Mourning in the time of coronavirus · 3:27pm Jun 19th, 2020
My mother’s eldest sister died this morning.
All I can try to do is summarize. She’d had dementia for a long time, and had effectively dropped out of contact with the rest of the family for several years. We only reestablished some degree of communication over the last year and a half, after she began living in a memory care center. This was limited to a phone call every few months, and it was hard to get her on the line: the receiving number wasn’t in her room. As with my mother, she seemed to be fairly clear on the phone — but I never saw her. Just brief voice contact, and then I passed the phone over.
She raised my mother, or so I’m told. Mine is one of many, with the births spread over many years. In that situation, the older children can wind up taking care of the younger. My mother said she didn’t really meet my grandmother until she was eleven, because that was when my aunt got married and moved out. And upon meeting my grandmother, she promptly decided she didn’t like her.
My aunt owned a children’s clothing store. There was a time when that was one state away, and I got hauled along when they visited each other. If you need a good working definition of torture, try ‘being young and trapped in a clothing store for seven hours’.
I loved her. My uncle... not so much. He had Standards about his kitchen, to the point where I once got blasted when he found me taking food which I had permission to take. There was a piano in their apartment, and I very carefully failed to play it. Those visits could also stretch out forever, but — their middle daughter read fantasy novels. There was something to do.
She was caring, a little silly, kept collectible glasses around for her own children, and utterly vanished because her memory began to go and they hid her away.
And she died this morning.
I was taking my mother out to get plants. Lately, one of the things which has focused her attention is gardening. The apartment building has a collective porch on one level. She’s been sprucing it up. So... run her out to a nursery, when the risk was lowest, and...
The call came in as we were going over the bridge.
She’s... not really reacting. I came closer to tears than she did, and I don’t think that’s the dementia or any lack of caring. She’s just been waiting for this. It’s been two weeks in coming, so she’s had time to prepare...
What happened? Many years ago, my aunt had heart valve surgery. The replacement failed long after its expected operating time, and someone decided it wasn’t worth the risk of another surgery. Maybe that was the same children who hid her away. The ones who never called us back when we’ve been trying to contact them for two weeks. They still haven’t. Someone else told us. About everything.
So my aunt went into a coma. Was put on a feeding tube. And this morning, she died.
Over the last two weeks...
I was trying to figure out if I could get my mother to her. There were complications: a lot of them. High on the list was my mother’s epidural. The previous one had worn off months ago, I’d tried to talk her into getting the next, and by the time she acknowledged anything was wrong? No more elective procedures. I signed her on for the first available date when my state’s reopening got that far, and I couldn’t miss it because I was worried about her losing the ability to walk again. So I at least had to get her that far before we could go anywhere. And that was yesterday...
...but the point was moot. Because as we eventually learned, no one was being permitted to see my aunt. No one at all.
Maybe that’s the kids again.
So we were waiting. And today, when the call came in, I kept control of the car, managed not to cry because highway driving through tears is a bad idea, and asked my mother if she wanted to go home. Call off the morning entirely. She said no, because she’d been... getting ready for this.
I’m writing this from the patio of an outdoor breakfast nook. It’s a very late breakfast, but... the ultra-cheap plant nursery is near my favorite ice cream parlor. We’re waiting for them to open, because we both need comfort food. I’m treating, as best I can. She’s working on a pancake.
My aunt is dead. They never saw each before it happened. They haven’t seen each other for years.
My aunt had a little lake house. No TV reception. No books. Utterly isolated, but for the bingo parlor on the far shore. Prison with a very large swimming pool, when you’re a kid. But she loved it.
I was desperate enough to get a bingo card once. Once.
So I had been thinking about ways to get them together before my aunt died. But no one was allowed to see her, we’re now looking at the funeral, and...
...I said this was complicated.
She died in Florida.
Right. Coronavirus Central. That’s why I wasn’t sure whether I could bring them together, even before I knew no such living visit was possible. I could drive her there (because I can’t easily rent a car post-flight), and explain to everyone here where the time had gone. But with her immune system, and the case count flaring every day... I would be risking her life. But at the same time, this is her sister, her truest parent, and... now there’s a funeral. They can’t keep her out of a funeral, right?
