within this dream i see that the walls around my grandmothers dying bed are covered with these astonishing living maps of her life. there are wandering lines of streets in the neighborhood where she played, sparkling harbors and small boats letting off cotton ball sized puffs of smoke. verdant green forests stand adjacent to spacious backyards encased in halycon days wherein white washed quarter sawn oak panels reflect jovial expressions- the milk man, the boy with wagon. i am busy being entranced, hypnotized by the beauty that was her life until she sharply demands that i slip my hands into hers that are decaying with flesh unable to stay wrapped about the bones. weakly i decline but she insists so i slide my hands into her hands that are evening gloves shaped like death and together, we rip down and shred the living map and it bleeds blue water, pungent dirt, skeletonized autumn leaves and eventually cancerous matter and then it is no more and she is calm and does not seem to mind that my hands are now stuck within hers.

family coat of arms

" i neither change nor bend."

my grandfather joined the Scottish Merchant Marines and dutifully fought in the Korean war, WW2, basically any war he could participate in. he never respected my father who declared himself a conscientious objector when drafted for the Vietnam war and served instead in humanitarian aid projects for asthmatic and mentally retarded american children for three years.
my grandmother liked to say that neither of them were correct in their disdain for each other.
she said that her husband had seen things in war that deemed him hazardous and sadistic.
she bore that cruelty with a calm steadfastness that eventually turned her heart into a desolate & gelid place.

My grandfather was a man who owned a inordinate amount of inner violence, manifesting in a terror that plagued my family. when my grandmother was seven months pregnant with my mother, he took her out to dinner and excused himself to use the restroom, slipped out the front door, drove home and removed all of his belongings. when a taxi was finally sent to return her home, the only explanation given was a cryptic hateful message written on the vanity mirror in her lipstick and the absence of his belongings like the hole in a mouth where a rotten tooth once filled.

As my grandmother's illness progressed, her uncanny sense of humor understandably began to wither. one morning after a night spent with delirium, she said she felt like something was biting her. upon investigation, we discovered that she had allowed her lower dentures to escape and they had lodged themselves firmly into her backside. this was to be the last time she ever laughed.
i am honored to have inherited those teeth now, smiling upon me from inside a small, appropriately sized glass jar, placed with hope where i can see them many times a day.

Betty Virleen Haggerty July 27, 1925 to May 4, 2006

          
                                                       

                                       

 

 

Betty was brought home from the hospital in early April after being given three days to live.

We cleaned every corner,  watered the plants, fluffed the quilts, washed the linens and adorned the bedside with hydrangea, magnolia & lily in an earnest attempt to set right the basic domestic issues for the coming Event. 

We tended to every necessary discomfort- gave the injections, changed soiled sheets, massaged the aching limbs, cooled the fevered brow, & plumped the pillows in endless arrangements, all day- all night, never to her comfort or liking as her pain was insurmountable and required an implacable vigilance at all times. 

As the cancer took it's course, her focus went awry,  her syntax grew muddied and thoughts floated up and away.  Hallucinations were horrifiying but often achingly beautiful such as when she appeared to be running her fingers along silken threads that had bound her hands and knees.  She was visited by white coyotes.  She felt threatened by the sight of green jello.

As her condition grew gravid with the promise of an end, we hoped it would be swift and merciful but it was not.  During the 23 days she survived under our care,  we witnessed  a mental anguish of which common words are simply too pale to explain.  The hospice professionals that visited us confirmed that they had never seen such a difficult death; in that her unbelievable tolerance to the pain and anxiety medicine combined with unresolved life issues created superhuman levels of strength,  anger  and agony through which she would occasionally surface and we would briefly see the face of the woman we knew.   

Betty Virleen finally passed away on May 4th in her home, according to her wishes with my mother and i, her beloved dog and dear friend Rosemary at her side.  

In bearing witness to the death of my grandmother, this is what loomed obvious-

Don't let the sun set on unresolved anger.

Keep the voices of jealousy, regret and hate from yattering in your head.  

Live well, take risks, laugh often. 

 Mostly, let those you love know it. Fiercely.