She's been fretting about it - I've been cheering for her. Gramma had a bad fall recently and Mom's been grappling with guilt over leaving vs. bailing out of a trip she's been planning for ages.
She'd finally gotten through to Dad's sister and brother - gotten some good discussion of the situation and felt good enough to get on her plane.
Scotland. I'm green with envy. Got the boy all pumped up saying SCOOT-lund! in the best brogue the boy can manage. I'd planned on taking the boy through her itinerary on a map.
Jen's keeping me in the loop on Gramma, Mom's texting her status to me:
Apr 29, 05:24 pmLondon. I'm tempted to ask her to buy me an Arsenal scarf. She's told us she can get text messages - but then she was told this by AT&T - so there's almost no chance that she can.
Headed 4 london. Mom
One unsettling aspect of her departure: In the event the worst happens and Gramma passes - Mom had asked me to book her a flight up from Atlanta on the same day she comes back to the US. I've booked flights for mom exactly twice before - both times because she was in the storm zone and had no way to do it herself.
Surfing possible flights plays on my imagination to the point that, having established that there are ample opportunities out of Atlanta - I quit and go for a walk around the office to shake it off.
It doesn't work.
Post storm, the airports were insane. On top of everything mom had been through - the airlines had decided to be - well, airlines. She was told her carry-on weighed too much, or was the wrong size, or needed inspection or something - so would she mind opening it and re-distributing her items among her other bags?
Mom has a pretty good look that says My manners are the only thing keeping you alive right now. I imagine she gave the guy this look and opened her bags.
On top of the clothes in her carry-on was Dad's folded flag.
Airline guy sees it and stops. He closes her bag and says "That's okay, m'am we'll take care of you. Don't worry about it." And he gets her through the line and never says another word.
Even now, all this time later - I'm still a mess just from writing that.
But I had help this time.
Jen called at 11:27 pm - and my family doesn't call, much less call in the wee hours.
Unless it's bad.
Gramma passed away at 11:00 pm. She'd been having trouble breathing. Too much fluid in her system, lots of things. Age.
I'm like I was with Grampa - I'm just hollow thinking about it. There's no there.
But Mom. Right now, she's on a plane, asleep headed for her big adventure - and she doesn't know. This I can picture, and its just too awful.
Mom's flown up for Gramma's episodes over and over. Talked with her all the time.
After this latest fall, Mom couldn't get through to her - nurses or Dad's siblings kept interposing themselves.
Mom's big adventure in Scotland - and on day one she'll learn that Gramma died five hours after she boarded her plane.
I miss Gramma - but I'm grieving for Mom.
3 comments:
I'm sorry to hear about your Gramma. She was a sweet lady, I remember. My condolences. Let me know if there is anything I can do.
re: grieving for mom. yes. been in such a place before; am there with you now.
if only our grieving for others could deplete *their* grief accounts. or their pain accounts. it can't. it really isn't very fair.
your gramma was impressive. i/we still have her fruit soup recipe. i have made it. it would have tasted good yesterday, as cold as it was outside.
sincerely,
e's oldest sister
Thanks, all - I appreciate it.
Mom's got the word, but we'll have the funeral without her.
Gramma was practical and she'd understand.
Just like when Grampa died, though - outside of fretting over Mom - I can't feel a thing right now. I imagine it will get all too real once we get there, but right now the brain has chosen denial.
'spose I'll roll with it. I'll get more done.
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