But this isn’t about any upcoming trip, or why I won’t meet a chapter quota for the month. It’s not a request for money to make the trip, either. (My con budget was recently freed up.). Could I do it? Gas, tolls, food and hotel fees, losing the writing time? Yes, if I had to. I was thinking about it before this. It was important.
But it’s Florida. It’s taking her into the heart of the hot zone. And she’s frustrated, because most of the family is buried somewhat more locally: within a hundred miles. But my aunt’s children are in Florida — two of them, anyway — and so that’s where the funeral will take place. Probably in a day or two. Which puts me on emergency notice for moving mine, and...
...we’ve been talking.
Emotionally, she should go.
Realistically, she can’t.
And she’s angry. Not because she can’t go. But because it feels like no one can. Florida, for some returning from the funeral, may mean two weeks of mandatory quarantine. It has every attendee rolling a personal set of dice. The children who locked her away for the last years of her life didn’t intend the same thing for her death, but that’s how it feels. There won’t be any goodbyes. It would be months before I could even try to get my mother to the grave, and that makes the assumption that someone would bother to tell us where it was. From what little I gleaned while in the driver’s seat, the anger is spreading fast. So many people want to go, because they loved her. Even after being subjected to endless racks of dresses. But there’s a wall around the state, to match the one which existed around her in the last years of her life.
My aunt died this morning. I got the news two and a half hours ago. The funeral may be tomorrow.
I was planning to write today. This may wind up being it.
I hated the lake house. The clothing store. Her apartment. To me, she lived surrounded by boredom. But I still wanted to see her when I was a kid, at least for an hour, I hated everything around her...
...but I loved her.
I have a dementia patient living with me. I’m tired of listening to the slow death.
And when I called her so the two of them could talk... I said hello, and passed the phone over.
(Editing in the update posted as a group reply below.)
Just got home. The phone rang about three minutes after I walked in. Turns out I was on the road during most of the explosion.
I'll summarize again: the extended family is pissed. My uncle is buried somewhat more locally, and there seems to have been some sentiment that he and his spouse should be occupying adjacent acreage. So after what I'm imagining as a lot of screaming, it's been decided that the body will be moved. The funeral will be on Monday, which provides some time to figure out how to transport it and deal with whatever the regulations are for moving a body during the pandemic. But she'll be interred much closer to home.
...must have been one @$#% of an explosion...
Which makes things a lot easier to reach -- but I'm still not sure we're going.
Here's the new problem: the epidural. The injection was yesterday, and it can take from seven to ten days before she starts to feel beneficial effects: this means she's still having significant leg issues. She's roughly familiar with that cemetery, and I have been told there's a lot of walking involved. I offered to push the travel wheelchair, and was then told there was also a lot of grass. Plus her asthma has been up, and Monday's forecast is mid-80s and humid. So it's possible that her overall health may now prevent attendance. She's said she'll judge how she's feeling when the day arrives. Which means I currently have no idea how Monday is going to go, especially as she often feels at her best in the morning and worsens as the day progresses.
We also have the issue of coronavirus regulations. The funeral will be in another state -- roundtrip, I would be driving about 280 miles -- and that means dealing with their restrictions. After checking the county involved online, I found that the maximum permitted gathering size is currently twenty-five people. So if there's a decent turnout, we may not even be able to get in. And of course, social distancing. Practice it among the dead or join them ahead of schedule.
To those who asked about streaming: I haven't been told what the funeral home is, and it's possible the whole thing will take place at the cemetery. I'm trying to get more details. However, I did ask my mother about it, and she quickly said she didn't want to be looking at a screen.
I don't know if her children are going to be present. The safe guess is that the two in Florida would follow the body and the one in Boston might come down -- but it's not guaranteed. However, if they're in attendance, there might be some questions. 'Why didn't you ever return my calls?' might also lead to some fights.
It's been a long, aching day.
