The other morning I went to get a money order for my rent. They make it really easy and added a drive-thru so if you’re lazy, you just have to shove your money into a drawer and wait for your money order to come out. The cashier told me that every time I drive up, he always wanted to tell me I looked like someone but never had. I braced myself for his comparison as if I already knew the word that was going to come out of his mouth. “Ms. Gonzalez, every time you drive up I always want to tell you you look like someone, do you know who? BRAVE!”. I smiled as if I’ve never been compared to a Disney princess before, thanked him, and drove off.
I admire people who can easily talk to strangers. I guess I should have asked his name so that next time, I can thank him for getting my money order for me. I’m good at fake talking to people. I’ve practiced being fake enough to be real when I did theatre. That’s easy. Telling people I’m fine and not crying is really easy. Speaking at my mom’s funeral was easier. Lying to people is easy.
What’s not easy is driving the 8 miles to my house from work through tears because I spent all day faking that I’m fine. What’s not easy is calling my dad to ask about car insurance only to get told that he can’t help me. What’s not easy is having to pick out a headstone over the phone.
Sometimes, life isn’t easy, but I can easily pretend it is I suppose.
Yesterday morning as I tapped the post button, we got the call. They took off her oxygen and we were able to sit with her for 15 minutes until she left.
Her journey is over.
I took the first flight out of Nashville with my sister yesterday. We took a plane, taxi, bus, and train to get to where we needed to be but we’re here.
Today was emotionally draining. My dad has ever only cried in front of us once when his mom passed and today was hard. There were difficult decisions that had to be made and none of us wanted to accept her one wish.
My dad partook in prayer two times today and he also held my hand.
We called Dina. Dina just happens to always be with us when someone in our family passes. Like she’s heaven’s welcoming committee. So she met us in the cafeteria. She’s gathering the lions. DeLeons will be flooding the halls tomorrow to say their last goodbyes and I sit here knowing very well tomorrow night I won’t have a mom.
I’m broken and it hasn’t even happened yet.
I’m flying home on Friday. I have to decide if I’m going to pack a black dress and heels. If I pack them, I’m choosing to accept the possibility of having to wear them during my visit if so the visit ends in a funeral.
Having the idea of my mom passing away presented to me has made this the toughest trip imaginable.
I don’t know if it’s acceptable to be mad at God but I am. He already took away two of my best friends and he can’t take away her. I won’t allow it.
I don’t want to think about the possibility of knowing my husband won’t have ever met her. Or my children. Who am I going to call when I have questions about pregnancy? Who’s going to make sure I paid my car insurance? I’m still grieving over Lee, and Chorizo, and I can’t bear to add another name to that list.
From what I understand, she’s given up. She’s accepted the idea. How could this happen? Why has this happened?
Good news is not abundant these days and I’m not ok.