Saturday, January 26, 2019

A Small But Sweet Event

Last Monday a neighbor of mine died. She was quite old and was in hospice care and her daughters were with her when she died. One of them told me that she was holding her mother's hand when she passed on to that other realm and that she simply fell asleep and slipped away.
Wouldn't we all want that?
There was a gathering at the mother's house today. She lived catty-cornered across the street from me and I am ashamed to admit that I really did not know her well. I spent the most time with her at a few meetings of the Lloyd historical society when that was happening, quite a few years ago. The main figurehead of that group died a while back and there have been no more meetings.
Lloyd's history has continued but without ceremony or comment for the most part.
Anyway, I know this woman had been a professor and she was an interesting person. Obviously very intelligent and she seemed to be involved in a lot of good things like the Wildlife Federation and I don't even know what good deeds she did but I do believe she was a good-deed-doer.
She was also pretty. She wore her hair up in an unusual way which I admired and have no idea how to replicate. Her daughters are beautiful women and they, too, both wear their hair up and one of them has a tattoo on her neck but I could not tell what it was.
But like I said, I hardly knew Pat. She rarely came out to her front yard and I spend most of my time in my own back yard or on my back porch and we just never really made that jump from neighbor to neighbor-friend. It's not something I need dwell on. It is what it is or rather, it was what it was and strangely, one of the daughters claimed that her mother spoke so highly of us. I suppose that may have just meant that we didn't cause disturbances and we didn't let our house go completely into disrepair or let our yard turn into a bamboo jungle. 
I don't know.
But we were invited to a little gathering at her house today which was to be held from 4-6 and of course we went. "Very informal," said the beautiful daughter without a tattoo. Or at least not one on her neck. No one said anything about food but southern etiquette no more allows one to attend any event involving death without the bringing of food than it would allow one to attend in the nude.
It is just not done.
So I decided to make a quiche, having an abundance of eggs and so forth and so I did. I tried a different pastry recipe, one that is made using a food processor and at first I thought I was going to have to throw the whole thing out but eventually I managed to wrangle the dough into a rollable substance and it turned out nicely. I asked my husband, even as I was cooking red peppers and onions if anyone really likes quiche at all. Sometimes I wonder, you know? Of course if it has a ton of cheese and bacon in it it's going to be good but cardboard with a ton of cheese and bacon would be good too. I had no bacon and wasn't in the mood to grate pounds of cheese but I sauteed the onions and red peppers and cooked some spinach with sun dried, smoked tomatoes and mixed up eggs and milk and put it all together and it was pretty enough and several people told me they liked it so that worked out.
There were lots of people there including the two daughters. I could swear I'd never seen the daughter with the tattoo in my life but she claims she's known me and Glen for years. I have no doubt she's telling the truth.
Other neighbors whom I do know were there. Some of whom I see fairly frequently, some whom I hardly ever see.
We're all so busy, you know.
There was lots of good food. Homemade pimento cheese and chicken salad on croissants, spinach and artichoke dip with crackers, shrimp, chicken wings, pretty little pastries. All sorts of good things. And the house, which I had never been in, was just a charming place. It was built in 1900 and was so charming. And according to the daughter with no visible tattoo, it has good karma.
I believe that.
We neighbors gathered around and discussed how hard it is to keep our big old houses warm in cold weather and how toasty this smaller one was. One of my neighbors lived in the house I live in now when he was a boy and he told us that when he was little he would wake up and smell the wood stove in the kitchen that his grandma used to cook on. How when he smells a wood stove now he always thinks of that.

It was sweet, that gathering. Quite a few folks were there to celebrate their friend, their neighbor, their former work mate. The sisters were hospitable and friendly, their brother thanked everyone gravely for coming. We looked at pictures of their mother in her younger days and she was always pretty.

Eventually, we made our good-byes and thank-yous and I took my pie plate and we left.
A small but sweet event in Lloyd and I think that Pat would have approved. Everyone said she would have. And now that I think about it, there was not one mention of Jesus or heaven or anything else like that the whole time I was there. Which was a nice relief.

Speaking of gatherings, I am trying to organize one with my family tomorrow. I haven't seen anyone in a week and I miss them all. We're talking about going to lunch at the Hilltop because I don't think I'm up to making a meal for the nine thousand people in my immediate family but I'm sure the kitchen at the Hilltop can handle it.

That's the way it is in Lloyd tonight. It's a bit cold and I'm going to fry up some bass that Mr. Moon caught this morning, early on the frigid Wacissa. I'll make some grits and stewed tomatoes. It's nice to be back in the kitchen.
I'm taking it easy. Death will come to us all, whether we rush about or stroll through life. You see more if you stroll.
That's my thinking at the moment, anyway.

I'm just here, a part of it all, a very small bit of the history of Lloyd and an even tinier, more minuscule part of the universe. So small, in fact, that my presence has practically no meaning to anyone but those closest to me and I am glad of that. It is reassuring. Energy can neither be created or destroyed and when I die, that energy will go somewhere. That's just the truth. I cannot be bothered wondering or worrying about what form that will take. I'd just as soon have it be a nurturing for the trees or food for the fishes. Or worms. Whatever.