I kept her out of the apartment for longer than I've had her out on non-medical reasons in months. We had that late breakfast, waited for the ice cream parlor to open -- I couldn't even finish my milkshake -- and then on the way home, I took the slow road and so passed a deluxe Italian supermarket. A peek inside found prices which would make Whole Foods ask 'Are you sure about the local food budgets?' And yet I got her a pound of vongole clams, because her sister just died and comfort food might help. Which made it a long, aching, expensive day... but just try finding vongole on demand.
Two medical appointments before the 30th. (There's a pair on July 1st, including a consult with a plastic surgeon. Her eye doctor feels she needs to have her lids lifted: the mynasthenia has produced enough long-term loss of strength so that the drooping is interfering with her vision.) Possible funeral. It'll take a small miracle for me to get five updates/stories/et. all before July hits. But I'm going to lose today, because... my aunt just died, and 'now go be funny' will not be an option until tomorrow. Minimum. But I've managed with deadlines before, so -- we'll see how it goes. Today, I just don't think I can produce anything worth reading.
No one in the family has been told what I do here. That I'm here at all. (I think the general perception is that I work from home, and they know I won't say more. Guessing at their guesses might be good for a laugh.) I'm not sure what my aunt would have said if I'd told her. She stayed in a business which let her see children for most of her life: I think she would have at least understood the appeal of the characters -- for kids. But when it comes to writing about them... I honestly don't know how she would have reacted to that. Not at her best, and not as she was just before the end.
It's not as if I'll ever get to ask her.
I don't know if I should go to the funeral. (I would still take her if she was up to it: I just might wind up standing at the edge.) I feel like it would be very easy to start a fight. I've kept my mother isolated because the virus says I have to, but -- it's possible to visit her. I took her to see somewhat more local family members before this started, and we got a visit once. It feels like my aunt's children just locked her away, and...
Maybe it was worse than I knew. Maybe it was so bad that no one should have seen her.
Maybe they were heartless.
Maybe I just want to start a fight.
I can try to post a chapter tomorrow. Cerea, hopefully. (I wanted to do another review set on Sunday: I think that's going to be postponed a little.) But Monday will probably come, and when it does...
One way or another, Monday will be a very long day.
*sigh*
The milkshake really didn't help.
I'm sorry for your loss. That's a tough row to hoe.
It'll be ok in the end. If it's not ok, it's not the end.
My sincerest condolences to you, your mother, and everyone else kept from her by outbreaks and offspring.
I'm very sorry for your loss.
I know it's a poor substitute, but is the funeral home doing anything online? I say the funeral home because it sounds like dealing with her surviving children is a real PITA. You might be able to go over their heads to the funeral home director, explain the situation to him/her, and make an appeal.
My condolences. May she rest in peace. Hang in there.
Ah, shit, I'm sorry.
It really isn't letting up at all, is it? My condolences.
(Probably shouldn't have said "hope you having a better time than me," should I? 2020 does seem to like trying to make a mockery of everything I say at the moment...)
I'm only in a marginally better position than you with Nanny (though my uncle and his family are all the way over in Austrailia).
I got to see Nanny after lockdown began and before she went into care, because I still did a few bits for her and was on stand-by (like the night before she went in and had SOMEHOW fallen out of bed, despite being at a point she basiclally couldn't stand unaided). My sisters, however, did not, so for all they live in the same city. It sucks. It really does.
We at least, can have a funeral, even if only for the immediate family. It REALLY sucks that you can't; this is the absolute worst point for this crap to be happening, which is, of course, why it's happening now.
As I say before, and I hope I'm not presuming too mcuh to speak for most if not all of us here, we're here for you as much as we can be.
Oh no...I'm so sorry. I live in Florida myself, so I understand; Coronavirus is all over like a bad rash here, and my and my brother's parents try to keep us away from people as much as possible, but the risk is still there.
I wish I could do more for you than just giving you my condolences, but it's all I have right now. Stay safe and I wish you and your family well.
My condolences Estee. I wish you strength.
My condolences to you and your mother, Estee. I know it's difficult to lose someone you care about. Remember that we are here for you.
