My son was born this year, and that has been awesome. Unfortunately, the rest of the year has been a whole lot of suck for my mom's side of the family. My grandfather died in February. My grandmother on the same side died in August. Now, in October, the dam was washed out at my grandparents' place (now cared for by my parents) thus eliminating the beautiful lake on which the house sat and leaving only a small creek and a lot of mud. I'd like to think the losses are over, but my mom also inherited my grandfather's very old German Sheppard, who is very slow and nearly blind.
"Turn, turn, turn," I know. But it is hard to have so much taken away in one year. Although I realized that nothing is forever, I was hoping the critter would have more opportunities to hang out with his great-grandparents by a serene lake while petting a big, friendly dog. (His great-grandfather died two weeks before he was born, but his great-granny did get to meet him once.)
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Dead links
I actually have a few notes on a potential play dealing with how web accounts live on after a person dies, but I've just had my first personal brush with the phenomenon.
I found out that one of my professional contacts on LinkedIn passed away several weeks ago. Naturally, his LinkedIn profile does not indicate this, even in the "What are you working on now?" box. I doubt his family will worry about about removing his profile, even if they know it is out there. As a result, my professional network is likely to include a dead man for quite a while.
I found out that one of my professional contacts on LinkedIn passed away several weeks ago. Naturally, his LinkedIn profile does not indicate this, even in the "What are you working on now?" box. I doubt his family will worry about about removing his profile, even if they know it is out there. As a result, my professional network is likely to include a dead man for quite a while.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Goodbye, Grandpa O
My grandfather died on Friday night. My mom called Saturday morning. His death was sudden insofar that he wasn’t ill. On the other hand, he was 91 (a few months from 92) and had grown noticeably weaker when I saw him at Christmas, so death was not outside the realm of possibilities.
He died in his sleep, which is all any of us can hope for ourselves.
The funeral is today. I won’t be there. I always thought I would be there for his funeral, but I never anticipated him dying when I was 35 weeks pregnant and moving in 4 days. The logistics of travel just seem like too much right now. Still, I worry that not being there will mean I have a hard time grasping that he’s really gone.
At least I was able to spend time with him and my grandmother at Christmas. My husband was able to meet him on several occasions. I had, of course, been hoping that he would be able to meet his new great-grandson, but I knew those visits would be few and my son would be too young to remember them.
My grandfather was an extraordinary man. He served in the Air Force, including flying in combat during WWII. He was a professional photographer in a small town, and there are many people for whom he took senior photos then their wedding photos then their children’s senior photos then their children’s wedding photos. Perhaps the most amazing thing is that he was happily married to my grandmother for over 70 years.
To all the emotions of being pregnant and setting up a new home sadness has been added. I pack a box, have a crying jag, and go on.
I will miss you, Grandpa.
He died in his sleep, which is all any of us can hope for ourselves.
The funeral is today. I won’t be there. I always thought I would be there for his funeral, but I never anticipated him dying when I was 35 weeks pregnant and moving in 4 days. The logistics of travel just seem like too much right now. Still, I worry that not being there will mean I have a hard time grasping that he’s really gone.
At least I was able to spend time with him and my grandmother at Christmas. My husband was able to meet him on several occasions. I had, of course, been hoping that he would be able to meet his new great-grandson, but I knew those visits would be few and my son would be too young to remember them.
My grandfather was an extraordinary man. He served in the Air Force, including flying in combat during WWII. He was a professional photographer in a small town, and there are many people for whom he took senior photos then their wedding photos then their children’s senior photos then their children’s wedding photos. Perhaps the most amazing thing is that he was happily married to my grandmother for over 70 years.
To all the emotions of being pregnant and setting up a new home sadness has been added. I pack a box, have a crying jag, and go on.
I will miss you, Grandpa.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
We're all going to die, but some will die sooner than others.
My parents' dog is going to die. Of course I've known this was an eventuality, but with this visit the actuality is much more real. Po is 13 years old. She is gray and slow and has trouble breathing. I hope she holds out for as long as she can, but my parents' dog is going to die.
We never had a dog growing up. My parents' felt that with their jobs they couldn't properly care for one. My parents eventually got Po after I was grown and out of the house. As a result, I usually only got to see her once or twice a year. If she were to die, I wouldn't feel much personal loss. But I worry about my parents. They are both retired, and although they both do theatre and have other active hobbies, Po is a huge focus of their lives. I don't know how they will handle it when she is gone. Would they get another dog? If so, how soon? I'm not worried about the dog as much as I am about my parents.
My parents are going to die. Not for a long while, I hope, but they will. They are getting to ages where that begins to show. My dad's recent heart and eye surgery, my mom's back problems: these are reminders that they won't always be around. How will I react? I don't know.
