23 Days

Twenty-three days after her mother died, my mother passed away. I have lost a grandmother and a mother in the space of three weeks. I think one can safely assume that my mother gave up on life after her mother passed. She went into an immediate and steep decline, refusing food and collapsing in on herself.

It can't be a coincidence. Mother came to the funeral. She was alert, made off-colour remarks, as she has always done. True, she was confined to a wheelchair, but she looked nowhere near death, so her passing was a tremendous surprise to us all. Now, the usual suspects are gathering on Friday for another funeral, my third in one and a half years.

As co-executor of the will, I helped my sister with the funeral arrangements, flowers, announcements, etc. We also visited the bank to get the estate paperwork underway. We have an appointment with the lawyer later this week. Late yesterday, we met with the minister, the same person who did the ceremony for my father's funeral last May.

Let me say for the record that if I die after a long life, I want a party, not a solemn affair filled with references to imaginary beings, such as my mom would prefer. She was a church-goer. I suppose some of us like being told that they are sinners. I know it, but I also know that this is who were are, that this is how we evolved. Also, I have a very liberal definition of a sin, and I would prefer to use a term other than sin. Killing is not a sin - it's a crime, unless you are at war, or maybe it's still a crime, but not a sin in that case. I would like to go on record as saying that I have coveted a neighbour's wife, probably more than once. His ass, on the other hand, not so much. But, cars and houses have all been coveted by me over the years. But, enough of gods. But, wait, perhaps it would be fun to have someone presiding over my funeral  who could make references to Jupiter and Zeus. Maybe he could suggest that I angered Zeus, and he cut me down, after first summoning a thunderstorm or two to show his displeasure.

The minister asked us to come up with things that she (or one of us) can share with those assembled, With my dad, this was an easy task. When I think of my dad, I think of laughter. When I think of my mom, I think of depression, stubbornness, and a general disinterest in life. So, on some levels, it's amazing that she lived as long as she did. It's a real struggle to talk about someone whose only pleasures were Nescafe, Macdonald Menthol cigarettes, and romance novels.

I will be struggling with unearthing good memories of my mother for the rest of the week.