In Passing

There is no primer for how to deal with the passing of a loved one. There’s no simple formula, no self-help book, no real advice that can ever make it go down easier. There is only one tried and true procedure and although you’ve probably heard of it, here it is again in print:

You stand there and let it hit you like a Mack truck and then get up and see how you feel. Sometimes there are some minor scrapes and bruises and other times there are complications.

Birth and death are such primal life experiences and in each one we are pretty much bystanders to the event. Oh, we try to control various factors such as place, time and environment but in the end we control nothing and especially when a person that we have known and/or loved dies we are left feeling powerless and vulnerable as to how hard that Mack truck is going to hit.

My sister-in-law’s mother, Grace, had been managing a bout with lung cancer, a battle no one ever wins. Recently she had entered into the care of Hospice and had but a couple of estimated days remaining.

Today she died.

Grace was many things and, like all of us, there was the good, the bad and the just plain nutty. I’m sure that I’ll be able to apply that epitaph to each and every friend and relative that passes, including myself, because that is the nature of our crazy little lives on this earth. For whatever shape her neurosis took Grace was, at her essence, a caring mother, grandmother, wife, friend and, as she should, will be missed by many people.

Grace always played it ‘large’ and if you didn’t know she was in the room then you were completely missing a pulse because her commanding voice and penchant to express herself at family meals with a mouth full of flying food definitely established her presence. Her opinions were carved in stone; she had the touch of a sledgehammer and, really, I liked her for all those reasons.

She especially enjoyed yanking my chain by asking my wife why she married a bum like me and other assorted wisecracks but she would always make sure it happened within my earshot and then I’d see that grin on her face and I’d walk by and crack back at her and she’d laugh. It was this comedic fencing that we’d do over and over to our mutual amusement.

One inadvertent act endeared her to me forever. While I was writing dining reviews for an arts and entertainment magazine in another state, I was critical of a particular restaurant’s cannoli and mentioned Grace’s connoli as a reference standard as to how it should be done. What I considered a simple A/B comparison she took as high compliment because I wasn’t only writing about food I was writing about her food and food to an Italian is like a full time occupation interrupted by an occasional timeout for those lesser moments that don’t have anything to do with food.

I doubt that Grace would argue that her finest achievement was her daughter and for that we are all thankful that she took the time, with her late husband Louis, to create another truly wonderful person in this world.

I have little patience for fakes and phonies, people who waste my time trying to convince me they’re something they obviously aren’t. I appreciate real people for who they are even if I don’t agree with them all the time. For whatever her faults or triumphs, Grace was unapologetically herself and for that alone I mourn her passing.

From one kook to another, I’ll miss you Grace.