The Passing of Life

“I don’t want to start any blasphemous rumors, but I think that God has a sick sense of humor. And when I die, I expect to find him laughing.”
Depeche Mode

I distinctly remember a few events during my senior year in high school. I had discovered hard-core surfing the year before with my sister, and we developed close kindred in the Wahines on Waves women’s surfing club. I started dating a fellow surfer who attended school in Pennsylvania. On the first day of classes I returned my cheerleading uniform in a not-so-ladylike-way. I had bluntly told the squad that I preferred the water and my part-time job as my after school activites instead of the football games (which my new ex-boyfriend Parish played tackle) and lame parties I had been required by the squad to attend. Needless to say, I was not a popular person while headbutting the “in crowd” beforehand and would never be after that incident.

The other key events were the funerals I had to attend: Parish’s father died from a stroke, my girlfriend’s father passed away after fighting liver cancer, and a family friend’s 12 year-old son was rear-ended in a drunken driven accident. Death surrounded me that year with all sorts of other attacks, and had me questioning my faith in God’s design. I decided that if Death were human, he would be a cold-hearted man without compassion towards those left behind wondering why their loved ones were chosen for life’s next stage.

In a nutshell, my maternal grandmother, Lola Getrude died on June 21st this year within hours of my arriving to see her in Burbank, CA. Our beloved matriarch was our rock. She would shrewdly referee the family chaotics while cracking on everyone with her incredible sense of humor. Lola is the reason why all of us cousins are such wisecracks, and is the reason why I dropped everything at work on that Monday to fly out to see her after so many years of promising I would come to California. It had been exactly twenty years since I visited my West Coast family, and I wanted to tell Lola in person how much I loved her, and how much I have done with her teachings.

At Saint Joseph’s Hospital

After spending the unofficial family reunion as bereavement week in California, my grief increased when I returned to Rhode Island and heard Rich describe how my favorite rabbit, Nibbles (her picture is in the blog title), was getting weaker each day. She was refusing to take her medication no matter what we did, and could barely keep herself up when she sat. She spent most of her time laying on her side, spinning around in one direction like a top to move around the room. The only consolation we had was that she still wanted her hay, veggies, and treats. But we knew it was time when she kept flinching each time we touched anywhere on her body. I selfishly used the entire month of July to say good-bye to my gorgeous princess, telling her how much I loved her through my tears. We sent her on the Rainbow Bridge’s path last week on a beautiful evening August 4th. :’(

Mommy’s Princess with her Bear