Just like the way she lived her life, the events surrounding her dying, death and mourning were filled with humor. This is the fourth and final installment, enjoy!
When Nana died, we had a little memorial in Northern California for family and close friends. It was strange. The priest showed up at the house, drunk. He also thought he was coming to the house for a "Blessing of the Home", so he brought the wrong book and had to have his assistant drive him back to the rectory to get the right book. He came back to the house, said some prayers and everyone shared a story. It was a little tense. My cousin's Larry and Elsie (Nana's nephew and niece from Tampa) were mad at my Aunt Marian and her husband. Aunt Marian was mad at Uncle John. Uncle John was mad at my Mom. My mom was mad at everyone. I was the youngest one there, but the only one mature enough to get along with the whole family. A stressful time was made even more so because I was playing referee for all of my idiotic family and their petty disagreements. I was glad when we made it through lunch without a family brawl.
After lunch, we were all sitting out in the backyard chatting. My Nana's cousin, Elmira, noticed that both of my dogs were wearing St. Francis medals. She asked me if I had taken them to church for the "Blessing of the Beasts" on the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi. I told her that Cosmo, my Jack Russell Terrier, did not get along well with other dogs, so I had never taken them. She immediately went to Father Tim and asked him if he could bless the dogs. I took him outside and had the dogs sit. He mumbled a blessing and sprinkled Holy Water on Candy, my yellow lab. She sat there very sweetly and took it all in. Then he went to Cosmo. As he started flinging the Holy Water on him, Cosmo started jumping up and biting at the drops of water. Father Tim looked at me and said in his drunken Irish brogue, "I think that little one is going to need more than a sprinkle of Holy Water!"
Elmira's husband, Bob had a bad back. As the afternoon wore on, he started complaining about it. I sat him in a chair with a heated back massager thingy, hoping to give him some relief. He promptly fell asleep in it. Elmira woke him when it was time to leave. We were all in front of the house saying our goodbyes when, Bob (who is hard of hearing) YELLED; "Michele, I turned off your vibrator when I woke up!" Bob and Elmira didn't really get it, they are in their 80's and very devout/naive... but the rest of family burst into laughter. My neighbors looked at me funny for the next couple of days.
A month later we had a funeral mass and burial service in Southern California. Nana had been cremated, but she wanted to be buried between her husband and mother. My stupid relatives were still not getting along, so it was up to me to organize the whole deal and mediate between all of them. Nana had left instructions on how she wanted the funeral to go, she had picked scripture and songs for the funeral mass. All I really had to do was plan the wake and get someone to do the eulogy. No one wanted to do the eulogy, so it was left up to me. I spent days writing and re-writing it, by the day of the funeral I was ready, but nervous. It went fine, my legs were shaking so much...I was glad the podium was there to hide them.
My family had all sat apart in their separate camps, glaring at each other from time to time. I hoped they would behave themselves at the wake.
As I sat in the church, worrying about the potential for a full Jerry-Springer-type brawl, some of Nana's friends from Catholic Daughters came up to me. They were all very sweet little old ladies. They told me how much their friendship with Nana meant to them, they told me that I did a wonderful job with the eulogy, then one little old lady came up to me and as she hugged me she said, very seriously; "You know, now that Ferne has passed, you are the only sane one left in the Family."
I looked around at my family, still glaring............and realized she was probably right.
This is me, my Mom and my Nana.We knew Nana didn't have much time left when we visited her in Florida, so we wanted to get our portrait taken. Unfortunately, the only place available was Glamour Shots. They gave me a 'That Girl' flip, they had no idea what to do with my mom's frog fur hair, but Nana looked beautiful.Just like the way she lived her life, the events surrounding her dying, death and mourning were filled with humor. This is the third installment, enjoy!
The Duties of Mourning, September 2000
When Nana had come back out to California in the spring of 2000, it was supposed to be just a visit. She had planned on returning to Tampa. She left most of her stuff there. Her nephew Larry owned a shipping company, so he went back to Tampa, threw all of her stuff into a crate and shipped it to MY house. And there it sat, for weeks. I just couldn't get myself to go through it. Finally, one day my mom came over and we opened the crate.