I'm so sorry for your loss. My deepest condolences to you and those close to you and your mother.
Oh Estee, I'm so sorry. This is the absolute worst time for something like this to happen (well, it's never a good time, but I think you know what I mean), and of course it had to happen to you. But you're strong; you can push yourself through this and be alright in the end. I think 5288388 said it beautifully— it'll be okay in the end, and if it isn't okay, it isn't the end.
It might sound hollow in the moment, especially since I basically have nothing else to say, but I am so, so sorry for your loss. It sucks, and nobody should have to go through this.
I'm sorry for your lost.
I'm sorry for your loss and may she rest in peace.
Even if nothing feels OK, you aren't wrong in thinking nor feeling that. I know that feeling as well. For what it's worth, I'll keep you, your Mom, and her in my thoughts. She sounded like a lovely lady.
My condolences, Estee. Going back to what 5288392 said, perhaps you can contact the funeral home so that you can at least see the funeral as it happens? Your mother should at least be able to grieve properly.
... I'm so sorry. There's nothing else I can say.
My uncle died last year on Easter Morning. He was riding his quad back from a party and flipped into a ditch. He broke his neck, died instantly, from what they said. I know your pain. As a believer in God, (Cheese alert!) I'm definitely praying for her, and that may not seem like much to you, but it's the least I can do.
So sorry for your loss
.
Not that would be the same, but ‘remote funerals’ are becoming a thing now, be it over Zoom or a reputable video calling platform. Funeral homes can even officiate them like they would an in-person event. It’s not the same, but maybe it’d be something?
I found this out last year when I had prostate surgery.
Surgery is a Catch-22.
They won't perform the surgery if they don't think
there's a good chance that you'll survive the operation.
In other words, you can be sick enough to qualify for surgery
but too sick to qualify for surgery. Catch-22.
Also, insurance.
There has to be a certain probable benefit
before they'll pay.
My sympathies for your loss... your reflections on visiting her illustrated a great deal of warmth and love.
And I’m doubly sorry to hear of the added heartbreak and hardship brought on by the epidemic. With close family of my own in both memory care and recently in the hospital, I’m familiar with the limitations that keep families apart when they most want to come together.
Thoughts with you in tough times and words of support are all I can offer. So sorry for your loss.
My condolences.
(For ongoing lack of a Reply All button.)
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Just got home. The phone rang about three minutes after I walked in. Turns out I was on the road during most of the explosion.
I'll summarize again: the extended family is pissed. My uncle is buried somewhat more locally, and there seems to have been some sentiment that he and his spouse should be occupying adjacent acreage. So after what I'm imagining as a lot of screaming, it's been decided that the body will be moved. The funeral will be on Monday, which provides some time to figure out how to transport it and deal with whatever the regulations are for moving a body during the pandemic. But she'll be interred much closer to home.
...must have been one @$#% of an explosion...
Which makes things a lot easier to reach -- but I'm still not sure we're going.
Here's the new problem: the epidural. The injection was yesterday, and it can take from seven to ten days before she starts to feel beneficial effects: this means she's still having significant leg issues. She's roughly familiar with that cemetery, and I have been told there's a lot of walking involved. I offered to push the travel wheelchair, and was then told there was also a lot of grass. Plus her asthma has been up, and Monday's forecast is mid-80s and humid. So it's possible that her overall health may now prevent attendance. She's said she'll judge how she's feeling when the day arrives. Which means I currently have no idea how Monday is going to go, especially as she often feels at her best in the morning and worsens as the day progresses.
We also have the issue of coronavirus regulations. The funeral will be in another state -- roundtrip, I would be driving about 280 miles -- and that means dealing with their restrictions. After checking the county involved online, I found that the maximum permitted gathering size is currently twenty-five people. So if there's a decent turnout, we may not even be able to get in. And of course, social distancing. Practice it among the dead or join them ahead of schedule.
To those who asked about streaming: I haven't been told what the funeral home is, and it's possible the whole thing will take place at the cemetery. I'm trying to get more details. However, I did ask my mother about it, and she quickly said she didn't want to be looking at a screen.
