Haunting

For as long as I can remember, my mom made me promise three things under penalty of haunting:

  1. I would never put her in a nursing home.
  2. If she ever had to be on life support, I wouldn't unplug her.
  3. I would make sure she was buried, not cremated.
Ultimately, #3 was the only promise I could keep, and Mom wasn't the type to grade on a curve.

Yet, she isn't the parent who haunts me.

When my dad died, I was two states away with a newborn baby. I had made the trip to see him four weeks postpartum, and there was no doubt the end was near. But I couldn't make the trip twice in such a short period of time, and other family members couldn't get together for a funeral right away, either. 

So, we did the only thing we could do: My older sister had him cremated, and we had a memorial service a few months later.

That was 12 years ago, and I still have dreams that my dad has called but we have a bad phone connection and I can't understand him. I dream he is coming to visit, but he doesn't show up when expected and I'm worried. Or he DOES show up, and I'm overjoyed to see him.

If I had to choose the parent I was closest to, I would hands-down say it was NOT my dad. But my psyche seems unwilling to accept he is gone. On the other hand, my mom - whose hand I held while her heart stopped beating, whose funeral I planned, who threatened to haunt me over two of the three promises I broke - is almost suspiciously silent.

It's hard to witness your loved ones die. Attending a funeral is not on the top of anyone's "things I enjoy" list. But I think not having that final closure with my dad is the reason why he - unintentionally, I'm sure - continues to haunt me.

Either that or Mom found a way to give him a honey-do list even in the afterlife. Maybe she found a way to haunt me after all.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Putting yourself out there

Since I am "the writer" in the family, I am in charge of my 10-year-old son's English classes this year (my husband and I homeschool our children.) I say I am "the writer" because I haven't written anything other than business letters and e-mails for more than five years. Still, as Mike and I were assessing the curriculum for this school year we both decided that it was time for Ian to move beyond basic grammar and - since I am the parent with the most writing experience - that I should be the one to teach all the joys of composition. This was one of the most exciting prospects I had encountered in quite some time. Not only would I finally have an active role in our homeschool, but I would be teaching writing, something I have always loved to do. We just completed day 4 of the school year, and I've lost count of the number of times I've made my son cry. I think we're up to seven. Now, I realize that Ian is only in fifth grade and that I can
Read more

The examined life

The top of the chalkboard in my high school Western Civilization class was emblazoned with this quote: "The unexamined life is not worth living." - Socrates A sophomoric sophomore or an eleventh grader acting like an 11-year-old would sometimes venture to alter the quote, either by erasing part of it or by adding letters here or a word there. Each time this happened, we would snicker and await the reaction of our teacher - Mr. L.R. Smith - when he entered the room. It was always the same. He simply rewrote the quote and started class as though nothing had happened. At first glance, it's obvious that Mr. Smith was following classic teaching (and parenting) advice by not reacting to this non-destructive, rebellious behavior from the children he was charged with teaching. I believe there was much more to his lack of a reaction, however. By writing the quote in chalk instead of using a more permanent medium, he was actually encouraging us to alter it. And, by altering i
Read more

Recorded for quality assurance purposes

Every word uttered in our house is recorded. Our conversations are stored in a comprehensive database for later review and utilization. No, I do not think the FBI, Department of Homeland Security, or IRS has bugged our house or tapped our phone line. I am not a conspiracy theorist. I am the mother of a 2-year-old. Sitcoms, movies, and even commercials are rife with cherubic children creating awkward situations for their parents by revealing intimate family secrets. Remember the commercial in which a little girl in an elevator regales strangers with the details of the Disney cruise she enjoyed with her parents the previous year? The one that culminates with her telling one of the other elevator passengers that her mother refers to her baby brother as "our little souvenir?" I'm pretty sure that commercial was scripted by a mom. For now at least, Lily doesn't tell embarrassing stories about our family. She does, however, repeat everything she hears us say. Every
Read more