This is going to be a tough one and I don't even know why I'm going to post this. But I am.

Mom & Dad had an agreement that, when they pass, neither one wants a service. The reasons are their own and, quite honestly, I'm glad. Although I feel very strongly that when the time comes we should celebrate their lives, I also have mixed feelings about the whole thing.

I've always found it strange when people close the casket then go to a room next door for sandwiches and refreshments. I find it awkward - the back slappin', "how you doin" small talk that seems to be part of every service I attend. Maybe I'm the weirdo, I don't know. I just don't feel like talking about new shoes when I've just viewed Uncle Bob. I need time to reflect, to make peace, to cry. Devilled egg just doesn't help me with that.

So it's been decided...a small gathering of us will meet at Garry Point (my favorite spot....the one in the pictures in the previous post) and do something very private. This is the park that my grandfather used to frequent every evening. Funny, I used to bump into him there a lot - it was like our little secret. Mom & Dad will have a bench dedicated to them there, like the one pictured.

Dad fished in the river here and, when Mom was paralyzed and too scared to stay home alone, he'd take her with him on the little herring skiff. It was a nightmare...he worked his ass off. She had a lawnchair and they'd stay up all night - him running back and forth between tending to the net, steering the boat and catering to Mom's needs. One reason I'm a little anti Greenpeace is that they confronted my parents and nearly swamped them one night (intentionally). They were protesting the fisherman's killing of the seals - my Dad wasn't involved in that. He was just trying to make a living and, despite the fact that he informed them that he had his handicapped wife on board with him (just the two of them), they became very aggressive and confrontational anyways. They weren't the "civilized" kind of protesters - they were the radicals you see who often care little about the cause but are just out to raise shit. Scared the hell out of Mom. Well, here I am, sidetracked already. But being at this spot floods my memory with things.

Mom came very close to drowning here when she was young. She learned to float on her back about two miles up river when the current got ahold of her. It carried her down the river, past the canneries and she was all but gone until a worker on the dock jumped in and got her to shore. It all happened over the span of a couple of miles that's right along my biking route - I'll take pictures sometime. Miraculous that she survived. And she never dared to swim after that. Ever.

So back to my original topic, of how the family will react when they learn of "no service". I know this seems selfish and petty, but it's important to us that we do things as we always have...on our own. And, in all honesty, nobody in the family gave a flying fuck when we were down and out. Noone bothered with Mom for the past 20 years when she was paralyzed - her sister drove past the house a couple of times a week on her way out for lunch, yet she never offered to take Mom along. Too much work, lugging the wheelchair out and helping her with simple tasks. Her brother's a fucking big shot in Calgary who hasn't bothered at all. Although he comes out here, she's not on his to do list anymore. Since Dad stopped giving him freebies. I know I sound bitter...I am. I've accepted that people don't know how to deal with Mom's situation, but they might've at least tried. I didn't know how to deal with it either...but I've winged it as I've gone along. And it's been a lonely journey...some moral support (mostly for Mom's sake) would've been nice. But, people are busy - you know.

So I know they'll all be shocked when the time comes. They'll flock here with the intention of gathering to grieve and basically bullshit about how much they cared. Reality is, I can count on one hand the people that showed they cared. And they'll be at that private little service that we do.

I guess this is making me a bitter, angry person, I feel it. Mom's near the end...each night rips my heart out. Tonight was a doozie. Actually, every night is. She hasn't eaten in days. She's hallucinating and making little to no sense. And we got the bomb dropped this afternoon...Dad's in more trouble than we thought. His aneurysm has bulged beyond the danger zone and tomorrow he goes in to get the ball rolling on things...more surgery. It's the 50/50 kind...I know it all too well. Mom had it twenty years ago and it's what caused her stroke and subsequent paralysis.

And how are you supposed to react when your dying mother says "will you come with me when I die? I'm scared". I'm fucking mad at the world tonight. May as well call this Deb's depression blog of shit because that's what it is. But, in just typing the words it releases it and I can start to let it to. For tonight. Watching someone slowly, painfully die is about the worst thing that could happen. Especially when there's nothing you can do to help them. This is a roller coaster ride and I'm sorry to subject you all to it. I try each day to do things to pull out of it, but sometimes it just consumes me. This would be one of those times.

Fuck I've had a shitty day.

A glass of wine is calling me.