I don't know if her children are going to be present. The safe guess is that the two in Florida would follow the body and the one in Boston might come down -- but it's not guaranteed. However, if they're in attendance, there might be some questions. 'Why didn't you ever return my calls?' might also lead to some fights.
It's been a long, aching day.
I kept her out of the apartment for longer than I've had her out on non-medical reasons in months. We had that late breakfast, waited for the ice cream parlor to open -- I couldn't even finish my milkshake -- and then on the way home, I took the slow road and so passed a deluxe Italian supermarket. A peek inside found prices which would make Whole Foods ask 'Are you sure about the local food budgets?' And yet I got her a pound of vongole clams, because her sister just died and comfort food might help. Which made it a long, aching, expensive day... but just try finding vongole on demand.
Two medical appointments before the 30th. (There's a pair on July 1st, including a consult with a plastic surgeon. Her eye doctor feels she needs to have her lids lifted: the mynasthenia has produced enough long-term loss of strength so that the drooping is interfering with her vision.) Possible funeral. It'll take a small miracle for me to get five updates/stories/et. all before July hits. But I'm going to lose today, because... my aunt just died, and 'now go be funny' will not be an option until tomorrow. Minimum. But I've managed with deadlines before, so -- we'll see how it goes. Today, I just don't think I can produce anything worth reading.
No one in the family has been told what I do here. That I'm here at all. (I think the general perception is that I work from home, and they know I won't say more. Guessing at their guesses might be good for a laugh.) I'm not sure what my aunt would have said if I'd told her. She stayed in a business which let her see children for most of her life: I think she would have at least understood the appeal of the characters -- for kids. But when it comes to writing about them... I honestly don't know how she would have reacted to that. Not at her best, and not as she was just before the end.
It's not as if I'll ever get to ask her.
I don't know if I should go to the funeral. (I would still take her if she was up to it: I just might wind up standing at the edge.) I feel like it would be very easy to start a fight. I've kept my mother isolated because the virus says I have to, but -- it's possible to visit her. I took her to see somewhat more local family members before this started, and we got a visit once. It feels like my aunt's children just locked her away, and...
Maybe it was worse than I knew. Maybe it was so bad that no one should have seen her.
Maybe they were heartless.
Maybe I just want to start a fight.
I can try to post a chapter tomorrow. Cerea, hopefully. (I wanted to do another review set on Sunday: I think that's going to be postpone a little.) But Monday will probably come, and when it does...
One way or another, Monday will be a very long day.
*sigh*
The milkshake really didn't help.
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I'm going to try to avoid making meaningless but nice-sounding noises here. I, for one, wouldn't expect funny. I'd be alright with screaming.
5288388
Huh. For platitudes that last one is surprisingly poignant.
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To quote my father
"Either it's raining yellow or God is pissing on your head again."
(Charming man, my father)
5288539
Sounds like we both have the ISO Standard Blue-Collar Dad. Mine didn't live in the same city as me for very long, but when I did see and talk to him it was stuff like that. I particularly liked his take on racists: "If you take the time to get to know someone, you can find a much better reason to hate them than the color of their skin"
Hey. Do what you need to do. If that means writing, then sure, write what you're in the right frame of mind for. If that means not writing, then don't push it just so you don't disappoint someone who needs their new chapter now.
My grandmother worked at JC Pennies and later a small family-owned business that sold— I was six and I can't remember, but I think there were flowers? Really boring things for a six-year-old boy. I had to spend the whole day there a lot.
Huh, my Grandmother was into gardening a lot too. She had Alzheimer's though, not dementia.
Take everything annoying about America, put it in one state, and add more mosquitoes than air. That's Florida.
Lord knows you need something to change. I'll pray for your Monday, families are ridiculously complicated. Maybe they'll help with something?
I'm so sorry. If there's anything at all we can do to help, you've only got to ask.
God bless, and my condolences... If you ever want to talk, or just vent, I will make myself available. All I can really offer is a shoulder to cry on, and for all the joy your stories have brought me, it feels like too little to give you in return...
