The past tense, and other grammatical implications of death

One of the things that often strikes us, after someone’s death, is that we have to make a shift in how we speak of that person. It suddenly becomes an error to say “he loves popcorn.” Indpendent of the subject’s history of affinity for popcorn, there is that crossover point between loving popcorn, and having loved popcorn. Survivors undergo a transition where they find themselves using the wrong tense, and self-correcting. The realization that we have erred nags at our minds like the red ink marks of a high school English teacher urging consistency in an essay.

Then there is the loss of conjunction. For years, you go to visit Grammy and Grampa. The conjunction and serves to join two noun phrases [Grammy]_NP and [Grampa]_NP into a single noun phrase. That noun phrase can then serve in a variety of grammatical functions: subject, with nominative case ([Grammy and Grampa]_NP called), or various object positions, with accusative (Let’s visit [Grammy and Grampa]_NP), or genitive case (We need to remember to bring that book to [Grammy and Grampa]_NP‘s house.) With the absence of one referent, the conjoined noun phrase loses both the conjunction and the second noun phrase. It is a simplification of structure that belies the complicated nature of the end of almost 6 decades of married life, a conjunction of law and love and life together that are only hinted at by the word and.

With this loss of the conjunction, too, comes a shift from the plural to the singular, which of course brings its own implications for subject-verb agreement. In the present tense, English requires a different verb inflection for most third person singular subjects than for plural ones. Grammy and Grampa love it when we visit must change to Grammy loves it when we visit, with the inflectional affix -s added to the verb to reflect that singularity. This, of course, reminds us once more that there is only one of the two members of that former conjoined phrase whose actions, affinities and attributes will, by and large, be discussed using the present tense.

We mustn’t forget, though, that we can hold onto the present tense, and even the future; A whole host of constructions are available to us by keeping Grampa in object positions. I miss Grampa. It’s okay to be sad about Grampa. We will hold onto Grampa’s memory.

heat (friday foto finder)

This is the gas heater from my grandmother’s house, in the mountains of Colorado.

I took this photo in 2004. (It was years after my grandmother died, when my mother lived in the house. But in my memory, it is always my grandmother’s house.) This visit was in August, so the heat was off.

I wish I had photos of it lit, so I could show you the gas flames.

I wish I could share with you the pictures in my head of my sister and I huddled in front of the heater on cold winter mornings.

The house was an old one, with the merest nods to insulation. It had been originally built as a summer house, and then enlarged to become a year-round home. My memories of the house are warm, but in the winter most of the house was cold. The room my sister and I shared upstairs, on visits to our grandmother and for the one year when we lived with her, had a smaller gas heater in it, a wall unit that connected to our grandmother’s room next door. That heater was rarely lit, though, and mornings (especially mornings) in the bedrooms were cold. Frost-on-the-window-panes cold. I remember getting up out of the cozy double bed my sister and I shared (the bed that had once belonged to my great grandmother), climbing out from under the blankets and heavy comforter, and emerging into the chill of the bedroom. We’d rush downstairs, seeking out the relative warmth (and the house’s only bathroom). We’d sit on the floor in our nightgowns those cold dark mornings right in front of the heater, bathed in its warmth and glow. I remember leaning back against the short hallway wall the heater faced, and stretching out with icy hands or feet to warm my fingers and toes, holding them as close to the heater as I dared, my eyes transfixed by the glowing patterns of the ceramic grates and the dancing blues and oranges of the flickering gas flames.

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This rather chilly post was brought to you by this week’s prompt for friday foto finder: heat. Please go see what heat others have to share.

p.s. I just noticed that my post title read “friday foot finder,” thanks to autocorrect. This makes me giggle, but I have changed it anyhow.¹

¹ Really, this needed to be a footnote.

I heart NED

Tomorrow I head back home to Massachusetts. As always, the trip went by too fast on this end, though I feel like I’ve been away from my people too long.

I’m gathering my things together, and packing up my miscellaneous items. By far the best thing that I get to take back with me is peace of mind. My mother heard from the surgeon today, and got the run-down on the pathology report. Things look good. Really good. No cancer was found in any of the lymph nodes biopsied. While there is one last test result that will take a bit longer, all the evidence points to the cancer having been completely removed. Things are looking very good for my mother not needing to have chemo treatments.

This news came a few days behind some other very welcome news: Diego’s latest scan showed NED: No Evidence of Disease. (He had his quarterly scan on Monday morning.) Diego has now passed the one year mark off treatment, and that is something worth celebrating. What’s more, nothing beats getting to see how well he is doing with my own eyes.

The big bonus for me for this trip is that I’ve gotten in some quality time with my sister and adorable nephews, who live only a few minutes walk from my mother’s. (Unfortunately, I’ve barely gotten to see my brother-in-law, as he had to travel for work this week. He left Monday morning, on the heels of my Sunday night arrival, and then isn’t coming home till tonight, on the heels of my Saturday morning departure. I’m trying not to take it personally.)

