Today

[Originally posted to a mailing list of friends; posted here in an attempt to keep my writing in one place. 10/31/05]

This morning, my grandmother passed away.

She went quietly, with very little pain. The exact cause of death is
unknown, but is likely to be complications from her Alzheimer's
combined with natural causes.

I discovered her this morning when I brought breakfast in to them.

If I had to boil my advice on how to deal with the death of a loved
one down to a single sentence, it would probably be "Don't be the one
to find the body."

Grandpa is coping, but is having trouble coming to terms with her
death. His memory isn't allowing him to grieve much. He's already
asked me once this evening where Grandma was, and I had to explain
that she died this morning and that the funeral home had come and
picked up her body. When he is able to remember, though, he's filled
with questions about what we did to deserve this. I'm not sure which
is harder, losing my grandmother or watching him lose his wife (again,
as his first wife died of cancer).

This death has brought with it a lot of firsts for me:

Obviously, I've never been the one to find the body before. In fact,
I've never even seen a dead body that wasn't cleaned up and in a
casket-- ie, outside of the funeral.

I've never dealt with a death in a home-- prior generations have died
in hospitals. I didn't realize that after the EMS people and the
police came out, there would be a period of time in which her body was
left in the house-- the sheriff's office releases the body to a
funeral home, who comes and picks it up. Since we chose a funeral
home in Rochester, and they were already out getting someone else,
Grandma stayed in the house nearly an hour after everyone else had
left.

I didn't realize that the funeral home people drove minivans--
somehow, I don't find it comforting that I could easily put a dead
body in the back of my car.


Tomorrow morning I am supposed to have decided what Grandma will wear
for eternity. I had a hard enough time deciding what she would wear
for a single day. I know that it's something that has to be done if
you're going to have a funeral-- the housecoat she was wearing is
hardly appropriate. When my great-grandmother died, she left a letter
stating which dress to use, which jewelry to use, and which lipstick to
use. Up until today I didn't realize just how thoughtful that letter
was. (Perhaps I shall have to write one for myself, just in case. I
hope that styles change a couple dozen times before it has to be used,
but I don't want to put John through any more than he has to go
through).

Tomorrow afternoon starts the phone calls. My mother has already
offered to call most of the family and a half-dozen of the friends she
and Grandma shared, leaving me with one aunt and a myriad of people I
don't know very well. Today, John called only my mother and my uncle.
(I tried, but I just couldn't bring myself to say that Grandma was
gone. I had a hard enough time when I called John and 911 this
morning-- the closest I could come was "I think she might be dead"
even though she was cold to the touch and her fingernails were blue).
I suppose I could/should have called more people today, but it seems
so pointless to call and say "She's dead, I'll call again when we know
what the arrangements are."