I am so sorry, Estee.
It may not be much, but here is something my Dad sent me the day my Papa died.
Mel can make almost anything at least a tiny bit more ok.
Damn. I'm sorry. The words aren't powerful enough to really convey the emotion. I hate that for you and your mom. It doubly sucks for you, since it's not like you're getting a break from needing to do everything you've already been doing, and adding this on top of all of that is just not fair. The virus doesn't make anything easy or simple anymore, either. Everything is just conspiring lately to make life so hard.
Estee, you are an incredible writer. I read a phrase once, I think from a tweet, "If god hadn't given me depression I would be unstoppable" that I feel could apply to you in a weird way. The fact that your output continues to be the gold fucking standard of excellence for me as far as reading experiences go, when you're dealing with the absolute weight of the world crushing you every day and even more so now, shows me that you're the kind of person that never compromises the quality of your work, no matter the circumstances. That's a great thing. I deeply appreciate what you've created here, I've gotten hours and hours of endless entertainment reading your work and contemplating it.
As much as I'm always chomping at the bit to get another chapter of Anchor Foal and to a lesser extent Cerea and whatever, more Triptych Continuum in general for sure, I'd wait a year if it meant having the best chapter you could write instead of something you wrote to desperately fulfill a deadline. It would be a travesty to see you compromise your vision when it has been so exceptionally rich and deeply resonating for me. But not to say I don't laugh at the crackfics either, I'm not knocking them, they fill a slot too, but the ongoing stories are what keep me so invested personally.
I wish I could give back anything like what I've gotten from you, but since it's not possible I have to settle with echoing the others saying that we are here for you, and we care.
My condolences, to you and your mother. If you are unable to attend (and it might be very wise not to attend), I hope your mother is able to call and talk to some of the family.
My sincere best wishes to you both.
My condolences and sympathies, both to you and your mother, Estee.
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Thinking about this, if you're in a dark mood, don't waste it, write something DARK.
There's still the stories of Luna's banishment, Starswhirl's turning to the Dark Side, his imprisonment + death, & Cadence's letter leads me to assume that she was the sole survivor of her ascension group.
Surely, one of them is horrible enough to match your mood. Mark it "M" & call Cadence's story Not For The Faint Of Heart or some such.
My condolences to you and yours.
My condolences.
Take care of yourself. And if you can't write for a spell, don't write for a spell. I know for myself, I'd rather have something you wrote because you were in a place you wanted to write, rather than something you wrote from a place you didn't because you felt you had to.
I'm really sorry for your loss. I pray that this terrible virus will stop inflicting so many people soon...
I'm very sorry for your loss, Estee. Please take all the time necessary to do whatever you need to heal.
I'm so sorry to hear that. I'll be thinking of you in the coming days. It will be OK, we promise.
My deepest condolences to you and your mother both.
May god rest her soul in peace. I understand how it feels to lose someone to a mental illness.
As a way to help with the heartache I know you're feeling, I have some advice. As your mourn, rather than focusing on how she passed, focus on how she lived her life. That helped me get through losing my grandfather to Alzheimer's.
I am so very sorry to hear all of that. *offers hugs*
My condolences to you and your family.
I'm sorry, Estee. Good luck.
And if she can't make it to the funeral, maybe a small temporary shrine in your home would help? Not sure, but I thought of it and thought I'd at least mention it.
Estee, My condolences. This year just keeps getting worse. Please be kind to yourself whenever and wherever you can find a gap to do so.
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For what it's worth, I advocate caution with creating shrines. My grandmother passed 9 months ago, and well... a temporary shrine may become permanent if the wound doesn't heal because you keep picking at it.
Try to focus on healing, without dwelling on the pain you feel. Also: Do as I say, not as I do.
Oh my God, I'm so sorry for your loss, Estee
"hugs you"
It's not your fault. You didn't know how bad it was getting for her. I know this is gonna sound cliché, but everything's going to be okay. Just hang on and let us hug you. Talk to us. We'll help you get through this $#!%storm of a year.
so sorry to hear that, hopefully things get better for you soon