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02/10/2003 Entry: "Painful weekend" I'm numb, but okay. This weekend was sure painful. But it was necessary. I just got back from a small, dying coal town called Keyser, West Virginia, Christine's home growing up. Her sister Brenda had her services there because it was kind of in the middle of where everyone was. This story has so many players, and my mind is all clogged and in shock with this past week, it's hard to figure it all out. First, there is Brenda, who died. Then Bernie, her husband, who is doing better now, and actually managed to crack a few jokes. Then there is Heather, their daughter, who is about the same. Kind of numb, but recovering. I worried about those two the most, but they seem to have each other and are on the road to recovery. After all, Heather has her newborn to take care of, and Bernie has Heather and the newborn to take care of. At least Brenda got to see her granddaughter before she died. It was no small bit of news that Brenda had been sick for a while. She never talked about it, but she was very ill for the last three years, and felt absolutely TERRIBLE that Bernie had to suffer so much to take care of her. They loved each other more than ... man, only 30 years of a loving marriage could produce those two, plus a great daughter to boot. But her death was pretty sudden, under suspicious circumstances, as one of my previous entries mentioned. We were going to leave Friday, but then the weather got bad, and so we left early Saturday morning. We took our two dogs with us. Ahfu loves travel. Widget hates it, and promptly drooled excessively until he threw up during the trip. We had rented a Chevy Blazer 4x4, but got a Ford Explorer without 4x4, a fact we discovered later... too late. We drove with Debbie down to her place (owned by her daughter and son-in-law), and then couldn't get back out of their driveway. They live near Piedmont, right next to the sewage treatment plant that treats water spilled from the great paper mill, Westvaco. They got the Victorian house in complete ruin, but have lovingly restored it. Sadly, it's right on the side of a mountain, so they have no yard to speak of, and their driveway is a steep pitch down from a street which runs around the mountain like a loosely-fitting belt. We got stuck. So we had to wait for Debbie's daughter, Erica, and her husband Travis to haul us out of their driveway. Travis was a patient angel and got us out, explaining to us we didn't have a 4x4, which explained why we couldn't find it on the dashboard anywhere (the rental place said it was part of the vehicle...). But he got us out. Our hotel was the same hotel we always go to: Keyser Inn Econo-lodge. Originally the "Keyser Inn," it outright failed at its upscale attempts to be worldly, so Econo-lodge bought them out. At least they let us keep dogs. The rooming is... well, clean and simple, and the clientele a little on the odd side, but otherwise, I found no fault with our lodging. Christine's sister Cheryl and her husband Jack also made it down from Ohio, barely, because their truck is always on the edge of breaking down. On the way in, they started to leak coolant, but the problem fixed itself, apparently. They got a room across from us, and we ferried them back and forth to functions. We also heard her brother Fran, from Florida, did make it up. There was debate until the last minute, but he and his girlfriend Lulu made it up. He also brought his daughter Hope, whom I hadn't seen since she was 8. Now she's 17 and all grown up. I saw quite a few people I hadn't seen as kids, older and looking like adults with kid's faces. Seems a shame when family only gets together for funerals. Last funeral was mom's back in 1998. This felt like that all over again. On Sunday, we went to the funeral home, and we got to go early as direct family. Bernie had set up a "memorial board" where everyone was invited to bring photos of Brenda, and the display was beautiful. By the time the real service for everybody got started, the place was packed, and people were standing in a fairly-large room. It was hard to be all rigid and brave with a room full of crying people. I almost broke down myself, but I had to suck it in... swallow it down. Let my nightmares take care of things. I had to be there for everyone, and I think I helped. After the service, they had another "family only" viewing down by the cemetery. It was freezing; a winter storm was on its way, and everyone was talking about it. The sky was only partly cloudy, but it was blowing in the valley that made this cemetery, and I was shivering. Afterwards, we went to a church where people had prepared meals. Now... I am not sure how many of you are aware of this, and I don't know how common this is. But when Nanny, Mom, and Brenda died, some church somewhere fed everybody. It hasn't always been the same church, and this church was not even Brenda's, but they fed everybody some nice chicken and ham, plus all kinds of side items and desserts. Everyone from the service came, and the packed church function room was full of socializing and condolences to Bernie, Heather, and all of Brenda's siblings. After that, we went back to the hotel, exhausted, and slept a long time. I had nightmares, but that's par for course. You can't suppress all this grief and expect to just keep it down. But it's not my sister, I have to be there for my wife, and she doesn't need to see me trying to steal sympathy. Nightmares don't have the power they used to, due to an odd medication I was taking for my migraines once. They gave me nightmares, vivid ones, every night for months. After a few weeks of this, my brain ran out of themes, and even my "dream logic" began to go, "Oh, the bees thing. Look, I have been running away from giant bees several times now, and I am just not afraid of them anymore. Give me something else. Oh, being caught without pants. Well, why be embarrassed? That's my own damn fault for not checking when I left for work. Re-living junior high? Okay, nice attempt, but you know... it's getting stale. I mean, I feel sorry for that bully, and that guy... he ended up not being so bad in high school. Being raped again? Nah... after the proctologist exam, it just seems funny now..." Then i stopped taking that medication and the dreams went away, but the lack of fear of them remain. So one dream, being in a mental hospital claiming that my life was not real ended up being almost a triumph at the end when I beat the haunted clown nurse at her own logic. I woke up with this phrase in my mind, "You know... the game here is not to escape. The game in this ward is like a role-playing game of cards. You have two sides. The crazy side, and the nurse's side. Both have different defense and attacks. You hold your cards close, and gain cards from experiences. Now, the real game begins when you realize the goal is not to quit the game, but survive with all your cards, becoming stronger with each play, until you are undefeatable. You start..." We got up Monday, finished our visits, and went home. We talked a lot about death. A lot. Where we go, what we do, my near death experience and what I learned from that. We're also still not sure if we're going to Katsucon or not. The long term issue here goes back to Bernie and Heather. After the hubbub of a recent and sudden death, the support wanes quickly, leaving you alone for the first time. You get massive support before, during, and about a week after the funeral. Then it drops sharply, and this is where a TRUE friend will help you: the long term situation. When the shock wears off and the pangs of being alone first grip your heart like an icy claw. Still getting mail addressed to that person. Telling the bank, insurance company, and tax office. The first missed birthday, or anniversary, Christmas, or other special time you spent together. Dealing with people who were away and hadn't heard, and you have to say, "I am sorry you didn't hear, she died a few months ago." What to do with her things when they get old and unusable ("I remember she was so happy when we finally got that car... and now it's dying...")? How long to sleep on just "your side" of the bed. Nights of loneliness or hearing that song she always liked. Sudden bursts of tears when you eat at the table alone, realizing you still set a place for her. When, finally, their pet you took care of all this time dies. After a long time, someone shows you old home movies, and you see her again, hear her voice, and miss her all over again. When the grandchildren grow up, not knowing their grandma, and asking about her. When a memory, long locked away, suddenly springs to life like a hidden jack-in-the-box, about a perfect summer breeze, hitting her hair just so, and her turning her familiar eyes to you and saying she loves you and that vacation was great, but that funny-looking man at that Lobster Restaurant was sure rude. This is when you have to be there for them, hug them, let them cry, be a good listener, and share stories about what a great person she was. Hug your loved ones for me. Cherish the times you have them. They fade all too quickly.