Until then-

Love...Ms. Moon



25 comments:

  1. One if mu neuroses is worrying about death. Mine a lot of the time, but also my family and friends quite a bit too (like daily). At the risk of weirding you out, I will tell you I have worried about your death many times over the last 9-10 years. You are a part of my daily life and bring a goodness to it. I usually wonder if your kids realize how many blog readers will be at your funeral ;) let's have that all happen far far down the road, k?

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    1. Oh, Jill! This makes me so sad that death is a worrisome thing to you! I have my own neuroses, as you well know, but I don't think that death is one of them. Having been with several people when they died, my fear of it is not great at all. But I have to say that they were beautiful experiences and I'm sure that not all deaths are. But please don't worry about my death! It will inevitably happen one day. I am certainly not the crispiest cracker in the box! If you know what I mean. Trust me when I say that I'm pretty sure that it will be fine with me when I die and that you shouldn't be too sad when it happens. Okay? Please?
      You are so precious.

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    2. I'm sorry not to be able to come over and drink coffee with you because of the great distance we live at, but at the same time, it feels right that you're where you are and I'm where I am.
      I will regret deeply not being able to bring a quiche to your funeral gathering, though. That's sad.

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    3. Yes, Jo. It does feel right. And you can make a quiche and eat it in my honor and that will be perfect! Especially if you enjoy a few martinis with it.

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  2. Mary, in truth, I cannot imagine my life without you now, so I kind of understand what Jill is saying. So let's just stroll as long as we can, okay, and keep checking in daily. That gathering sounds lovely and simple and sweet, and I am glad your neighbor had such a gentle send off by those who loved and appreciated her.

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    1. Yes, m'am! Let us stroll hand-in-hand. I adore you.

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  3. That's pretty much the way I see death too -- we just turn into something else, and we may not be aware or conscious, but who cares? This little gathering sounds perfect, small and informal and comfortable. I love that you're all so steeped in the history of your area. I don't think that's common in many more transient communities.

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    1. There were a lot of copies at the gathering of the little book that the neighbor who had died some years ago who was the head of the Lloyd historical society had written and given to me when we moved in. I've never actually been able to finish the whole thing and it gets confusing to me as to who was who. But. I have it. And that was so sweet- that there were still copies to give out.
      Death. Isn't it funny that it's so damn mysterious when each and every one of us will definitely experience it?

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  4. When I saw the title of this post I thought Hank and Rachel had gotten married!

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    1. Nope, not yet. But they ARE planning the wedding!

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  5. Stardust, we are stardust.

    Being part of an Irish family has taught me to love a good wake. And the Irish truly know how it's done.
    Not to say that your neighbours didn't a good job here as well.

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    1. We are golden...
      I've never been to an Irish wake. I would love to attend one. I have a feeling that the beverages served at this wake were not as fortitudenal (I don't think that's a word) as those served at an Irish wake. There was beer and wine and iced tea so sweet that after a sip I did not need any dessert.

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  6. Strolling to the end is a fabulous metaphor. And there is so much to take in, on the way by.

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    1. Yes! And the older I get, the more I realize I'm missing and if there is such a thing as sin, that is one of the worst.

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  7. at this point in our lives, strolling is the best way to do it. I've always been a doer, always having to be doing something but these days I find I can fritter away days, accomplishing nothing, just being. my grandgirl Jade facetimed me last night. she said she was thinking a few days earlier that she should call me. I told her I was thinking a few days earlier that I should call her! she said maybe we were thinking it at the same time. perhaps she is noticing my graying hair and my aging face.

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    1. Oh, Ellen. That's so sweet. Your grandbabies adore you and as such, I am sure that they will want to remind you of that quite frequently. And you two probably DID think of calling each other at the same time. This phenomenon does indeed happen.
      And yes, you and I somehow both internalized the message that if we weren't being productive then we were slacking off at life. Which is essentially bullshit.

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  8. I like what Sabine said, stardust. It's what we're all made up of and what we will all return to. Your neighbor sounds like she was a good woman.

    I tend to rush through my life and miss so much. Perhaps that is what aging is for, forcing those of rush headlong through life to slow down and appreciate life.

    Have a lovely gathering today with your people.

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    1. Thank you, Lily. And yes- aging does indeed enforce a certain amount of slowing down. Which is rather beautiful in its way.

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  9. Strolling through life is a good way to put it. The prospect of death makes one think a bit, doesn’t it? Now’s the time to enjoy the life we have no matter what our age is, and appreciate all the good people we meet while we’re here. You’re one of the good ones, Mary, and we appreciate you! Glad you’re feeling better.

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    1. Thank you, Ms. Still Waters. Good advice for every age. I think that very young children are naturally in that space but then we all grow out of it and begin to obsess about things like the past and the future.
      Sigh...

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  10. I love that you attended this important gathering to celebrate your neighbor Pat. Although you may have been in each others periphery........ it is an important bond still, especially in a smaller community. Lives touch each other....even if just barely. Each of our lives, great or smallish, carry meaning to some degree..... we are all one in this big universe.
    Susan M

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    1. You are exactly right, Susan. Lives DO touch each other and that is something. And we ARE all one. In every regard. I am quite certain of that.

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  11. A beautiful death, and a nice gathering. Good things.
    I love quiche. But not with peppers. Leek and mushroom, if you care to know.

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    1. Well noted, Jo! Leek and mushroom. Always a good combination.

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Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.