random thoughts that may or may not be related to funerals and loss

I saw Jill yesterday briefly, and she served me lunch while I helped feed Dylan. She hadn't known I was in NJ. I didn't tell her until yesterday. But on Monday, she dreamed that I was staying at her home for Aunt Grace's funeral.

Her ghost is back. I don't know if I've ever blogged about it. Sometimes when I was babysitting, I would hear a plastic cup being dropped over and over again on the kitchen floor. I could see the entire kitchen from where I was, and there was no cup. Dylan's toys would turn themselves on and off at random. He would follow something around the room with his eyes and point. This happened all the time.

Yesterday, while I was feeding Dylan, I thought a dog came to me and nudged my leg with its nose. Then I remembered they don't have a dog. Evidently spoons are starting to flip out of the sink and onto the floor and one of Dakota's toys was turned off while Jill was holding it and watching the switch move.

I'm using my cousin's computer since the unsecured wireless network nearby has a signal too weak for me to steal. I don't use AOL and I don't know how to "turn off" the instant message function. So folks all over the place are freaked out that Joe is using his computer. I have an away message set that says who I am and why I'm using his ID. Last night I received an instant message from one of Joe's oldest friends Chick, who wrote: "I know this isn't Joe. But you said if this ever happened you'd come back to haunt me. And now I see you have."

Aunt Grace is pretty puny. I think, and I hope, that we've said our goodbyes. I don't know if I'll come back here any time soon, though. Someone else in my family can represent me.

My cousin didn't eat vegetables. I think I'll need a bucket of Metamucil and a plunger when I get home.

My sister and her husband stayed in Joe's room the past few nights and left yesterday. This morning the alarm in that room went off at 5:30 a.m. Okay, that's like 2:30 a.m. for me on west coast time. I didn't have too much of a problem waking up enough to deal with that, but when my own alarm went off at 8:00 a.m., it took me perhaps 10 full minutes to force myself awake, even though I was standing and starting laundry.

Driving in a funeral cortege, regardless of how small, on the New Jersey Turnpike during late rush hour is a pretty stupid idea, if you ask me.

When crossing Route 9 in Lakewood yesterday, there were two cars heading my way that were stopped to make a left hand turn. Just as I entered the intersection, a minivan roared into the oncoming lane from behind the two cars and made a left hand turn in front of me. Gotta love NJ drivers. Not.

I've learned a lot about kindness and commitment from the Snyder family this past week. And maybe about patience. I was incredibly impatient at Jan for leaving my cousin on a ventilator when she knew he absolutely didn't want that. My thinking was not generous about it. I wasted a ton of energy in that thinking, when all I really needed to do was try to understand how hard it all was for her. In the greater scheme of things, a few days on a ventilator doesn't mean squat compared to the guilt and doubt that she would have felt had she made terrible decisions sooner. The upshot for Joe is peace, one hopes. And the way it all panned out, there's lots of peace for Jan and her family, too.

This is what I mean about my stinginess of spirit. I was ready to extend compassion to my cousin but not to the person who meant the most in the world to him. It was not possible for me to see the other side of the coin. So while I think I can do the compassion thing, I realize now that I'm only able to do that on my terms. And that particular way of thinking needs work.

It's cold here, and dry. I'm ready for some damp and clouds and weather perhaps just a tad warmer than this. I'm ready for blooms and bees and digging. I haven't "walked the dog" in a week, and my knee, though still quite sore, is also much better. Yet I have confidence that shortly after arriving home I'll be imprudent again.

Dylan is pretty well potty trained. He's wearing pull-up thingies. I had to watch the kids alone for about thirty seconds yesterday, during which time Dylan crapped his pants. The aroma wafted up to my nostrils while I was holding Dakota, and I said, "Dylan - did your sister poop her pants?" He said, "No, I did," and laughed. How, precisely, do you change a kid with pull-ups when they're overflowing with crap? That is, without getting his legs and outerwear all crapped up? Nevermind - I'm not sure I'll ever need to know that.

I was sad that he didn't say, "Poor Elmo" or "Poor Spiderman" or actually "Poor Incredible Hulk" which was the case. Because even though the goal is for him to say "I need to potty," it's still pretty damned cute when he laments crapping on the Incredible Hulk.

For those of you with unsecured wireless networks, I have only one thing to say. Boost the signal, dammit!

That is all for now. Maybe one of Charlie's neighbors boosted the signal and you'll have to read me again later. Time to fold up and stow the sheets I was using on this sofa bed, take out the trash, and slip the garage door opener under the closing door. Joe's AOL account, when he shuts it down, says in a sexy voice: "Goodbye, Joey."






Goodbye, Joey.