The luckiest Girl in the world

I’m not one to get terribly upset by the death of a celebrity, but for some reason, the death of Lisa Marie Presley, blanketed me in a feeling of melancholy.

I didn’t know her, I wasn’t a follower of her music, but as a kid, I though she was the luckiest girl in the world. My parents were fans of Elvis and my dad took my mom to see him at the International Hotel in August 1969, a year before I was born. At that concert, my dad tipped the maitre’d really well and got a table near the stage. When Elvis was kissing the ladies, he urged my mom to go get a kiss from the King. Unfortunately, she was too shy for a smooch. Ugh.

I probably would have been just as nervous to go get a kiss. Elvis was a handsome devil who was larger than life. In 1976, I named my first pets, a couple of hamsters, Elvis and Priscilla. Unlike the real Elvis, hamster Elvis tragically ate his offspring, which the real Elvis would never do. I lost interest in hamster Elvis after that.

Real Elvis died the day before my birthday on August 16, 1977. I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news—planted, probably three inches away, in front of the boob tube surrounded by a sea of shag carpeting. He died young, not a member of the tragic 27 club, but at 42, which seems like a spring chicken to me now.

Lisa Marie was 54 when she died, just two years older than me, which makes me think that maybe she wasn’t the luckiest girl in the world. Her beloved son, Benjamin, took his own life in 2020 and she was grieving that loss, which she wrote about here.

The statement she made in that essay that resonated with me the most was this, “Grief is something you will have to carry with you for the rest of your life, in spite of what certain people or our culture wants us to believe. You do not "get over it," you do not "move on," period.”

The truth of that statement hit me this week at the funeral of my friend’s mom. The second I sat down in that church, tears streamed and pooled into my mask. I couldn’t stop crying and this is soooooooooooo not me. Sure I felt empathy for my friend and her loss, but I didn’t know her mom, so the waterworks weren’t really for Ruth Eastland. Although she sounded like a hell of a gal and the service was beautiful.

This crying jag was all about the death of my own mom, who never got a funeral due to Covid after her death in October of 2020. As I sat in that pew, guilt and grief and anger bubbled up inside me in a jumble of confusion. My eyesockets were the only escape for the sadness, so I dabbed at them furiously with wadded up tissues, as my grief counselor’s voice echoed in my head, “feel your feelings.” So, I did. I sat there and I felt them. I cried, I wiped my tears, I blew my nose. At one point, I had to leave the room as I was about to have a coughing fit, which during a pandemic might cause some panic. My first instinct with all my crying was to be ashamed and go hide in the bathroom until the service was over, but I didn’t. I returned with fresh tissue to cry some more.

Grief is normal. It’s the price we pay for love. And to love and to know love is lucky.

Monday Mourning on a Wednesday

Way back in 2008 when I was researching death professions, I started a blog called “The Death Writer.” On that blog, I used to ask people the same questions that I’m answering in this post. My aim was to allow people to talk about their loved one and the grief they experienced, which might normalize this conversation in some small way.

I am coming up on the one year anniversary of my mom’s death and I still feel the weight of grief. The fact that my mom died of the Covid virus, which is still raging due to the Delta variant, complicates matters. I am not going to lie or sugar coat the fact that I feel a lot of anger towards the people who deny how deadly it is. I guess they have to experience it on a personal level before it gets real. With that said…

Who was the person?

My mom, Ora McCully.

How old were you at the time?

50

How old was the person?

88

Was it a sudden death or did you know it was going to happen?

My mom was exposed to Covid 19 when my stepdad was brought home from physical rehab. He had been there for a month and wasn’t getting better. They assured my mom he tested negative, but after a bit of digging, I found that they tested him on the day he was released and the lab report said, “sample spilled in transit, please resubmit.” He died eight days after coming home. Five days after his death, she tested positive for Covid and was admitted to the hospital. I wrote about this experience for CNN. Because she was so healthy, I totally thought she was going to be okay. It wasn’t until she had to be intubated on her birthday that the possibility of death really sunk in. My mom didn’t want to be intubated and the doctor couldn’t do it without her consent. He asked that I come to the hospital to convince her. And I did.

I wrote about my regret about making that decision for an anthology called “The Phone: An Unruly Collection of Second Chances.” This book was inspired by an art installation called “phone of the wind,” which you can read about here. I believe it will be released in December of this year. I will keep you posted.

Did you and the person ever talk about death?

Yes. I had written a book called “Death Becomes Us,” which she had read. She attended one of my Death Over Dinners and I encouraged her to get her affairs in order. At the time of her death, she did have an Advance Directive and a handwritten will, which is legal in Texas, but her spouse died before her, and he didn’t have a will. They were both each other’s beneficiaries, which was incredibly complex to navigate. Please, do your loved ones a favor and draft a will, an advance directive, appoint someone as your medical and/or financial power of attorney. Trust me on this one. It is never too early to think about and plan for the end. It is truly a gift you can give your loved ones.

Had you experienced any other deaths in your life before this person died?

Yes. My grandmother, Lola, when I was fourteen. My mother-in-law, Lovina Skjolsvik and my dad, Bob Johson. My neighbor, Burch Stevens, also died in 2020 and I found his body.

Were people supportive of you in your grief or did they shy away from you when you were grieving?

Because I wrote about my mom on Facebook to update friends and family on her condition, many people reached out to me after she died. People sent cards, sent flowers and dropped off food. But, as is typical and I am just as guilty of it as the next person, after the initial flood of sympathy and concern, people stop talking about her. Why do people, including myself, do this? Because they don’t want to make you feel sad. SPOILER ALERT I am already sad, so you bringing up my mom isn’t going to make me even sadder. If anything, it reminds me that she lives on in the thoughts and memories of others. I may start to cry, but I’ve learned through grief counseling that that is okay. The more we love, the more we are going to grieve. I am going on a year and my grief is still there. While it’s not as raw as the day she died, not a day goes by that I don’t think about my mom or want to call her and tell her what’s going on in my life or ask her a question.

