself to getting my eyebrows threaded and a pedicure. Really I have a to attend a wedding in a few days, and I don't want to look like Joan Crawford a la later years. I avoid threading as long as possible (because I was hate pain), but I was starting to look like my eyebrows had eyebrows. I even put numbing cream on my eyebrows to make it hurt less (which I don't think works, or I am just really a wimp). So when I went in tonight and shamefully said, "It's been a couple of months, please be gentle." She was as gentle as possible, but she kept going on and on about how my eyebrows were uneven and I needed to stop plucking the left one. Over and over I said, this is natural. Finally I said, "Sorry my eyebrows are freakish, but this is as good as it gets." Once she finished she asked me one last time to stop plucking the left one. I told her I would.

"Good news, your mother died of a heart attack."

I had a bad feeling when I answered the phone, and I should have listened to my inner voice. The caller was my mother's doctor called me and that is what the receptionist told me.

Just so we're clear, this is not good news. I get that you are excited this means your shady medical practices with my mom won't be called into question. But to call me happy is just gross.

Of course you need a crowbar to open the urns. Makes total sense to me.

I had all these thoughts for how the scattering would go. I found prayers from all over the world, I cut flowers, and I even brought a small cup of Pepsi and coffee (my mom and grandma's favorite drinks). I hoped for something that was respectful and maybe even classy. Stanley went with me to pick up the bodies. They handed Stanley the urns and me the permits to scatter ashes. And away we went.

Lesson #1 ask the funeral people how to open the damn box.

Jump to me, Carl and Stanley freezing at 930 at night on the end of a pier trying to pry open the urns. Those things were closed like a Japanese puzzle box. Pulling, pushing, and a Swiss army knife did not work. Finally Carl remembered he had a crowbar in his car we used that to open them up. Lesson #2 buy a crow bar to keep in my car.

At one point this lovely couple came over to the end of the pier, no doubt to have a romantic moment. They glanced over at us trying to pry the box apart (Carl handling the crowbar and Stanley and I prying the lid back). The operation became klassy.

An hour after we arrived we finally opened all the urns. Due to wind factors we had to kneel on the end of the pier to let them go. In the first go around Stanley dumped grandma, and I took one of the dogs. I tried not to freak about the thought of kneeling in bird poop, as I poured out the dog. I was not good at pouring and some of the ash ended up on the edge of the pier. Without thinking I tried to sweep the ash off the edge with my shoe. Now my shoe has dead dog on it. Lesson #3 bring a broom the next time ashes need to be dumped.

At this point I am freaking out at the ash on my shoe, and make Carl finish scattering dog ashes. As Stanley begins to lower my mom I remember the flowers and the drinks and pour them off the pier. The cup I brought poured out in a way that looked like I was peeing off the edge of the pier. Which is how the night should have ended.

Towards the end of the whole blessed affair Carl asked me if I wanted to say a prayer or poem. I told him no, I didn't need to. At that point I just wanted to clean my shoe (which I did with both water and hand sanitizer), a drink (which Stanley thoughtfully brought), and to warm up. The next day we went out to the pier in the light of day. I wondered how far the ashes traveled, and then I looked down at a chalk like mark at the end of the pier and said hi to the dog.

I don't know how I was supposed to feel after this. Websites said I would feel all sorts of different things. They showed pictures of people looking happy to scatter their loved ones. I am grateful that I wasn't covered in ash, and I hope they are okay with the choice I made. And above all, I wished I did not have to do it.

Friends help you move. Real friends help you move dead bodies.

I have been thinking of this quote all week as I think of two of my best friends, Carl and Stanley. Not only were they an amazing resource for me with all the craziness of funeral and reception planning, but they are the most helpful people I know. On the day my mom died my uncle told me that when my mom's ashes were ready to be picked up I could just pick up my grandmother's ashes too. Awe. Some.

From the beginning they have said that they will help me figure out how to scatter 4 sets of ashes (mom, grandma and two dogs). And let me tell you, yesterday I looked online for suggestions in making the scattering more respectful, and I came away more disturbed then ever. Through this whole process I have been overwhelmed, stressed, angry at unhelpful people, and absolutely blessed with all the good people in my life.

It's funny the things I have learned about myself through this process. One is that I am terrified that when I try to scatter their ashes I will then be covered in dead people/animals. And the second is that I am really freaked out about the thought of looking at my mom or grandma's ashes. When the time comes to scatter them I know I can count of Carl and Stanley to help me do whatever I need to. Even if that means making them dump them while I stand far far away.

Okay I really learned three things about myself. The third being I am very disrespectful of this entire process. When ever I talk about scattering the ashes I use the words "dump the bodies." I guess a career as a funeral director is not in my cards.

This week has been a whirwind of emotions, but I am always comforted by the support of my friends and family.