There's nothing more gay than a saxophone solo from the '80s. There's nothing more horrible than a saxophone player that is stuck in '80s mode. This kind of saxophone player usually is in late night talk show bands. When a musical guest comes in, the gay '80s style saxophone player gets jealous and wants to throw in fills to show off. This turns what would be a great appearance from a talented group or artist into an episode of "Full House"--iz too many gay, holmes! Paul Schaffer is guilty of this, but he uses synthesizers instead, which actually makes things sound like the Full House theme song. I think that qualifies him as TIGF!!!, but that is for another post.
TIGF!!! It's part of the healing process.
Monday, February 21, 2011
This song was performed at my mother's funeral service on Saturday. It was a beautiful service. Many came to pay their respects. The weather wasn't ideal, but everything went well. I held it together up until my oldest niece and I were talking. I asked her what she was going to name her daughter when she is born; she said that her name would be Lily Marilyn. I was deeply touched by this. I know it's just a middle name, but it just meant so much to me.
Anyway, I also found out yesterday, from a man (he used to be my scout master) who works for the funeral home, that his son was the one who did all of the grave preparations and burial of my mother. I took it upon me to thank his son. After doing so, pretty much all of the emotion that I'd been holding back came flowing out. I don't know why it should be so emotional because the guy got paid. I suppose it is because I know that this kid knew my mother to an extent--having someone that you know do this means a bit more.
Well, I know that you've had to put up with many posts in the last year of me grieving my sister. Now you'll have to put up with my grieving process again. Thanks for sticking with me.
My mother has passed away. Her passing occurred at 12:25 am, Feb. 16, 2011. My brother Mike and I were by her side as she died. The evening was real hard. Her breathing became strained and erratic. That is when I knew that the dying process had started. The struggle and every desperate breath, flinch, and moan was almost too much for me to bear. I am glad that I did not chicken out, however. Witnessing her breathing go into nothing, her body fall into eternal rest, and her complexion become waxen was an experience that I will never forget. As hard as that was to experience, it was special in only the way that one word can describe: merciful.
This post is coming right after having settled affairs with hospice and the mortuary. I think I needed to write this down before I tried to sleep. I'm feeling a kind of spiritual euphoria right now. I think when I wake up tomorrow I will be fairly spent in all respects and heavy with grief. I just wanted to let you all know that I can still feel her. There is spirit. The afterlife is real. There is no void unless we create it within or choose it for ourselves. My mom is in the best place possible. I'm glad that she made it, finally. These last few days were the nastiest, pain-filled days that she'd ever had. She now rests. I love you, mom! I feel like the luckiest son in the whole world to have had you as my mother. I am proud of you for the way you fought through this horrible disease. I will miss you terribly.
Lately, I've been taking extra work where I can and my schedule has been all over the place as a result. Some days, I will only work for four hours and another day be working thirteen, mostly being a mover. I have never been in a position to have had much status associated with what I do for a living, so taking scraps isn't a big deal for me. It would be nice to have a job where people would actually not be inclined to disassociate themselves from me for fear of the smell. I get that feeling, like I'm an over the hill actor who's been type cast. Well, I'll have to keep at it and maybe I'll land a better part.
The decision was made last night for my mother to stop treatment. Her oncologist felt that the risk of going through chemotherapy was not worth her quality of life suffering as a result. How long my mother will hang on for is not known.
Well, that pretty much sums up my life at the moment.
So, the doctors have finally given us their diagnosis: My mom has stage IV lung cancer. This is what I pretty much expected to hear, given how the cancer has spread. As of yet we have not been told whether the doctors feel that she can handle chemotherapy. She has been doing better. She eats more and is able to communicate easier. However, this improvement does not mean that she will live for very long. I will keep on updating you all as I find out more.