Was the person buried or cremated?

My mom was cremated. Next week, my mom and stepdad will finally be placed in a cemetery. Due to the surge of Covid cases in Texas, the in person memorial service has been postponed.

Did you learn anything about the grieving process you’d like to share?

Because we can’t gather due to Covid and my siblings don’t want to risk their health by traveling to Texas right now, I have learned how important gathering with friends and family is in the grief process. People need people. We also need ceremonies and rituals. We did have a Zoom memorial that I livestreamed on Facebook, which was nice, but I would have preferred to have had one in person. I may not be the huggiest person in the world, but I needed lots of hugs. Still do.

Were there any songs played at the memorial that were important to the person?

Yes. My sister-in-law, Nancy, made a lovely slideshow of my mom. The video plays to the song, “You and Me Against the World” which was a song that she used to play a lot when I was a kid. She said it was our song. It makes me bawl like a baby everytime I hear it. Another song that brings me to tears is “Remember Me” from the animated film Coco. My mom loved music, so there are a ton of songs out there that remind me of her. When I was a teenager, I used to be embarrassed when she would sing in the car with my friends. Now, I would give anything to hear her belt out a show tune.

A Chat with Julie about the Change

Welcome to “The Pause!” Every Wednesday (if I can find women of a certain age who are willing to share their experience with me and you) there will be a new post.

Why am I doing this? Well, I’m almost 50 and I would REALLY like to feel less alone in this new chapter of my life. I feel like our culture doesn’t want to talk about menopause. It’s like if you admit that your period has stopped, you are admitting to something shameful or unnatural. Like death, menopause is both inevitable (if you’re lucky enough to grow older) and pretty darn natural. I used to think it was hard to get people to talk about death, but you can double that hesitancy when it comes to chatting about “THE CHANGE!”

If you read the first post, I am now on a quest to find media representations of a menopausal woman. I couldn’t find one, so we’re going with an awesome Ted Talk by Sandra Tsing Loh. If you know of any story lines in movies or television shows that address this major transition in a woman’s life without making it a punchline, leave it in the comments!

So, before we begin our chat, let’s define perimenopause and menopause from Merriam Webster’s online dictionary.

Definition of menopause

1: the natural cessation of menstruation that usually occurs between the ages of 45 and 55 also : the period during which such cessation occurs

— called also climacteric

— compare PERIMENOPAUSE

2: cessation of menstruation from other than natural causes

Definition of perimenopause

: the period around the onset of menopause that is often marked by various physical signs (such as hot flashes and menstrual irregularity)

So now that that’s clear, my next willing participant is Julie who is in her sixties.

1.      Do you remember your mother or an older woman in your family going through “the change of life?” If so, what was that like?

I don't know that anyone ever talked about it to me, or that I was aware of it. However, my own bipolar disorder was triggered most by hormones (onset of menstruation, pregnancy, nursing...), and my paternal grandmother, also bipolar, committed suicide in her late 50s or early 60s after five children and years of unsuccessful treatment (medicines and electroshock therapy). I suspect she may have had similar issues.

2.      Was perimenopause/menopause ever discussed with you by your mother, sister, friend, or a doctor? If so, what did that discussion entail?

I don't know where I first learned of perimenopause—reading, doctor, or friend. I do know that I didn't seek out enough information or ask enough questions. As a result, I did not act quickly enough to prevent some vaginal atrophy. I thought that my dryness was due simply to perimenopause, and my doctor suggested coconut oil (very messy). I've had better luck with two products (Vulva Harmony and Vulvacare). Other products did little to help. Sea buckthorn capsules are my latest effort to make intercourse tolerable/possible again. They must mimic hormones well, as they make me irritable. I can't tell yet if they help. Women clearly need to tell each other more much earlier.

3.      Was menopause something you feared or something you looked forward to? (Yay, no more periods! Boo, I’m drowning in my own sweat!)

I really didn't understand that I might lose my sexuality by not being proactive, so primarily looked forward to fewer hormone-induced mood swings. Nobody loves menstrual cycles, do they?

4.      What was your experience like? Did you burst into flames? Grow a mustache? Gain a ton of weight? Lose your hair? Lose your mind? Or was it easy peasy, Tampax can kiss my vageasy?

At about age 45, I began gaining weight and losing my waistline. It was concerning, but seemed pretty normal. I remained busy and active. No hair loss until around 58 (slight thinning). I may have missed a great deal because I developed type 1 diabetes at age 48 (medical rarity), had a vaginal hysterectomy (retained only ovaries) due to a prolapsed uterus the same fall, and was so immersed in diabetes management that I could no longer separate the two accurately.

5. Is there anything you wish you had known before you went through perimenopause/menopause?Anything you would have done differently?

I would have considered natural treatments to retain vaginal integrity and lubrication. It's hard to amend loss of functionality. I fear hormonal treatment because type 1 diabetes increases cancer risk significantly. I like living better than sex.  I certainly wish I'd read more and asked more questions. I could also be more adventuresome (not closed to other options or naive, but rarely employ them anymore. At some point, sex begins to feel as much like work as like pleasure when years of dysfunction make it increasingly infrequent.

Julie, thank you so much for your honesty and for sharing your experience!

And you can too! Just reach out via my contact page. If you want me to reach out to you and help me do my little part to help save the USPS. I bought a TON of stamps and if you sign up for my newsletter, I will send you some swag (stickers, bookmarks and if you pre-order my book, I’ll send you a cute little button!!) from my debut novel Forever 51. (It’s about an eternally menopausal vampire.)