GONE

Well, what can I say. this has been quite a trip so far. Am currently dining on Paul Newman popcorn and a glass of rose and, for the first time since I arrived, have the house to myself. My first night alone here. I feel strangely protected. Which hasn't stopped me from leaping up to shut and lock the doors and windows just now when I heard a rustling in the woods, so am now cooped up in an airless kitchen dying of the heat. There is no one at the butcher block watching Turner Classics movies on TV. No one choking on pills. No one thumping in with a walker to get their fourth banana of the day. No one to go see if they need anything, or if they're still sleeping, or breathing. I went out to the Dreamaway Lodge on Saturday for dinner and for the first time in 3 years didn't have to arrange a parent-sitter.

My mother died in Terri's arms at 5:05 PM last Friday. 

I was out getting her more Ativan, which we;d run out of and would need to get her through the night. Dominick had driven me to Lenox, leaving Bonnie and Terri on Peg-duty, then on to my friend Tory's to collect the Subaru she has once again kindly loaned me. Terri had asked me to pick up some Depends with side tapes, like baby diapers, and I had to go to 3 places to find them, finally finding a package at Rite Aid but when I got to the till the cashier said Oh, sorry, these only come in cartons of 10, I can't sell just one package. "Oh please, please!" I said, eyes filling. "My mother is dying! I only need one! Please??" Bless her, she did. And I drove over the mountain. And when I got home, Terri was at the door, waiting. 

"I'm so sorry, Lise (my real name). You mother passed half an hour ago. We didn't want to call you while you were driving."

I knew it. I knew that would happen. I'd just spent four hours holding her--alternating with Dominick between Peg-duty and sweeping pine needles off the driveway. And it was hard. really hard. She was moaning and groaning and clearly in distress, letting out these awful sounds. We gave her Ativan every 4 hrs and morphine squirted under her tongue every 2, and still, nothing seemed to calm her. I sat and patted and stroked and in a panic said sappy stuff like "Mama, Mama, it's ok. Let go. Don't be scared, We're all coming. We're all right behind you, I swear, hopefully not too soon, but we're coming, honest, you're not alone" and so on. Then Terri arrives and we discover all the wails were due to gas pain, not fear of death. Felt like an idiot. I knew had Peg been able to speak she would have told me to shut the fuck up. A major bowel explosion followed, attended by Terri and Dominick. They are in line for sainthood, for sure.

So. I left. Terri was holding a clean Peg, singing an Irish lullaby to her, Peg opened her eyes, closed them, Terri heard the "rattle", Peg took a big breath, then--that was it. Bonnie had just that second got a call from her son so also missed it. 

Terri held both my parents as they died. "Privileged and honored" she says. Whereas I feel privileged and honored to know Terri, and Bonnie, and Dominick.

I've never seen a dead person before. I knelt down, held Peg and kissed her, stroked her forehead. Was sure I saw her breathing. Looked for a pulse. Decided it was mine, after all, not hers. Mama felt cold, but then again she spent he life being cold, so in fact she didn't feel all that unusual. But her face! I didn't see Peg there. She had her head turned to the wall, mouth open, no upper teeth in--which always looks weird but now, with no living flesh to hold her lips in place--her top lips drew back in a strange way. And her nose! It wasn't hers at all. It  looked hooked, like those pics of pharaohs. I just kept staring, wishing she looked familiar. Almost wondering who this stranger was.

 I need that image to fade. Soon. Don't like it.

The Hospice nurse arrived to certify the death. Coincidentally, it was Denise, from up the road, a friend from long ago, a combination Hospice nurse and motorcycle monkey, as she calls, it, where the guy drives and you hang out horizontally from some platform attached to, dressed like Spiderman. Denis who also, as it happens--yet another skill--was the bartender at Den's and my wedding here in the garden in 1984. We all sat around the butcher block. Opened wine. Black bean dip and blue corn chips. Salsa.

The man from the funeral home arrived to get Peg, just suddenly appeared in the kitchen, we hadn't heard him knock. You know Better Call Saul from Breaking Bad? I looked up and there's this guy in a slightly shiny suit and rather loud tie, smiling. "Hi! I'm Billy!" he says, cheerfully, like he's here to wash my car. "I have to tell you, I spent only about 45 minutes with your mom when I came here last year to get your dad, but I could have stayed and listened to her all night--all week--year, I swear!"

We had to find an outfit for Peg. I let Terri choose. 

Billy took her away. I think she lay in the freezer until today or maybe tomorrow, when she'll be cremated. Denise says it's a beautiful crematorium, that the walls of the ovens have diamond back something on them---like I'm supposed to get all excited thinking wow! Have we ever chosen the best crematorium for Peg!

Terri and Bonnie stayed overnight with me. Lots of hugging tears. I think I did most of the comforting. Peg's not leaving just one daughter, I realized, but three. At least. 

The phone has not stopped. 

When last I looked I had 189 new emails in my inbox, half from people I don't even know. Peg fans. I can only assume they get my address from Peg's website. 

The NY Times did a grand obit today. He promised he would. And which I still have not read. (Too sad. Too final.)  As did the Minneapolis paper, where Peg grew up. The LA Times rang today, was on the phone with them for over an hour. I wrote one for the local paper. They all need photos, and I couldn't seem to find the right ones, this file, that file, I thought I was so organized but feel I've spent half the day emailing picture editors saying no no no, don't use the one I just sent, mistake (me with Mabel on beach), use THIS one...

PEG WOULD HAVE LOVED THIS! THE ATTENTION!

Next on the list is the house. First things first. Bonnie, Terri, Dominick and I have removed all traces of "Medical". Goodbye catheter bags. Wheelchairs. Fixodent. Walkers. Canes. Bunion pads and so on. Next we tackled Peg's personal stuff. Hard, but easier when all here together doing it. Jewellery. I gave Terri Peg's gold Irish Claddagh ring I got Peg in Galway. I gave Bonnie the other one Peg wore all the time, a little diamond band. We did her make-up, handbag, then pictures, photos. Removed the image, saved the frame. Set aside what goes with me to England, what is saved for house clearance (if we have one), what goes into bin. 

Clothes went today, too, the Goodwill stuff. High-end Consigment shop stuff saving for another day.

I had an outing today. Dropped off Peg's nine million eyeglasses at the eye place for recycling, returned unopened Depends to Rite Aid and got a refund, stopped at Berkshire Place rehab center where she was last March to confirm they want her book donations (yes), which I will check, you can be sure, before dispensing, for any hidden $20 bills, plus make sure every single one is embossed with the Peg Lynch Library embosser I had made. 

Bonnie and I did finances. Enough in the kitty for a few months. 

I went to the funeral home and signed all the paperwork.  

Estate agent/realtor tomorrow. Lawyer Thursday. 

I'm--fine. Maybe. Mostly. Now and then. I heard from a former friend who I didn't think liked me, and that was nice. And, the big news: Outside Bob coming back! 

This is a terrible post. Boring. Am running on adrenalin and trying not to get emotional. Apologies.