2 A.M. tossing and turning in bed. I have to be at work tomorrow at 8 A.M. The single sheet covering me sticks to my clammy body like celophane. Despite sweating, the air conditioning is making me simultaneously chilly. There is no in-between in the soggy humidity of summer in a swamp. Tonight, however, it is not the summer conditions to which I attribute my inability to sleep.
As I lie in bed, my mind wanders the eternal blackness that is the potential for sleep. Each new turn brings with it the lightning flash of ideas, momentarily burning the image of the landscape of thought on my mind. Mortality reigns supreme. I cannot sleep. I cannot think of anything else. I can only think of the meaning that this has for me.
My friend, Katie, has buried three friends since highschool. Each person, each life extinguished, a peer. Our tendency is to rage against life and the cruelty. But it is a tendency of fear, fear that we must face and accept our own mortality, that drives our intense response to losing a close friend. In my case, I am haunted by an image that is, possibly, as viscerally unsettling as my own mortality, my mother's mortality.
At only fifty years, Mrs. Grdina's passing has served as an imminent reminder of the cancer that my own mother has struggled to overcome. I can only imagine the emotional struggle that must be facing Brad and Mr. Grdina. As I wrestle with my sheets, disturbing the beatific slumber of my wife, I grapple with the fear that it will be the obituary of my own mother that I will read, tomorrow. I know that my mother is feeling well and that she expects to see me this weekend. I intend to see her. But how can we ever be sure that the next moment will not be the moment of judgement?
Friends may call from 4 to 8 p.m. Wednesday at Brunner Funeral Home & Cremation Service, 8466 Mentor Ave., Mentor. Interment in Mentor Cemetery.
Perhaps my mother or father will be able to visit Brad to, at the least, let him know that he and his mother are in my thoughts and prayers and that i regret being unable to attend personally. Otherwise, I'll be able to let him know when I come home.
Posted by Mendon at August 2, 2006 1:55 AMI hear you.
Posted by: Mara at August 2, 2006 4:09 AMI am so sorry Brad's mother died. I knew she had cancer. I won't be able to make calling hours ( Uncle Claude and Aunt Margaret will be here in 20 minutes), but I will send a card.
Posted by: Ma at August 2, 2006 5:32 PMWill they still be in town tomorrow?
No, they left this morning. It was a really short visit. But a good one.
Posted by: ma at August 3, 2006 11:28 AM