...the fun-flask

...I grew up in a funeral home. I know I've discussed this issue before, but it begs mentioning again. I was a second generation of kids living in a funeral home. I never found it weird. I never found it creepy, my dad was the original 'Work from Home' guy. There is a noise level and a sense of somber at times learned in living in a funeral home. You learn at a young age how to answer a business phone, arrange flower baskets, and clean ashtrays. These were all valuable lessons a nine year old could take on with her in life. I'm grateful for many fond memories of living in a small town funeral home as a kid. It also needs to be mentioned, that while I speak a lot of my liquor cabinet, I do not have an issue with drinking. I'm a responsible adult. However, there are those "desperate times, call for desperate measure" moments...I am also someone who knows everything is best in moderation.

Why the strange, illusive confession statement above? It has everything to do with my flowing of emotions in the last couple of days. Tears. That's it. Just tears. Not really able to put words to why they have been creeping in. I'm a realist, I know that life can't be undone. I know that this last year, while at times difficult, has taught me more than could ever be put into words. The enormity of my life, and all that has happened, good and bad, has set in. I was discussing today with a wise friend, I didn't know what the 'year mark' would feel like. I could sit and dwell on all the things I've not accomplished. The poor mothering that has happened more than a time or two. The fact that it all is still fairly terrifying, but I haven't the option to run. At times, decompressing, is an understatement...Well, it brings me to a year ago...

The day after Jason passed away, I really didn't want to do anything but lie in bed, pull the covers over my head and wallow. The loud kind of wallow. The kind you see women in the streets doing in foreign countries on the news. That was my idea of decompressing, and it didn't happen. Being raised in a funeral home, I should have known better. I had to slap on some clothes, and go plan a funeral...so we'll put a pin in the wallow until later? Not exactly. There was life to handle. Calls from friends and family. Doors to answer with baked goods, dinner, cards, and flowers. There were people to call back and voice mails to listen to. Oh, there were also four confused kids wandering around here, and no one really knew what to say to them...including me. If there were ever a time to RUN, that would have been it, I even think about that to this day...it, at the time, was almost TOO MUCH...

The thought of having to see people upset, hold my own emotions together, and thank them in the manner that I thought they deserved...now we've hit the too much status. I realize that I put these pressures on myself, but that's who I am, sadly. For about 12 hours I thought about skipping town. I just didn't think I could pull the visitation off...the control freak possibly losing control? Not good. It was then that I turned to my sainted friend April, and uttered the words that have made me laugh/smile in the last few weeks thinking about it. I said, "April...we are going to need a 'fun-flask'..." To which her three words back to me were a resounding, "...I'M ON IT!"

Now, my plan was not to get hammered at my late husbands visitation. It was, for me, like taking an umbrella to fight off the rain. If at some point, I thought I needed it, then I had it in my arsenal. On the way to the visitation, April was handing me lipstick to apply while driving. Reassuring me, that if there were ever a time I needed anything, just to nod at her and she'd be on it. My kids would end up playing/watching movies, gorging themselves with Halloween candy and soda a designated room at the funeral home, thankfully one less thing to worry about. The funeral director, and dear friend, wasn't lying when he said he predicted it to be a large turn out...while that was unbelievable, it was also very nice. I didn't really have time to give April the 'nod', however she would come by and check on me. "...oh, I'm fine", I'd say to her. After about 3 hours in, she came up and said, "...here, you need to drink this...(water, with a splash of something)". Clearly, she was nodding for me, and I'm grateful to her for it.

I feel like life doesn't give you a second chance...something, that while it is gut wrenching to learn, man, if you can understand it...the world is an entirely different place. Life is always going to get harder. So, you cry about it, cuss about it, drink about it, and embrace it. That's where I'm heading. That's what I'm wanting to teach my kids in this next year. Life is what YOU make of it. If you love someone, you let them know. If you are hurt by someone, you kindly confront them. If you have dreams, you follow them. If you take the easy way, those dreams might be a while out of your reach. The time you have here on earth is fleeting, make sure you know what you stand for, and you are able to SHOW, not tell, others by your example. Make every moment (even the ones where you are about to lose your shit) count...they are the ones you'll remember anyway...and for heaven's sake, don't forget your fun-flask, I mean umbrella...

...still hate the jazz clarinet...

So, there I am...in a hospital gown, consenting that I don't have any hidden metal objects, and preparing to lay down on an MRI bed. This technician told me the same things as the last MRI technician ...Lie still. This will take about 45 minutes.We'll talk you through it as we go. Are you comfortable? Clearly, the last question was rhetorical, however I wonder if anyone ever says, "...um, hell no?!". Before she laid me down, she asked if there was anything I would like to listen to during the scan. I think I jokingly said, "...got any Black Sabbath?" to which she just blankly looked at me. I said, how about easy listening...and then I was entombed.

The MRI started. It was as loud as I remember it, so loud it's almost creepy. Like at some point the Boeing 727 that you are hearing will brush up against your face. The technician voiced into my head phones that we were going to get started, and she turned on the music. Then, all of the sudden...the infamous jazz clarinet came on...you know who I'm talking about, Kenny G. I thought, okay, I can get through one song. Then, there was another. Trying to mentally catalog what I'd gotten for my 10th birthday to pass the time. No, it wasn't easy listening, it was the Kenny G station. I must have been fidgety, because she stopped the music, and said, "...Katherine, is everything okay?" To which I think I yelled (no, I know I yelled), PLEASE JESUS NO MORE KENNY G...I'd rather listen to Rush Limbaugh!!

When my body deals with pain, it does funny things. After a while, it doesn't even process the level of pain, I just deal. To me, it's just added to the list of things I have to tweak in my daily life. It's one of the toys I have to step over to get to the coffee pot. The pants I turn right side out before I load the washer. It's, unfortunately until I can have further work done, part of me. But, as I was climbing over one of the mandated-Atticus-gates in my house the other day, it got to me. Not sure if it was pain. Not sure if it was stress. Not sure if it was exhaustion. Not sure if I could blame it solely on hormones. Things for a moment caught up, and slightly kicked me in the behind...and good ol' self doubt came knocking...he's as welcome as Kenny G up in here...

Then the craziest thing happened...my phone stopped working. Okay, that's not crazy to many. But, my phone has become my portal to the outside world. Where no one is yelling, "SAY MAP" or asking why we are eating THAT for breakfast. It's my sanctuary, mainly because it's portable, and I'm pretty sure they frown on making toaster strudels while IN bed. I was without. While it was sort of foreign to not to have a predawn check-in with my friend, it was a time when I didn't have to check the weather for no reason. I didn't have to see who posted what on Facebook. I could carry on a conversation, not because I had to, but because I actually wanted to. It was weird but nice to be unplugged. After I sorted out my problem, I realized it sort of jump started me in some weird way...though it was nice to see that I had a few missed calls verifying if I was alive...

The self doubt, the exhaustion, the pain, the hormones...they are all like the girl that crashes the party that no one likes. You're not sure who invited her. You'd think sooner or later you'd just get used to her, but you can't stand her. She's the constant reminder that you could 'do better' or 'don't measure up'. And then about the time you think you can tolerate her...she spills her beer on you and says, "Do you got any Kenny G?!"...and then it's just on.