- J.M. Barrie. Peter Pan.

My boy-bot’s Mommy passed away early, early yesterday morning. He is being uncharacteristically stoic about it. I am blown away at how together he’s keeping himself and his family. I guess it wasn’t unexpected, with her being in a hospice and a coma for several days. I got a chance to visit with her on Friday, one last time, and just hours before she passed away – I’m pretty thankful for that.

She told boy-bot, a while ago, that her one regret in life was going to be not getting to meet her grandchildren. I doubt that this is true. I think she had many, many regrets – most of which were things she felt were out of her control, therefore not really regrettable, however due to her fretful nature, were likely causes of her demise. Seriously. If she had acted on fixing her problems instead of worrying about how it was impossible to fix them because other people would be hurt, she’d still be alive. I’m amazed at how people can live their lives seemingly following its natural course, but outside of other people’s presence become … wrecks. Worrying about things out of their control – but not really. I could give examples and illustrations, but vagueries will have to do. Essentially, she told us she asked for an escape from her life. She got it. In the form of cancer. Not just cancer… Full Body Cancer. All metastasizing in far less than a year. I’m sad to report that even from the other side, she’s unlikely to meet her grandchildren. They won’t exist. Unless some serious genetic testing can prove they will be free of psychoses. I’m pointing at YOU boy-bot’s evangelical, bi-polar, schizophrenic, OCD-ridden older brother. YOU are a crazy. A crazy, crazy person. Who I feel bad for, and not so bad in alternating waves that pass over me every ten minutes. But mostly, I feel really bad for him and I hope that he can learn to accept help.

So, the funeral will be interesting. It is Friday. It will be small, even though boy-bot’s mom has a gazillion friends, his dad is not permitting them to attend. Mostly because he is also a crazy. Not a crazy – just a really, really shy old man who doesn’t know how to handle himself in front of people. He imagines that they all hate him, and then acts in a manner that makes people hate him. Removing public pressure – he’s one of the sweetest, funniest, smartest people I’ve ever met. Under pressure, rumor has it that he’s not the sweet person I think of him as. Read: asshole. So, we may be a graveside gathering of a dozen or so people paying our respects. Very, very different from a funeral in my own family – but that is ok. Everyone is different.

I’ve been asked to take photos – I’ve politely declined – and then reconsidered – and still won’t do it. I don’t think its appropriate. I understand their purpose in the event that crazy sibling doesn’t come. He’s just going to have to put on his anti-germ suit and get on a plane. I feel really terrible that he didn’t come and see his mom in her last days. I know, for a fact, due to a conversation, that he is already regretting his decision. I hope he makes the right choice for her funeral.

Man, I sound like an asshole. I don’t mean to. I guess I feel a little overwhelmed at how different other people handle these sorts of things. I know what I think is appropriate (writing an obituary, having a funeral with a reception, not telling people they can’t come, gathering family together), and I know how boy-bot’s remaining family is planning things (uhh… they aren’t). I guess I think his mom deserves a bit of normalcy (but if half of her family was normal she’s still be here)… but it’s about the survivors! So I’m conflicted! I guess I just need to let it go, because that’s the lesson in all of this really. Let it go and your body won’t become 98% engulfed in cancerous tumors.

Good story! I have had too much wine. I am really sorry.