We made 3 piles: go in the garbage, go to charity and keep. At first it was pretty easy, we just went through and started doing a quick sort. Most of her clothes went to charity, most of her toiletries/medications went into the garbage. You know how your mom always told you to wear clean underwear when you leave the house in case you get into an accident? I am telling you now, clean up your shit in your house.....you might die and your family will have to go through it. I spent hours going through all of Nana's prayer cards, little notebooks with the beginning of a joke written down and the punchline written in bold (she was never good at remembering jokes). She had tons of Kleenex. She had about 3 dozen sets of Rosary Beads and about 20 little pamphlets on how to pray the Rosary. She owned 3 shoe boxes full of hankies, and 2 shoe boxes of scarves. She had every kind of angel lapel pin and heart shaped earring known to man. I found her thong underwear. She had Mardi Gras beads with little penises on them. She had over 15 decks of cards. She had a lipstick in the shape of a penis. She had 5 shoe boxes full of stationary and greeting cards. She had about eight lists with everyone's birthday, wedding anniversary, date of divorce, date of death....I think she was afraid of sending a dead person a birthday card or a divorced couple an anniversary card. I had sorted through almost everything when found a white box about 2 inches wide and 10 inches tall. Inside was another box and in that box, some sort of plastic mold. I couldn't tell what the mold was, because it was filled with over 15 sets of glow in the dark plastic Rosary beads.
After removing all of the beads, this is what I found
Apparently, she was using this to make ice for her Catholic Daughter's Bridge Club!
Just like the way she lived her life, the events surrounding her dying, death and mourning were filled with humor. This is the second installment, enjoy!
DEATH July 12, 2000
On the day that Nana died, I had to work and my mom had a doctor's appointment. While Nana could still get up and around, she couldn't be left home alone, in case she needed something. My Uncle John went to stay with her. Uncle John is a bad ass.
He gave my Nana and Grandpa a hard time when he was growing up. He had run-ins with the law, spent sometime in jail and was finally straightening his life out. I imagine he was regretting all the years that he missed out on with his mother.He had been too busy with drugs and friends and mischief. Because of that, he was having a hard time dealing with the fact that she was dying. He kept saying that the doctors were "full of shit" and that she would be fine. My mom was hoping that the little bit of alone time he spent with her would help him accept the inevitable. She left the two of them alone and went to her appointment.
He was sitting at her bedside and they were talking. At one point Nana said to him "John, you were a pain in my ass coming into the world (he weighed almost 13 pounds when she gave birth to him) and you are still are a pain in my ass today. But I love you." She then closed her eyes, went to sleep and died. It was the best thing she could have said to him.
This is my Nana. Just like the way she lived her life, the events surrounding her dying, death and mourning were filled with humor. This is the first installment, enjoy!
Part One: DYING July 11, 2000
In the summer of 2000, my Nana had enough. Although she had never smoked a day in her life, or let anyone smoke around her for that matter, she had End Stage Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease. She had been on supplemental oxygen for several years and the stress of being poorly oxygenated had worn her heart out. She was living with my mother and Kaiser had initiated Hospice care for her. She was fine with it, she was ready to go.
One day, I went over to help my mom bathe her. We put a chair in the bathtub, got Nana in and cleaned her up. I washed her hair and when she got out of the tub, I rubbed her back with her favorite lotion. Into a clean nightgown and Nana was ready for a nap. While she napped, I visited with my mom and told her about the date I had been on the night before.
A little while later, Nana woke up. She asked me to help her with her breathing treatment. I set up her nebulizer and sat her on the end of the bed. While she breathed-in the medicine that would make it easier for her to breathe, I gave her a pedicure. After that, I sat behind her on the bed with my legs on either side of her and gently pounded on her back to work up any gunk that was in her lungs.
While I was doing this, Nana was checking out my feet. She finally asked me, "Michele, do your feet hurt?" I said, "No, why?" She replied, "Well I am looking at your toes and they are so red. It looks like they are sore." I then said, "Nana, I am a redhead and it is over 100 degrees outside. My skin turns red when I am hot." A 78-year-old woman should never utter what she said next; " I bet your pussy is really red too!" I nearly died. I screamed "Nana!" so loud, my mom thought she was dying and ran into the room. She found Nana and I on the bed in tears. I was crying, Nana was coughing and laughing. Neither of us could talk. My mom yells, "What is the matter?" In between laughs I tell her, "Nana, ha, said, ha, that, ha ha, my, ha, my p-p-p-p-PUSSY, is, is is, red!"