I’ve had a really great visit with my mother, and she’s continuing to recover well. (I know that she will sleep easier after the good news on the pathology.) Since she has to take things easy and stay close to base, we’ve had time to chat and enjoy each other’s company. I’ve also gotten to meet and spend some time with some of my mother’s many wonderful friends who live nearby. It’s been moving to see how many people really care about her–there have been lots of phone calls, visits, emails and notes.

Tonight being my last night here, we had some tasty Indian food delivered for dinner. Among other topics, we talked a bit about Thanksgiving plans, and my sister remembered how she spent last Thanksgiving. I got a little choked up in my Chana Masala thinking about all the scares we’ve had these past 18 months or so, and how thankful I am that we seem to have made it through.

I saw this water-beaded purple petal on my sister’s front steps this morning. It reminds me a bit of the purple heart beads that kids get from Beads of Courage at the end of treatment.

here I come

It was a long day today, and I am pretty well wiped out. I need to get packing and go to bed, as I fly out to California in the morning.

I was born in California, and even though I’ve now lived far longer in New England than I ever lived in California, it always feels a like going home when I visit. (It certainly doesn’t hurt that my sister and then my mother moved back there, either.)

The Golden Gate Bridge is one of my personal icons, a symbol of a place and a time of my life. (Funny to realize that it was the first bridge I ever crossed, as I was born in San Francisco, but lived in Sausalito.) I remember crossing the bridge many times as a kid and teenager, and always being a little thrilled by it.

When I go out to visit these days, it’s rare that I cross that bridge. As my mother and sister live in the East Bay now, the Bay Bridge is the one we most often take. But I always seek out the Golden Gate Bridge from afar when I can, even if it’s just a glimpse from the airplane.

This is a painting of mine from back in the days when I took painting classes. It’s based on a dream I had when I was 4 years old. In the dream, my mother and sister and I were fish, and swam across the San Francisco Bay from Sausalito. It was a rather complex and very bizarre dream, involving Coit tower and an improbable system of elevators. Somehow I remembered many details of the dream up through my mid-20s when I painted this. The memories are much fainter now.

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This post was brought to you by nostalgia, a glass of red wine, and mental exhaustion after a day of doing laundry and nagging children to pick up their toys.

P.S. I just noticed that all the links from my happy song post were broken. I fixed them. Didn’t I say I need to be packing?

silver linings

If you’ve ever met my mother, you know that she is someone who is full of life and joy and possibility. She is, among other things, a fantastic artist, an adventurous traveler, a loyal friend, a loving mother/sister/grandmother/aunt, and a generally fun person to be around. She is charming, creative, passionate, entertaining and intelligent. She is also one of the most beautiful women I know.

In case it’s not clear, she means the world to me.

Tomorrow she’s going in for some pretty major surgery to remove some cancer that was found in her colon, as well as (to minimize the possibility of metastasis), a large section of the colon. The doctors believe that the cancer is most likely still in an early stage, and that this surgery will remove it completely. I am ever-so-thankful for the continuing advances of medical science, as well as for my mother’s access to excellent medical care. I know that she is in good hands, and there is every reason to believe that her quality of life will continue to be excellent, and even minimally impacted, after the surgery. Hopefully she will soon be back to her usual business of doing many (usually too many) different and exciting things.

As for me, I am glad that I am lucky enough to be able to go out to spend time with her during her recovery. I’m flying out Sunday, when she’s expected to be able to go home from the hospital, and will have a week out in California. (I am ever-so-thankful to John, who is willing and able to take on yet another week of single-parenting. He should be up for a father of the year award.) My main job will be to keep my mother from trying to jump back in too quickly to her busy life and varied commitments. I also get to have some very welcome bonus time with my sister, and my incredibly adorable nephews.

I am so glad that my mother is surrounded by friends and family who love her, whether from near or from afar. Knowing that she has the support of many has bolstered her already considerable optimism. If you would like, please join in and add your own positive thoughts. (I’m not sure she’ll have a chance to read them before the surgery, but I will happily pass them along.)

Update, 11/10/11, 2:37 EST: I just talked to my sister, and my mother is out of surgery. It sounds like things were very successful, and the cancer looked very small. Thanks so much for all your positive thoughts!

My mother in Sevilla, during our magical 2009 trip to Spain together.

she takes after me

I’m not sure I was ever that cute, but Phoebe certainly takes after me in many ways. For one, she has inherited my deep love of artichokes. (These were some photos from April. I had this idea to try using the water from steaming artichokes as an Easter egg dye. Usually the water is an intense, often bluish, green. Of course, that time the water was a dingy gray brown, so we opted not to try for olive drab eggs. Remind me to tell you about the cabbage experiments, though. They were more colorful.)

