Sunday Bubby Sunday #8

A good friend of mine asked me recently why I hadn’t blogged about Bubby in a while. She missed reading about her “zesty” personality. I had to confess that Bubby had not been that talkative for the past few months. She was often asleep when I phoned, and when she was awake, she was not up for a chatting much. Blogging about our conversations would have been nothing more than a journal entry when all I did was tell her what we were doing each day. Not very interesting.

It’s such a shame that I hadn’t started recording our conversations earlier when Bubby was truly zesty. I’m pretty sure that the phrase “with friends like her, who needs enemies” was inspired by her. She had a sharp tongue and never hesitated before hitting below the belt. She was a loner-not interested in community of any kind and, therefore, never was very concerned about alienating anyone. My mother and my bubby are cut from the same cloth. This is why they don’t care for each other, and that’s putting it politely. She gave great phone, and I’m sorry I never documented the many hilarious calls.

Bubby passed away this morning at 3:30am Pacific Time. She was 92. The spirit of Bubby possessed our garbage disposal today. It died, too.

The doctor called me this morning at 7AM. I had to get the boys dressed. Had to make breakfast. Had to get Asher’s lunch bagged. Had to sub at the pre-school this morning. Levi required my attention. I knew this because while I was in the kitchen fixing breakfast, Levi was at the top of the stairs right outside Asher’s bedroom door yelling “MAAAAAAMAAAAAA!!!!!” Asher was still asleep, so I ran up the stairs to fetch him. I plopped him in his chair and tried to keep him entertained while I went about my morning ritual.

I called my sister mid lunch-box packing. It was a quick chat. Lots to discuss. Lots to plan. A few questions about the next few days. We are both planning to be at the funeral in Chicago.

R: Glad she waited until midnight. (Her son Joshua’s birthday was the previous day)

D: Glad I got my hair cut last weekend.

R: Should I tell the boys?

D: I think so. Here. I’ll go first. LEVI! Bubby is dead.

Levi didn’t acknowledge the information. He was too busy grating the cookie I had given him with his finger nail.

D: He doesn’t seem to be too upset. I think we’re in good shape.

My Bubby spent the last week of her life in the hospital. She had developed kidney stones and while she was in hospital, she contracted pneumonia. The doctors called me every day to tell me how she was doing. Dr. M told me that she had been very co-operative and amenable while he was on call which he understood was not her normal behaviour. I verified that she could be unhelpful at times. I knew she wasn’t well. She had lost her fight.

The day has been one of phone calls and emails. Tony at the funeral home is holding my hand over the wires. “This is my first one,” I told him. He walked me through the next few days with sensitivity and efficiency. This man is in the right business. He asked me if we should submit the obituary the day after the funeral. “She says here that she wanted her service to be PRIVATE PRIVATE PRIVATE!!” “Yes, that’s my grandmother. She didn’t care for too many people, and she was a, well, private person. We’ll put the notice in the day before just in case there is anyone around who cares to attend.”

It’s been business as usual for now. I’ll save my tears for the funeral when I have a chance to say good-bye. I have my moments of mini-break downs. I had to explain to the woman at AT&T that I had to cancel service because the customer had passed away. She was very sorry, and when she finished closing out her account said with feeling, “Have a wonnnnderful day.” I almost lost it.

Rachel told me that if I didn’t milk this with Gabriella that I was stupid. I didn’t really have to say anything. Gabriella did not need to be asked to keep the boys busy while I made phone calls, and she did not need for me to ask her for the loving hugs. I did ask for lentil soup. I love her lentil soup. She didn’t skip a beat. Like magic-lentil soup. mmmmmm. I also did tell her that the doctor told me that Bubby’s last wish was that Gabriella should put out more. I think she might have bought it.

My eye is twitching. My thumb is throbbing from the cuticle I pulled. I have mitral valve prolapse. Bubby died. She will be missed, but I’ve missed her for a long time now. We love you, Bubby!