a coherent collection of random statements regarding God, words and tunes

Intermezzo

     I was actually planning on writing a somewhat longer, more philosophical version of an entry with this title this past week. Where I would talk about what it's been like to start a new life out here in Colorado. It's six months today since I arrived with my family (I was out here by myself for about seven weeks before that). I was going to talk about how I kind of went in thinking that you just pick yourself up whole and just learn a new culture as that person, and discovered it's been more like breaking myself into little pieces, transporting them 1,800 miles to the west, then having to figure out how to reassemble the pieces into a very different configuration.

     I was going to talk about how it was finally coming back together. Settled in to a good church, job going well (and all four of the books I was brought out specifically to work on delivered as of 2/3). I was probably even going to spend a few minutes talking about Donald Miller, and particularly how his book Through Painted Deserts was really speaking to me in this current state of life.

     The week of January 30-February 5 was a REALLY good week for me. So naturally, as a native New Jerseyan, I wondered when the other shoe would drop. I didn't have long to wait.

    Monday morning, 8:30 a.m. MST, in fact, was when I got the shaky-voiced call from my wife Marion.

     "You'd better call XX. I think he said your mother's dead."

     I called, and I confirmed it. My mom died of a heart attack -- more than likely brought on by respiratory problems of the past couple weeks.   

     I've spent the last week on automatic, trying to get everything done -- arranging the funeral from CO on Monday, flying with my family from Denver to Newark on Tuesday, the wake on Wednesday (more than 300 people), the funeral and repast Thursday, the lawyer and everything in its wake Friday, while Marion started going through the house with friends from our old church, which went into Saturday (and which they got a superhuman amount of work done in that time), while simultaneously dealing with movers, realtors, etc.

    Basically, trying to be there for everyone else -- my family, everyone who knew my mom, for her boyfriend/partner/fiancee/companion/cabana boy/guy who lives there (pick any of the above, on any given day -- they had a peculiar 18-year relationship, to say the least [I always preferred the term "symbiotic"]) who's been living with/for/off my mom and needs to find a new place, and wavers, as always, between legitimate emotion and trying to angle the situation to his advantage. Fortunately, he's not malicious -- not harmless, but more in a "oh-my-God-what-bizarre-thing-did-he-do-NOW" kinda way. I'm hoping it won't become a problem; so far, aside from some blatant mistruths about the details of my mother's death and/or their relationship that had both my daughters fit to be tied, it hasn't.

     And now I sit in the basement of my sister-in-law (and husband)'s house in New Jersey, under a foot-plus of snow, wondering if we're going to be able to get back out of Newark tomorrow morning. Then back to work Tuesday and the rest of the week. Then back out here the following week by myself, to start the probate on the will, whereafter I can legally start to open accounts, put the house on the market, etc. And presumably, living in the house/dealing with the boyfriend a few more days.

     Basically everything I can do to not dwell on the one obvious fact here. But I know that will come. I don't feel any need to rush it. If I can hold it back until I'm back with my family in Colorado at the end of the month, that'd be good.

     So suffice to say this column is on hiatus until March. (And that album #5 will be a hell of a lot more appropriate when I get back to it.) But I'm happy to talk when I can.

Posted by: burninglight at 16:40 | link | comments (2)