“She’s Little Now”

When you lose someone close to you, there’s always a lot of work to be done.  Unfortunately, the work associated with the business surrounding death, leaves little room to grieve.

Tomorrow starts the long drawn-out process of saying goodbye to my Nana. There will be a wake in the evening, a funeral service the following morning, and a burial three days later. That’s a lot, considering that is has been nearly three days since her passing and I have yet to be alone with my thoughts.

I have surprisingly maintained my composure while talking to funeral directors, clergy, insurance agents, attorneys, credit card companies, florists and all of the other players in this incredibly complicated end-of-life game. In those moments, it is almost easy... like hitting cruise control on the highway and texting your girlfriend (which is why you should never drive with me -- just saying). This is business, the little voice inside my head says, and emotion will only complicate things.

Throughout the work at hand, there has been an endless barrage of questions from friends and relatives, as well as their heartfelt condolences. Those have not been as easy for me, especially when they share a story or a cheerful reminder of better times.

“Now she’s in heaven with that stupid little dog that used to shit all over the floor...”

“I'll remember her homemade ice pops from Kool Aid, and her putting up with our attempts at directing plays or acting like DJs...”

“She loved you very much and was very proud of you. I know that you will continue to make her proud and carry on the family legacy of wit and wonderfulness...”

These words make me laugh... they bring me calm... they remind me of happier days... and then I find a place to be alone, for a moment, and I secretly cry.

In fact, in those rare moments that I have found myself alone, I break down, seemingly for no reason... a song comes on the radio... a memory pops into my head... and I cry and cry until I have to put on that other face and pretend its all okay.

There’s still a lot more work to be done... more people to see... more stories to hear... and I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t want this to be over. I am looking forward to Monday morning, when I will say my final goodbye to the most important woman in my life, and I can turn and walk away from everyone, and find a nice comfortable place to cry until I can’t cry anymore.    
And the worst part of all of this is that every time I faced a great challenge like this one, I would simply pick up the phone and bitch to Nana, (Of course, she never offered any real advice, she’d just say things like, “Well, be thankful you HAVE a job,” or “At least its not cancer!” ) and somehow I would hang up the phone and feel just a little bit better... but, sadly, that’s no longer an option.

An old friend said something to me today that brought me great comfort.

He said, "Life on earth is a blink of your eye, compared to eternity in heaven."

I just know that Nana’s in heaven right now. In fact, I know that she’s joined the ranks of the angels.

How do I know?

D-man told me.

“Do you understand what’s going on,” I asked D-man on Sunday afternoon.

“Uh-huh,” he replied.

“Remember when your ‘Uncle P’ passed away baby?”

“Uh-huh...”

“Well Nana has passed away.”

“No she didn’t,” he said. “She just got hurt.”

“No sweetie,” I said, choking back tears. “She passed honey. She’s in heaven with the angels now.”

“Yeah,” he said. “She’s little now.”

“Little?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What do you mean baby?”

“She’s LITTLE,” he demanded. “All angels are little.”

“So Nana’s an angel now?”

“Uh-huh and she’s little.”

“Why is she little honey?”

“So she can be right here,” he said, confidently pointing to his shoulder.

Yeah, she’s little now...