Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Exhaustion
Yes. Stories. Tears. Laughter.
Yes, cleansed and I had forgotten how wearying that can be.
We took the bear with us to the service because it was memorablia. He was buckled in next to Owen.
People who had been Colin's friends since the sixties.
Sixties.
How many of you were alive then?
Oldest man to speak:
"So Colin told us his doctor said, 'Colin, it's cancer. I can give you a prescription for medical marijuana.' Colin said, 'I'm way ahead of you, Doc.'"
There was a theme. It was...joy. And women. And not trying to hide who you are.
Okay. That's more than one theme.
Enough.
I'm so tired you can't believe it. I made Mr. Moon and me comfort food tonight- baked egg rolls and hot and sour soup. We cried a lot. We held each other.
Done. The dishes are done. So am I.
Owen can "potato." He says, "Bi-day."
Why potato? Who knows?
I have to sleep now. I might take an Ativan because I don't have the energy to deal with dreams.
When I met Colin's daughter she said, "Oh, you're the crotch woman!" And she pointed with both hands to her crotch. "My father loved you."
The apple, each of his children said, doesn't fall far from the tree.
It's raining again.
Good night.
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Did you ever tell the crotch story? I must have missed it. How did you become the crotch woman?
ReplyDeleteI like how Colin told the doctor he was way ahead of him on the medical marijuana.
Memorials can be enlivening, even though they are about death and the dead one. That said, the two things together, as you say, are exhausting. Sleep well, Ms moon.
ReplyDeleteI am sorry for your pain and loss -- glad that you shared a bit of his life with him and grateful that you shared a bit of it here with us.
ReplyDeletesleep well --
Sounds like a fine memorial, full of love and laughter and tears. I'm way ahead of you, doc. Love it. I would be spent too. Sweet, sleepless dreams I wish for you. Hugs too.
ReplyDeletewv is losive. That must be how you are feeling.
sweet dreams my darling....
ReplyDeleteIt does sound as if it was what a memorial should be--stories, laughter, tears. Like an emotional enema that empties us out. Rest well, dear Ms. Moon.
ReplyDeleteAch, Mary, I hate it, the losing of people. I hope you slept and slept.
ReplyDeleteYou tell Owen potatoes are the founding food of my people :) Without them, we never would have had a famine!
I hope that my memorial service is a place where people laugh.
ReplyDeleteI suppose I won't really care, but for my loved ones, I want them to smile.
I can only imagine how exhausted you are. Rest, sweet Mary Moon.
Oh Ms. Moon, I hope you had a nice dreamless sleep. I'm glad it was a good memorial filled with stories and laughter and those necessary tears. I keep trying to figure out how to explain that it is a credit to you that you are able to bring things to life - like letting us all know Colin (especially as you did Sex Please...). And it is such a credit to Colin that he was the man he was.
ReplyDeleteHere's a little funny: http://susiebright.blogs.com/susie_brights_journal_/2011/02/susie-brights-confession-booth.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+SusieBrightsJournal+%28Susie+Bright%27s+Journal%29
ReplyDeleteI hope you slept well .
ReplyDeleteBe easy on yourself today.
Hope you got some good rest and have a peaceful, although rainy, day. When you are a good person and a good parent, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. A service with people from as far back as 50 years and lots of laughter--what a man.
ReplyDeleteOh, and it is pretty fun to say the word potato.
Hope you rested well Ms. Moon... It's still raining here.
ReplyDeleteThe crotch woman. I love it and you.
ReplyDeleteGood fucking morning.
Mama, I'm so glad it went like that. Thank god his family wasn't southern Baptists.
ReplyDeleteOwen was cracking May and I up Sunday by saying "sweet potato". We'd hand it to him and he's say "weebotada!" and then balance the raw sweet potato carefully on a small cup.
Yes, cleansed and tired.
ReplyDeleteI love the weebotada bit.
Rebecca- I have told the crotch story. It comes from when I was in a play with Colin last year and he did a dive into my crotch every performance. We brought the house down every night.
ReplyDeleteElsabeth- I did sleep well. Thanks.
Elizabeth- You're a precious.
Mel- Good word. Yes. That describes it.
rebecca- No dreams that I remember. If I had them, I hope they WERE sweet.
Syd- The word "enema" is so poetic. Thank-you, love, for bring me a smile.
Jo- I will tell him.
Nancy C- Laughter through tears. Good but so tiring.
Jill- Believe me, it is impossible to translate into words the real person Colin was. Thanks for hanging in here with me as I obsess.
Jo- I'll check it out.
deb- I'm trying.
Michele R- Exactly. And there were quite a few people there who had known Colin and loved him for forty-fifty years. That says it all.
Dianne- Raining here too, on and off.
Ms. Bastard-Beloved- No one cheers me the way you do. Good fucking morning to you, too!
DTG- Nope. I did see a Southern Baptist there but he left early. Ha! And doesn't Owen love to balance things? He's a hoot.
Stephanie- Owen is trying so hard to say real words of more than one syllable. It's so much fun to watch him.
Hahaha. I remember the crotch story. I am glad you feel cleansed, and I hope you've slept well.
ReplyDeleteAngie- I was going to describe the way this flushing works as like a toilet but I suppose I should be more ladylike and compare it to the waves. They come, they go, they come again. We all know how this works.
ReplyDeleteThere's an overwhelming feeling of love that comes out of your posts. Of all of you for Colin, of him for all of you, and for the survivors between each other. That's quite something.
ReplyDeleteLove to you, as you process and cry and think and mourn.
ReplyDelete