My mom had no idea what I was talking about and still didn't understand what was going on. By this time I am on the floor crying with laugher, I couldn't stop. My mom is freaking out, Nana is still laughing and coughing, the dogs have come in the room and are running around trying to figure out what is going on, it was a circus. Finally, Nana calmed down and said to my mom "Joan, you daughter is a real fire crotch!" then Nana and I started to howl with laughter. My mom just turned around and left room muttering, "You two are crazy!" That was the last time I saw my Nana alive.
So, It was like 1988 or something and my aunt was getting married. My mom and I went down to Southern California to help with the pre-wedding prep and of course, attend the wedding. The pre-wedding stuff went as expected for the most part. My aunt's friends took her to Chippendale's for her bachelorette party. She got really drunk and barfed in Denny's. She then got locked out of the house and woke my Nana (her mother) up by trying to climb the stone fence in her mini skirt at 3am. For the day of the wedding, I had been assigned to the guest book. I was pissed, because it is my opinion that you assign the guest book to the relative your mother wants you to have in the wedding, but you can't stand them, so you give them guest book duty. I refused guest book duty. This made my aunt a bit pissed at me. I knew she had given me that assignment because she didn't like my pink streaks in my hair, my multiple ear piercings, my completely black wardrobe or my combat boots. She found some other annoying relative to do it. By the rehearsal dinner, she wasn't mad at me anymore.
When the day of the wedding finally arrived, everyone was wound up. As my aunt was stepping into her wedding gown, my mom, queen of the inappropriate comments, said "Gee, you have been eating a lot this week. I hope you still fit in your dress." I heard one of the bridesmaids saying, "She says she is still a virgin. I don't believe her. I think she is pregnant." The person I was most shocked by was my Nana. She was really nervous. I made her a mimosa and she seemed to calm down.
The wedding seemed to be going smooth. Everyone made it down the aisle, the music went off without a hitch, and it seemed fine. But it was a Catholic wedding so it was long. While kneeling during part of the ceremony, my aunt fainted. It wasn't that dramatic, she just slumped over on the groom. The priest had the altar boys get her some water and a chair and the wedding went on. Unfortunately, Nana thought the fainting spell was HYSTERICAL. She started giggling. She kept on giggling. She was trying to be quiet about it, but it wasn't working. Her giggling made my mom start to giggle. The two of them were shaking and crying, they were giggling so hard. I started to worry. Both of them had a history of getting the giggles and then peeing their pants. I was really concerned that both of them would pee in their "wedding outfits" and end up at the reception in their housecoats. While I was worrying about potential urinary incontinence, other people started to notice the two of them cracking up. An old lady sitting behind me kept hitting me on the shoulder and telling me to get my mother and grandmother to control herself. Just then, the ring bearer started to turn green. He went running up the isle and puked in the vestibule of the church. That was all it took. My mother and my grandmother lost it. What were quiet giggles turned into loud laughter that echoed through the church. The wedding stopped while someone went to tend to the ring bearer. Someone got a mop and bucket and cleaned up the barf. All the time, my Nana and mom were laughing hysterically. My aunt shot me a dirty look. Apparently, it was my fault that someone had drugged and liquored up her mother. I tried to get the two of them to be quiet, but the more I told them to behave the harder they laughed. They eventually shut up and the wedding went on.
At the reception, things seemed okay. But Nana kept drinking and she kept getting louder and LOUDER. At one point she started yelling out requests to the DJ. Most of them seemed appropriate for a woman of her age. "Glenn Miller!" she yelled to the DJ. He played "In the Mood". "Rock Around The Clock!" she hollered. The DJ played Bill Haley and the Comets. She was up and dancing with any man, woman or child who would join her. It was quite entertaining and the DJ was really sweet to my Nana. I knew it was time to take Nana home when I walked by and heard her say to the DJ; "Play that Pump it song" The DJ had no idea what she was talking about. She said you know, that 'Oh, baby baby, pump it real good' song!" He looked like he was ready to die. Here was this 70-something woman, gyrating her hips and yelling, "pump it!" over and over and getting progressively louder. I figured I would help the guy out. I went up to him and said; " I think she means Push It by Salt n Pepa". The DJ was shocked that Nana was a hip-hop fan, but he played her song anyway.
