When there is a Death

 It's been a week since my mother-in-law died and I have been processing it all, as one does. I am sad, yes. Even though she had been in declining health, even though I saw it coming, I am sad. There's an irrational human thought that time might suddenly reverse and the person will be miraculously healed and we'll all go on just as we have.

Or maybe that's just me.

It's still hard to be out among people, even family, although when I'm forced, I am grateful for the company. I do fear I could easily become a recluse.

Years ago I was on vacation with my grandmother and step-grandfather in New Orleans. We took a Greyline tour (aka the "Blue Hair Tour") and part of the guide's talk was about funeral rituals in the 18th century. They covered all the mirrors in the house with black fabric, everyone wore black for a year, and cards were sent out like birth announcements that announced the death. In other words, they MOURNED.

BTW, I really liked that tour.

I know how fast society moves, that there is an immediacy to the way we live, but we don't seem to slow down for Death these days. Emails still need answering, bills need paying, how quickly can we get the services done so we can go back to normal?

As if there's a normal we can go back to.

Dale had been taking care of his mother for months, spending days and weeks at the house, coming home for maybe 15 minutes to mow the lawn before running back to ensure her needs were met. This week, every time he leaves the house, I think he's going back to check on his mom before reality catches up to me and I correct myself. No, she's gone.

There are some logistical decisions that need to be made, but not now. We will mourn and celebrate her as a group at her service and then take care of everything else.

In the meantime, I am cleaning my house so that when we have the service, our home can comfortably host out-of-town guests. We may have none, we may have two, we may have a dozen. I've learned to be flexible.

I am taking notes about how to direct my family as I'm aging. After watching my husband and his brothers second-guess what to do to help their mom, I want to give Marcus (and Dale) a better feeling of clarity.

Hell, I'll probably write my own eulogy, just to make it easier on everyone.

I'll also post more about my mom-in-law Barbara, but not at the moment. I need time to mourn first.

Sometimes my mind wanders

First, it was a lot of fun to sell my books at the Placentia Shop Small Boutique. I gave some books as prizes, sold some, and as usual, made friends and connections.

Where am I next? Celebrating Read Locally: Local Author Day at the Yorba Linda Library on April 6 from 2-4. I don't have a flyer to show you, but here is the link: https://www.ylpl.org/authorfest/ 

I will be flying back from a conference in Columbus, Ohio that same day, so if someone could bring me a Starbucks and slap me into consciousness, I'd appreciate it.

In the meantime, I've been thinking about memoirs recently, having read a couple of good ones, Honeymoon at Sea by Jennifer Silva Redmond, and When Your Heart Says Go by Judy Reeves. I've written a sort-of memoir in my book From the Horse's Mouth, even though it is fictionalized a bit and told in first-person Snoopy. But I've never thought of writing my very own memoir, mostly because I don't believe anything huge and life-changing ever happened to me.

Did I go through two divorces before I found a man I not just loved, but felt safe with? Yes. Did I move from Illinois to California by myself in a Honda Civic with my dog Tyler? Yes. Did I walk away from a lucrative 30-year career as a software engineer in order to write, work with my horse, and be in the room when my son had a question? Yes.

Do these things make a memoir? No, mostly because these big things weren't as important as what went on before, and what went on before was a series of little things. I was 23 years old when my grandfather Hansel died. I was close to him, and I remember driving down 22nd Street in Decatur, Illinois, feeling thoroughly unhappy with my life and thinking that I had to stay here because my parents would be unhappy if I left. 

And then it hit me that my grandfather had died, and someday my grandmother would, and then my parents, and I would have lived my entire life trying to keep them happy and have a shell of a life when they were gone. That little moment was the catalyst, the idea that I wasn't living the life I wanted. The trip out west seems anticlimactic by comparison.

I mean, I am 70 now so maybe it's time to write a memoir, but it might never be time to publish it, and the public might not take the time to read it. At least I have a couple of title ideas. I was thinking of:

1. Things I Did When I Wasn't Doing Anything Else, or

2. I Think I'm Boring But What Did You Want To Know?

Maybe I'll stick to fiction.

Why doncha come up and see me sometime?

via GIPHY

It's March and I haven't been here since December so of course I'm wallowing in the guilt and shame of my own perfectionist tendencies. I don't have a bunch to talk about because my brain is completely obsessed with the novel I'm trying to finish and it's hard to think of anything else.

In addition, I'm having a hard time sleeping at night, my squirrel brain teasing me at 3:00 a.m. with questions like, "Who was that actress who played in noirs but it wasn't Jane oh-what's-her-name she was in that movie with Robert Mitchum...?" You get the picture. This means I sit down at my computer to write and fall asleep instead.

Anyway, I wanted you to all know I'm not dead yet, I'm working on MURDER TAKES THE REINS, and I'll be at a bunch of artsy craftsy festivals selling my books. I'd love to see your faces!

First up, this Sunday, March 17, at the Placentia Women's Club Round Table. They give prizes out at this event, and there are lots of vendors. I would love to see you--and maybe give you a prize!

I've got more appearances at more festivals, so stay tuned!