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.

OraMcCully.png

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.

Monday Mourning

Today I am so pleased to have my friend Trayce Primm on the blog. Trayce is a hairdressing magician by day and a kick ass writer at night. Not only has she written a bestselling romance novel, she is about to have her second book, "Walk-in" published this November by Bellabooks. 

In addition to attending several of my

Death over Dinner

parties, she was one of my readers at the book launch at the

Neptune Society

. You can follow Trayce on Twitter @TPrimmWrites

DW: Who was the person who died?

TP: My mother. 

DW: How old were you at the time? 

TP: I was forty. 

DW: How old was she? 

TP: 73 

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

TP: My mom suffered from diabetes and heart disease resulting from the chronic damage. Mom had a heart attack and died in the hospital a week after. Her death was not unexpected as the last ten years of her life were one crisis after another but the end was still sudden. The cardiologist told us her heart was very damaged and that if she ever had a heat attack, she wouldn't recover. He was correct. 

DW: Were people supportive of your grief ? 

TP: I was the person who was calm and took care of arrangements and my sister, brothers, siblings, grandchildren, etc. I didn't cry. I told all of them and myself that I guessed I had seen her suffer so long that I was glad it was over. Mother was very religious and everyone seemed certain that she was in a better place. I had no real surety of that, but the whole script seemed to bring enough comfort I was glad to murmur consent. I was essentially numb. That's how I deal with pain. 

DW:  Is there anything you wish you had done differently with this person? 

TP: I don't think so. My mother and I experienced events and viewed the universe so differently. I loved her, but we had a difficult relationship. I was her caretaker financially and physically from the time I was a child really. Mother was bipolar so she was loving one minute, abusive the next. My one real regret was that it took so long to get her mental illness diagnosed that she only had a couple of years on the proper medication. 

DW: Was she buried or cremated? 

TP: Mother was buried alongside my father who died when I was two. They, three of my four bothers, and my sister( who is still here, happily) and her late husband all are or will be buried in an ugly little cemetery in an ugly little west Texas town. I shall not be joining them. 

DW:  Did you learn anything about the grieving process you'd like to share? 

TP: Only that I grieve more for the relationship I wish I had with her more than the one we had. One day six weeks after her funeral, I was driving home from work in five o'clock traffic and was suddenly so overwhelmed by her death that I had to pull off the highway because I was crying uncontrollably. I don't know how long, but a driver had pulled over in front of me and walked back to the car to see if I was okay, I told her my mother had died. She leaned in the window and hugged me, at which point I stopped crying. I don't feel I've grieved yet perhaps. This was in 1990-91. 

DW: Were any songs played at the memorial service that were important to the person? 

TP: I know the hymns that were played and remember watching everyone around me crying, but I don't think I heard the music at all.

One Night in Sixes

I met Tex Thompson at the DFW Writers' Workshop a few years back.  In the years I've known her, she has written a blog post for this here blog, she attempted to enlighten my daughter about the awesomeness of math and she is one of the wittiest attendees at my "Death Over Dinner" parties. Not only is she super nice and fun to be around, she is like the smartest person I've ever met. I've heard a lot of critiques during workshop and she is one of the few people who can always find something nice or encouraging to say about someone's writing.  Plus, she can pinpoint what isn't working and deliver it in such a way that you don't feel like your innards are going to spill forth onto the table.

In other words, she's totally kick ass.  And today, her first book has just been released!  It has been such a thrill to witness the whole process for her, from finding an agent to finally landing a book contract. And now her baby is here and look how cool it is!

You can check it out on Amazon, or better yet, go to your favorite brick and mortar bookstore and get it there.  She will be at the Barnes and Noble in lovely Hurst, TX this Saturday at 3pm.  

She is also having a Twitter contest with a $50 gift card as the prize, so hop on over for the details.