Nana danced the whole afternoon and then finally passed out next to the cake table. I took her home and tucked her in. The next day we figured out what had happened. My mom had slipped Nana a Valium that morning and everyone kept filling up her mimosa glass. We really should have talked to each other before doping up the mother of the bride!
My Nana loved to Jitterbug. She had a regular dancing partner named Johnny, and they would go out dancing on a regular basis. Although she never said it, I think Johnny was Nana's beau. The place they went dancing also served food. Nana would always order a BBQ beef sandwich and a glass of cold buttermilk.
One day, Nana was in town and saw the waitress from the dancing place. The started talking and the waitress mentioned that the previous night, she had seen Johnny dancing with another girl. Nana was very upset. She went home and called her friend a couple of towns away. She told her what had happened. Her friend said, " I know what we will do, we will find you another dance partner!". Nana agreed and the next Saturday night, she and her friend were going on a double date. When Nana asked her friend about her blind date, all her friend would say is that he was a buddy of her boyfriend and his name was Chuck.
Saturday came and Nana was nervous. She hadn't cancelled her date with Johnny, she wanted to stand him up. But Chuck and the other couple were late picking her up. Finally, they arrived and off they went for a night on the town. Chuck was very polite, but a little quiet. Nana and Chuck were sitting at their table and had just finished their BBQ sandwiches. Nana had ordered her usual buttermilk, Chuck had ordered a beer. The other couple got up to dance and left Nana and Chuck alone. Chuck asked Nana if she wanted a beer, she said she didn't drink alcohol. Nana asked Chuck if he danced, he said no. Chuck asked Ferne if she smoked, she said no. Nana asked Chuck what he liked to do for fun, he said drink and smoke. Their first date did not go well. Why they ever went on a second date, is beyond me........
Several months later, Nana was in the kitchen with her mother and father having breakfast. They heard a knock on the door. Nana, still in her robe and slippers, answered the door. It was Chuck, the young man she had been dating. He looked very serious. She took him into the living room and they sat down on the love seat. His hands were shaking and he was starting to perspire. He looked into Nana's eyes and said;
"Ferne, I love you. I want to marry you."
He then took out a ring and put it on her finger.
She looked at it for a minute and replied;
"Chuck, I will marry you. But that is the ugliest ring I have ever seen in my life and I wouldn't be caught dead wearing it."
Chuck smirked and said;
"Fine, then get dressed. We will go to Columbus and you can pick out the ring that you want, but I am only spending $200.00"
They were married a few weeks later. They stayed married for 44 years until Chuck passed away. Nana used to tell that story over and over again. I was the only one in the family that didn't roll their eyes when she told the story, so about a year before she died, Nana gave me the ring she picked out in Columbus. I wear it every day and think of her.
We have always been a "Dog" family. As long as I can remember, almost everyone in my family has had at least one dog in their home. Much to the chagrin of my Grandpa, Chuck, the dogs were treated as family members. Grandpa would bring a dog home, tell us it was a hunting dog and we were to keep away from it. Well, as soon as he would leave the house. The dog came in and was spoiled.
My Nana, Ferne, my mom and her sister, Marian, and I could not resist. To this day I don't really understand the concept of an "outside" dog, I actually find it a little mean. Dogs are pack animals; they want to be with their pack, even if the other members are humans. The women in the family "ruined" a: German Shorthaired Pointer, an Irish Setter and a Springer Spaniel. Finally, Grandpa gave up and stopped bringing home hunting dogs.
My grandparent's house was without a dog for a few years. Around my 6th birthday, my uncle brought home a male Springer Spaniel. We named him "Tigger". He was from champion lineage, but as a result of irresponsible in breeding, he had problems. Bad ears that was prone to infections and too many "jowls". To add insult to injury, he was a little dimwitted. We loved him nonetheless and he was welcomed into "our" pack.
When Tigger was about 6 months old, my Aunt saw a man beating his dog. She started yelling at the man to stop. He was pissed because the dog had eaten his peppers in his garden. Aunt Marian said if he did not stop, she was going to report him. He said; "If you care so much about this dog, you take her!" She did. That is how we got our second Springer Spaniel, Daisy May.
Grandpa had not been thrilled with Tigger's arrival. When Daisy May showed up, he almost blew a gasket. He started bitching about how much money it would cost him to feed the dogs, the cost of the grooming, the cost of the vet bills, etc. He said he wasn't going to pay for any of it, "You three need to get a God-damned job to pay for those God-damned dogs. I am not gonna pay for a God-damned cent!" I knew he was all talk, but over the next few months, he kept repeating the same thing, over and over again.