My grandparents are still alive (3 of them). We saw my mom's side this week. He is 90. She is 88. Oddly enough I don't think of their mortality as much as that of my parents or even the dog. My grandparents have always been old, at least for as long as I've known them. The changes in them seem less significant than those in my parents or the dog. They still live on their own in the house I remember from when I was a kid. They still have martinis everyday at 5 o'clock. But I can't ignore the fact that they are slowing down. I realize that although they may live to see me give them a great grandchild they won't live long enough for that child to really know them.
But the first to go will likely be my parent's dog. I looked her in the eye on Christmas and told her to hold on for them. But she can only hold on for so long. My parents' dog is going to die. It will very sad.
We never had a dog growing up. My parents' felt that with their jobs they couldn't properly care for one. My parents eventually got Po after I was grown and out of the house. As a result, I usually only got to see her once or twice a year. If she were to die, I wouldn't feel much personal loss. But I worry about my parents. They are both retired, and although they both do theatre and have other active hobbies, Po is a huge focus of their lives. I don't know how they will handle it when she is gone. Would they get another dog? If so, how soon? I'm not worried about the dog as much as I am about my parents.
My parents are going to die. Not for a long while, I hope, but they will. They are getting to ages where that begins to show. My dad's recent heart and eye surgery, my mom's back problems: these are reminders that they won't always be around. How will I react? I don't know.
My grandparents are still alive (3 of them). We saw my mom's side this week. He is 90. She is 88. Oddly enough I don't think of their mortality as much as that of my parents or even the dog. My grandparents have always been old, at least for as long as I've known them. The changes in them seem less significant than those in my parents or the dog. They still live on their own in the house I remember from when I was a kid. They still have martinis everyday at 5 o'clock. But I can't ignore the fact that they are slowing down. I realize that although they may live to see me give them a great grandchild they won't live long enough for that child to really know them.
But the first to go will likely be my parent's dog. I looked her in the eye on Christmas and told her to hold on for them. But she can only hold on for so long. My parents' dog is going to die. It will very sad.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Sympathy Ham
A friend's mom passed away this morning. So I sent him a ham. I almost didn't because I thought that sending a ham when someone's mother has died is ridiculous. But I decided that I should do it because it is ridiculous. I hope he sees it that way.
I am most comfortable expressing my feelings with food. Even words are not my friends when it comes to sincere emotion. I work better in fiction, which may be based on reality but is not as raw or scary to me. So I show people I care about them by feeding them. I always have. If I cook for you, I definitely care. If I were in Pittsburgh right now, I would cook up a batch of something and bring it to my friend's house. Being so far away is frustrating. I feel like I can't do anything. A sympathy card and a bunch of flowers don't feel like enough. So I sent him a large ham.
It's a large ham. My intent is not for him to eat it all himself. I even stated this outright in my note to him. Please don't eat the entire large ham yourself. My intent is for him to use the ham as an excuse to be around people who care for him. He should invite them over to partake of this large ham that Kim Z sent him because she is ridiculous. If he doesn't feel like hosting he should drag his large ham to one of our friends' houses and make them eat it with him. I wish I could be there to share the ham.
Every year this friend throws a New Year's party. Everyone has to bring a bottle of champagne (or whatever sparkling swill is on sale). At midnight we toast people who have died during the year. You can get lists from the Internet. People also interject losses from their own life. I don't know if he will still have a party this year, or if someone will have a similar party in its place. If they do, I'm sure there will be a lot of champagne and a lot of tears and not for Ike Turner or Evel Knievel or Anna Nicole Smith. They don't even get hams.
I am most comfortable expressing my feelings with food. Even words are not my friends when it comes to sincere emotion. I work better in fiction, which may be based on reality but is not as raw or scary to me. So I show people I care about them by feeding them. I always have. If I cook for you, I definitely care. If I were in Pittsburgh right now, I would cook up a batch of something and bring it to my friend's house. Being so far away is frustrating. I feel like I can't do anything. A sympathy card and a bunch of flowers don't feel like enough. So I sent him a large ham.
It's a large ham. My intent is not for him to eat it all himself. I even stated this outright in my note to him. Please don't eat the entire large ham yourself. My intent is for him to use the ham as an excuse to be around people who care for him. He should invite them over to partake of this large ham that Kim Z sent him because she is ridiculous. If he doesn't feel like hosting he should drag his large ham to one of our friends' houses and make them eat it with him. I wish I could be there to share the ham.
Every year this friend throws a New Year's party. Everyone has to bring a bottle of champagne (or whatever sparkling swill is on sale). At midnight we toast people who have died during the year. You can get lists from the Internet. People also interject losses from their own life. I don't know if he will still have a party this year, or if someone will have a similar party in its place. If they do, I'm sure there will be a lot of champagne and a lot of tears and not for Ike Turner or Evel Knievel or Anna Nicole Smith. They don't even get hams.
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