Tonight, we finally got around to eating the artichokes I trimmed yesterday, the most lethal-looking of which was featured on America’s Most Dangerous Vegetables. Theo, who loves to eat breakfast but has decreasing interest in food over the course of the day, has been wary of trying new foods at dinnertime. This was the first time we managed to get him to try artichoke. I’m quite happy to say that he was instantly taken with them, too. (Though it is a happiness tinged with sadness, as we will no longer be able to eat his unclaimed artichoke. And, alas, our pan can only hold 4 artichokes.)

(I have more to say, about artichokes, even, but I need to get to bed. I’ve had an exhausting day of digging through cabinets and closets looking in preparation for Saturday’s event of terror.)

because I felt like I should toss something up here

Hey. Remember how I used to write stuff and post stuff here all the time? Like more than twice a month? Yeah, me too. That was cool.

I haven’t left, though. Well, actually, I did go on a trip, and come back. I went to Colorado for a cousin’s wedding. (All four of us went, and we got to see various family members, including my mother. Which was wonderful. Phoebe and Theo hadn’t seen my mother in over a year.) But what I mean to say is that I haven’t really abandoned the blog. I actually still write drafts that never get posted, and think about posting something almost daily. I’m not quite sure what gets in the way, except maybe the guilty sense that my time should be going in other directions.

I’ve still been keeping up with Project 365, and while I have definitely hit the doldrums, I am still largely enjoying myself. Many days, I feel like I’m going through the motions, and end up with predictably lackluster shots. Often taken at 11pm, somewhere in my house. However, when I look back at a month’s worth, I am generally pleased to see that there have been a few shots that I actually like. And every once in a while, I manage to do something fun.

In other news, in case you haven’t checked in on my sister’s blog, the latest news on my nephew and the pathology report was good, if unsettling: the masses removed in his recent surgery appear to be dead tumors. So, not requiring more chemo, which is fantastic. But unnerving, in that it’s not clear when, exactly, these tumors first showed up.

There are plenty more things that have been on my mind, and perhaps I will get around to sharing them. But for now, I should get back to some other stuff.

hitting a wall

I had meant to post something fun today, seeing as I’ve managed to go a whole 2 weeks since last posting. (That may be a record for me–I don’t remember going longer.) But I got some distressing news today. My nephew Diego had his 4-month-post-treatment scan yesterday, and the results were not as we’d anticipated. There will need to be more surgery. I feel a bit like we’ve hit a wall.

(I found this photo when looking through my photo library for clouds, since my sister picked that as a theme for her post. This felt fitting. I’m quite fond of the photo, though. It’s a mural in San Francisco, I think near the Bay Bridge.)

snowed out

As you might have heard, Massachusetts was hit by a major blizzard Tuesday night and all day Wednesday, leading the governor to declare a state of emergency. Pretty much everyone was snowed in, with schools and most businesses closed. People all over the state spent all day Wednesday shoveling out.

Not me.

This is the view that greeted me Wednesday morning:

My flight back on Tuesday was scheduled to arrive at around 10:30 p.m. in Boston. It was cancelled. Along with, as far as I can tell, all Boston flights on Wednesday. On Tuesday it looked like the earliest I could get back home was Friday night around 10 o’clock.

So much for trying to minimize my time away from home!

I did eventually manage (my third rescheduling with the airline) to get a reservation for a flight that is scheduled to arrive in Boston just before noon tomorrow. Assuming the weather cooperates (which is a pretty big assumption, seeing as I’m going through Chicago), I’ll be getting home a few hours before the kids get home from preschool and daycare. I’m just hoping I can at least get home well before their bedtime. And time a nap would be nice, seeing as my flight to Chicago is a redeye. (Didn’t I say I didn’t want a redeye? Sigh.)

I’ve been enjoying this bonus time with my mother, sister, brother-in-law and nephews–3 extra days. Actually, I had trouble really enjoying myself on Tuesday until I got my flight plans worked out. I was distracted by trying to figure out my travel schedule and my work schedule, worrying about the impact of this on John’s work schedule, and missing John and the kids in a much more intense way than in the previous days. I had really been looking forward to getting back to them. But once I had some reservations on flights that were not likely to be cancelled (unlike the airline’s initial move of bumping me to Wednesday flights, which I knew would also be cancelled), and once I’d talked with John and the kids, I settled in to enjoy the bonus days here. (I’ve also managed to do some work–my research group is submitting a big paper in a few days, and I’d committed to doing a lot of work for that this week. After I got home. Ahem.)

In all, this has been about the best possible major travel delay. I’ve been safe and comfortable, and not stuck in an airport with crowds of cranky people, sleeping in chairs or on floors, and not having access to a shower. (Yes, I have experienced that sort of delay.) The expense to me is moderately small, limited mainly to the cost of airport parking for 3 more days. I don’t have to worry about paying for a hotel. And even better, I’ve been with people that I love. (It’s been a really great visit, by the way.)

Now I’d best get back to work!