The Day After

Often the day after someone dies there are things that have to be decided and arrangements that have to be made for a funeral or memorial service, visiting hours or a gathering of sorts, burial or provision for ashes, and a reception. One year ago on this date my siblings and I did not have any of those responsibilities because Mom had donated her body to the medical school; they took care of every single arrangement. In 18-24 months they will send her ashes to my brother. Then he can decide what to do.

I helped with calls where I could. My brother was executor and had access to all the accounts, so he needed to make the bulk of contacts. I did make calls to a small group of people to share the news and left a message for my younger brother. I talked to my mom's friend who offered to continue taking in the mail and watering the plants. When someone had information to share or offered to help, I said yes. My feeling was that it was important to let people help in ways they could. We didn't need to do everything ourselves.

Mid-morning my older son called. My kids had talked about how the next week might play out. I told him I was going to make my stopover somewhere in Pennsylvania like I had on my trip down to WV. He offered to fly to meet me and drive with me back to his house in the Boston area. I was touched that my kids had considered what the next days would hold and how they could help. I thanked him and said I had plans to catch up with my friend on the weekend, the one person outside of family that I had spoken with every day since the day my mom fell. We have been friends since junior high school and made our way together through everything life has thrown at us. My son understood and said to let him know if I wanted to stop in Boston on my way home. We would talk next week about Fathers' Day weekend.

My sister spent some time figuring out the best way to schedule her trip home to Scotland. It was complicated. We were both exhausted and needed to get to bed early. Anything left to do could be done on Friday.

We were all but tucked in when my phone rang at 10:00. It was my younger brother. He was at the hospital. It took me a moment to collect myself and consider my words before I told him Mom had died. He said they knew and were determined to finish the trip regardless. They ran into last night's storm and had to stop in Maryland to stay the night. They could find directions to the hospital but didn't know where we were staying, and they wanted me to come so they could follow me to the hotel.

On our way out the door, my sister and I stopped at the desk to get them a room. Then we headed out into the night and back to the place we thought we had left for good. We found their car out front, glad to see them and sad about the circumstances. There was a tearful reunion and a brief summary of what had happened in the last 2 days. We planned to meet in the morning for breakfast.

I have thought a lot about how differently each of my siblings and I dealt with my mom's hospitalization, death, and what came after. There is no right or wrong way. I think what matters is that we have been respectful of each other and what we each needed to do. That hasn't always been easy for me, but in each instance I come back to the fact that I am responsible for myself...only me. 

I am obviously still working through my grief, which doesn't move in a straight line or at the rate that I want. My back still hurts, and today my massage therapist worked out the kinks in a major way.

The journey continues....