Heading home

I am so fucking tired. Like deeply,emotionally tired. The kind of tired sleep only gives you a break from but doesn't ameliorate. Tired suffused with sadness and being strong. Tired derived from saying goodbye to Nanny and her home, a home that felt like my own. Mom, Jack and I went over there this morning. It was quiet and empty, and Nanny's smile couldn't greet me. I looked through all her pots and pans, bakers and utensils. While holding each, I remembered with such clarity what Nanny made in each: the oval roaster in which she cooked briskets and roasts; the rounded corner pan in which she made her lemon-lime refrigerator sheet cake; angel food and muffin tins; mixing bowls; ancient tin forks and spoons. Here's the Saltines box I mentioned recently. I'm secretly hoping no one else wants it, because I'd love to have it for my own.

When we got home to finish packing up, I realized I couldn't find my wedding rings. Ten minutes into what seemed like a fruitless search, I realized I was sobbing; the thought of losing something else so special tipped me over the wall of strength I've stood on this past week, and I just couldn't deal with anything else. I combed through last night's shrimp shells (not lovely), all the garbage cans and on and on. Mom finally found them on a windowsill. Now I'm even more tired. And I can't fathom these plane rides home. Send me some good vibes, friends.

Day's done

Did you ever sing that song at camp? Taps?"Day's done. Gone the sun. Through the lakes, through the hills, through the skies. All is well, safely rest. Good night (or god is nigh)."

I always enjoyed singing that at sunset during weeks at summer camp. And it comes to me tonight, after a long and heavy day of reminiscence and goodbye. I gave Jack the option of coming, or not, to everything today: the pre-funeral visitation; funeral; burial; etc. Southern Catholics don't mess around with their funerals; these events are serious time commitments, and I wanted to let Jack feel a sense of control. He opted into everything and was great.

Afterwards, I said he could veg out all afternoon. He played ludicrous amounts of video games and did some reading. I made a lemon meringue pie a la Nanny and my shrimp cassoulet for dinner. Mom, Dad, jack, my aunt Renee and I told stories, ate well and now eagerly, almost desperately, are calling it a day. Mom said I should stop cooking, but that's what I could do, you know?

Rosaries, and such

People, it is probably exceedingly obvious that I'm not terribly religious. I am also not a Catholic. As such, I found tonight's rosary extremely long, but even the Catholics among us found it long, so I think my lack of religion is not the primary reason for my feeling. Jack may have summed it up best when he asked, "why is she saying 'Mary' so often?" It was a fair point, but I replied, "well, sweetie, Nanny asked that one be said." Later, when I tucked him in, he said, "Mom, please don't ask for a rosary when you die." Even if you are Catholic, you must admit that that is funny. It's priceless in fact! I said, "you got it, partner!"

After four hours, I took Jack home. He was insanely patient and wonderful, and someone towards the end of things gave him $5 (she asked "who is this?" pointing at the fiver; he said "Abraham Lincoln," and she said, "it's yours) which thrilled him to no end PLUS he got to eat a usually-illicit bag of Cheetohs, but by four hours, it was time, so I took him home and tucked him in. He is such a dear honey.

Nanny did look good, and so many lovely and loving people came tonight. After returning home, I opened a good bottle of wine and made a giant kale sald with roasted tomatoes and goat cheese and talked with Dad for a while and am now off to bed in prep for tomorrow.

When the matriarch dies, does someone step in? Does the family line jump to another or something? What do elephants do, those giant, wise gray bags of matriarchal coolness?