Julia – 1921 – 2007

The last Christmas light has been taken down. Karl, the Christmas tree, is out by the curb waiting to become mulch. There is not even the hint of a sugar cookie within 50’ of the house.

Life returns to normal. But not really. Our normal has changed. This has been my 49th holiday season and one that I am very, very glad to see end.

It was as hectic as the normal season, and I fretted over what I could possibly gift to my husband, a great guy who deserves what he wants, but I could think of nothing. Except black socks. He needs new socks. Though I don’t bleach them gray anymore as I have give up using bleach for natural, non-poisonous products. But that is another conversation.

So things were going along until December 10. The nursing facility where my mother in law, Julia, was living called. They said “She is going. She has closed her eyes, and will not open them. It should not be more than a couple of days.”

I sat with her a while on Monday, and again on Tuesday. On Tuesday she no longer looked like Julia, the face changes as the fluids go haywire I guess, but her hand, as she held mine, was the same. It was Julia’s and it was the same hand I had held so many times trying to let her know that regardless of everything else in life, I would always take care of her.

So I thought I was prepared. Even driving over there, I thought ‘she has dodged so many bullets, she will be ok.’ But she wasn’t going to escape things this time.

It is not as if I did not know this day was coming. I could only think, why now? It was a selfish response. Just before the holidays and all. Julia died two days later, the 12th. I was just walking out the door to go see her when they called.

I wish I had moved a bit faster that morning. I would have like to be holding her hand when she finally left.

It took 5 days to get everything ready. Julia needed to be flown back to Chicago for burial next to her husband, Gene who passed March 15, 2001. I made the calls, ensured the arrangements were as they should be, arranged for our flights, hotels and rental car and we followed her in on Sunday.

Out of all those arrangements, the moment that was most difficult was when I realized for the first time, in a very long time, well over a decade, that I did not know exactly where Julia was. The funeral home had arranged for her to be picked up for the flight, but I did not know where she was. And it scared me for a moment. Because I was supposed to know.

The funeral was on Monday. No viewing, though I stopped at the funeral parlor to confirm that it was her and said good-bye. My husband, son and I helped to carry her casket into the church and we sat amongst family as they performed rites we do not adhere to, but respect that it was what she wanted.

And then we helped carry her back out, and followed the hearse to the cemetery. And said a final goodbye.

We had a tumultuous relationship that girl and I did. She did not mean to be hard on me, she just was. Two stubborn broads in one house is what it was. And I had the gaul to marry her son. I would never be fully accepted, I always new that.

But she was a good person. Raised her son with a massive amount of love and would have done anything for him. And he loved her. And I love him. So we took care of her and we are all glad that we did. Even though sometimes it was very, very hard.

Now we slowly clean things up. Realize we have to make decisions on things we have kept all these years incase “mom” wanted them. She never did, but she would ask once in awhile and I could always say with certainty that “it was in the blue bin in the storage room.” We have a lot of blue bins to go through now.

So I took care of Julia the best I could for a long time and now she is gone. So our normal has changed. And someday, if you want, I will tell you about this woman I have known for more than 20 years. She was remarkable in many ways.

And I did not get my husband new black socks for Christmas. He wouldn’t have wanted them anyway. Socks are not a good Christmas present.