Eventually, Nana had enough of his bellowing, so she told him; "Chuck, you be quiet. I am taking the dogs for a walk each night and while I am walking, I collect cans. I will pay for the dogs with the money I get for the cans." My Aunt Marian and I thought Grandpa would say he didn't want his wife walking around town collecting cans like a hobo, but he didn't. Both were stubborn and neither would give in.
So every night, after the 11 o'clock news, Nana would walk her dogs and collect cans. I would go with her most of the time. I would wear my roller skates and skate along side her. We would head out on Orange Avenue, cross Sierra Blvd, stop at City Hall so the dogs could swim in the fountain and I could practice my groovy roller disco moves on the smooth cement. Then turn on Palmetto, take it down to Arrow Blvd and maybe stop at the Post Office if we needed to mail some letters, then back onto Nuevo Avenue. We had a routine, unless the dogs needed a shorter or longer walk.
Nana was getting a bit obsessive with her can collecting. She would even go through garbage cans looking for cans. It was embarrassing. But neither Nana nor Grandpa would budge.
Until one morning...
My Aunt Marian woke up late for school, so Nana had to give her a ride. Marian was so late, that Nana had to drive her wearing her housecoat and slippers. On the way to FoHi, Nana saw a can in the middle of the road. Marian saw the look in Nana's eyes and said "Don't you dare! You will make me really late!" So Nana kept on going and dropped Marian off in the nick of time.
On the way home, she saw the can. Since she wasn't dressed, she didn't want to get out of the car. So she drove up slowly along side the can, opened her car door and leaned down to pick up the can. When she did this, her foot slipped off the gas pedal, the car started rolling forward, Nana fell out of the car and the car's back tires rolled over her right ankle before heading down Nuevo Avenue without her.
Luckily, Dr. Goldstein, our family doctor, was just coming to work. He saw Nana lying in the middle of the road and rescued her. A little later, Grandpa was coming home and he noticed a fuzzy pink slipper in the middle of the road. Then he noticed that Nana's car was on the side of the road. He went home to see what was going on...no one was home. Nana's coffee still sat at the kitchen table, the paper open. He was worried. Just then, the phone rang. It was the doctor, he told Grandpa that Nana was okay, and she had just sprained her ankle. Grandpa asked how, the doctor told him about the can. Then, Dr. Goldstein said; "You know Chuck, if money is tight, I know a few people who are looking to remodel. I could probably throw a few jobs your way."
Grandpa never gave Nana a hard time about the cost of dog ownership again.
This week my Nana would have celebrated her 86th birthday.
When she was 71, she moved in with her nephew, Larry and his wife, Elsie, in Tampa, Florida. They spoiled her rotten. She literally had her own "wing" of the house, which was set right on Tampa Bay. They gave her a Jaguar to drive. She had an allowance. She had the best medical care she had ever had in her entire life. They bought her a laptop and had someone come to the house to teach her how to surf the net and use email. She was having a blast.
Larry and Elsie wouldn't let Nana do anything. They had a maid; they had a gardener, a pool guy, and a dog walker/groomer. They sent their laundry out and had their groceries delivered. Nana couldn't stand it! She finally convinced Larry and Elsie to let her do a few things around the house. She was allowed to do some "light" grocery shopping and a "little" laundry.
On day, Nana was washing her and Elsie's "delicates". She hadn't really paid much attention to them when they went into the washer but when they came out, she noticed something "funny" about some of Elsie's underwear. When Elsie came home from work, Nana asked her what kind of underwear they were.
Elsie calmly replied; "Aunt Ferne, those are thong underwear."
Nana raised her eyebrows and said; "What are thongs?"
Elsie explained the engineering of the thong panty as well as it's benefits; "They are great. You don't have a panty line when you wear slacks or skirts! You don't have to wear pantyhose and that is really nice in this Florida humidity."
Nana thought about it for a minutes and said; "Well, I guess that makes sense. I have been pulling my panties out of my ass for 70 years. Now I can just wear ones that are meant to be there and keep cool in the process!"
The next day, Elsie went to one of the posh shops in Tampa and bought Nana a few pair of designer thong underwear.
From then on, Nana wore her thong panties to Mass every Sunday.
