Written Feb. 16:
Saturday, February 12, was the first anniversary of Mom's death. It seems impossible to believe that it has been a whole year already.
The last few weeks have been difficult for me. Knowing the anniversary was so near, my emotions--all of them--have been right at the surface. It's hard to maintain a steady course when the waves are so constantly roiling.
When Mom died, there was the relief that now she would be at peace, and she no longer had to suffer. There were all the details of the death to handle, from getting the death certificate signed, to notifying family and friends, planning the memorial service, settling the estate, and all the other countless little things that needed attending to. There was adapting to life without her, without having to care for her, to arrange to have someone at home with her at all times, to dealing with (often fighting with) the health professionals and caregivers, and trying to figure out what is best for someone who could no longer communicate. Missing her was not immediate.
But now I miss her. As I continue to recover/uncover all of her, and not just who she was for the last few years as the Alzheimer's slowly robbed her of more and more of her functionality and her self, I miss that whole self more and more.
March 6:
I never finished that post, and now, today it is the one-year anniversary of Mom's memorial service. (On a side note, it is also the one-year anniversary of my friend Shelly's 52nd and final birthday party, the one I couldn't attend because of the service. Shelly died of pancreatic cancer in June). I have read in a couple of different places that it is the leading up to the first anniversary that is more difficult than the anniversary itself. That has certainly been true in my case. It seems that roiling emotions just relaxed into calm waters on the actual day of the anniversary.
Jeanne and I (and Cleo, the wonder dog) drove to Green Bay that day. It was the Saturday after the Packers won Super Bowl XLV, so of course our first stop was at the Packers Pro Shop at Lambeau Field. Someone asked what that had to do with remembering Mom. She and Dad had season tickets to the Packers games for all the years they lived in Green Bay. Mom preferred watching on TV, so when my brothers got older, they often went with Dad instead. Now they have inherited the tickets. Mom would sometimes tell me how when they first moved to GB, the games were still being played at the Green Bay East High School field. All four of us kids graduated from East. Cheering for the Packers was something Mom could still do even after watching most other TV shows became meaningless for her. Our visit to the Pro Shop may have been motivated by self-interest, but it's not like there are no connections to the Packers in my memories of Mom.
After the Pro Shop, we drove to the cemetery. The flat headstones were all covered with snow, so we trudged around in the vicinity of the grave, but under the snow was a layer of ice, so we couldn't dig through to the headstone itself. That was no big surprise, and it was okay. I don't need to see the marker to know it's there.
Then we drove to the nearby McDonalds to use the restrooms, and saw Kaap's Fine Candies next door. I won't go into the long history of Kaap's in GB, but will say that it was an old German restaurant, with a bakery and candy shop. Everything they made was out of this world. Otto Kaap is long gone, as is the restaurant with its dark wood interior on Washington Street, but the candy shop survives on Webster Avenue. Jeanne and I had to stop, and we picked out a pound of the best dark chocolate candy I've had in a very long time. And I eat a lot of dark chocolate! Even though I'd never been in this store location before, just being in a store called Kaap's, with pictures of the old restaurant, and the familiar candy boxes, brought a lot of memories back.
Positive memories (except for the bedevilment of knowing I may never again have a cheesecake like Kaap's used to make; that recipe was not saved when the original restaurant closed, and I've never seen a cheesecake like that--tall and light--again. What a loss!).
By the time we left Kaap's, it was snowing and getting dark, so instead of dinner at Titletown Brewery (a restaurant Mom was pleased to introduce us to), we drove home. All day long, I felt so calm, even peaceful, as cliche as that sounds. It was nothing like the emotional weeks leading up to this first anniversary. Go figure. The "grief book" was right on target about this.
And yet, it took me three weeks to write this. Ah, I'm sure it's just because I've been busy.
