It’s been an odd couple of weeks around our house. And if I weren’t Catholic, I think they would have depressed me greatly.
First of all, we lost my mother-in-law. “Babci” as her grandchildren called her, passed to the next life after a short hospital stay. True, she made it to 90 and was sharp as a tack all the way, but that doesn’t make our dinner table any less empty. She lived with us for five years and suppertime is now decidedly diminished without her nightly report of events gathered from a day spent cruising her favorite cable stations.
Due to some logistical issues, we had to postpone Babci’s burial until a week after her funeral Mass. We buried her on a Monday morning and stopped by later to see how she was settling into the new neighborhood. We also took some measurements we needed to order her monument; that included the uneasy process of measuring other people’s monuments for reference.
Please tell me someone else out there has done that.
While we were skulking around measuring tombstones and taking photos of the latest in posthumous real estate, my son asked if my wife and I knew where we would one day be buried. I’m telling you, this kid is fearless about the realities of life. You should have seen him leading prayers and singing to Babci in her hospital room (she always loved to hear him sing).
Fortunately, an answer to his question was at the ready. Mary Ann and I had discussed the subject in recent days. Our plan is to be buried in the very same cemetery. We have a daughter there who died in utero and now we’ll have Babci and my late father-in-law there.
What my wife said to Michael next came as a bit of a surprise…even to me. It seems that, while making arrangements for Babci’s interment, she made a reservation for herself and me in the two plots right next door. It makes perfect sense, getting in at today’s prices, but it still took me a little by surprise.
And the way they arrange things in cemeteries, it’s husband on grave right, wife on grave left; that means, the way these plots sit, it’ll be Babci and me, side-by-side, until Jesus separates the sheep from the goats.
Fortunately, it’s no big deal. Babci and I were great pals and I’m glad my son won’t have to decide where to put Mom and Dad when our time comes.
Of course, there’s that old Irish tradition that says if you get a chill, it’s because someone walked over your grave, wherever it may be. I’m thinking of heading over to the cemetery and putting some barbed wire around mine to keep people off of it.
Like I said. It’s been a strange couple of weeks.
In case you’re among the people who believe unpleasantness always comes in threes, let me give you one more. My doctor hates me. He probably found out I bought a cemetery plot and wants to make me feel old enough to use it.
Trust me. This is going somewhere.
He diagnosed me with acid reflux and suggested I start drinking decaffeinated tea instead of my standard coffee. Congratulations are in order. I have matured into the target audience for the stomach medicine Larry the Cable Guy sells on television.
I’ve had, on average, about a quart of black coffee every day since around 1978. None of those cream and sugar confections, just good, honest black coffee. It was good enough for my mother; it’s good enough for me. Now, Dr. Killjoy wants me to disrespect my mother’s memory and start drinking decaffeinated tea. I’ll drink some, but no coffee at all is off the table.
So let’s see…my household has lost a beloved member, I can picnic on my own grave, and I now have to order my coffee from the conspicuous orange-lidded pot that tells your fellow diners that you just can’t take the hard stuff anymore.
Not a laugh-riot couple of weeks.
But here’s the strange part. As much fun as it is to complain and crack jokes about all of this, I’m incredibly at peace with it all, including being in the over-50 pharmaceutical demographic. I’ve been that way ever since we all gathered around Babci’s hospital bed to pray with some wonderful priest friends who stopped by to visit her, anoint her and give her the Apostolic Pardon.
Watching her pass peacefully, having received all the sacramental care she could have hoped for made me very unafraid, all of a sudden. The sense it all makes is undeniably logical…death comes…for everybody…that’s that. But it doesn’t win…it just happens…it has to happen so we can get where we’re supposed to be.
As I said above, if I weren’t Catholic, recent events would have left me very depressed; as it stands, I’m happy for mother-in-law, because she had a beautiful send-off, and I feel not-at-all intimidated by that little patch of earth, with my name on it, over at Resurrection Cemetery.
I love being Catholic. It gets us through everything…maybe even decaf.
Jeff Job said:
Jesus never made decaf… but He sure made gallons and gallons of wine😎
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Jim Moore said:
Just one more reason to love Him, Jeff!
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Marcia Hunter said:
Jim, I am losing a very dear friend to cancer and this post now makes more sense of it for me. Even we Lutherans need your wonderful outlook.
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Jim Moore said:
Thank you, Marcia. I’m going to a St. Peregrine devotion tomorrow (patron saint of cancer patients) where I will pray for your friend.
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Dennis Neylon said:
As someone who, in the last 18 months lost both my father and mother-in-law, was forced off caffeine by my cardiologist six years ago, and diagnosed with both acid reflux and GERD in the last year or so, I know where you are at. Both of my losses were after illnesses in which both suffered much (Dad for years, my mother-in-law for months). Both suffer no more but are dearly missed.
As to the surrendering of things to age (I am 60), I still dearly miss caffeine, which I became seriously hooked on in the Navy. I have found decaf espresso (readily available in Italian markets) a substitute that almost satisfies (it tastes the most like real coffee); decaf lattes (or regular decaf with flavored cream) is a passable substitute. Decaf coffee straight is yucky and decaf instant is an abomination. I have also had to say farewell to tomato juice (I still look longingly at V8 at the store) and orange juice (grapefruit juice, a truly yucky beverage, became forbidden when i went on statins for cholesterol [now under control]). Arthritis has also reared its’ ugly head and because of the digestive issues, the one good over-the-counter remedy is now forbidden.
The flip side of the aging issue is this — I am blessed to have live this long, to be able to spend time with grandchildren and to soon (but not soon enough) retire from a job that is less a joy and more a burden as time goes on (health care is becoming an ugly field to work in, and the agency I work for is becoming particularly bad as an employer [although the quality of care is much better than many outside the agency think]).
May God continue to bless and be with you and those you love.
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Jim Moore said:
Dennis, I’m sorry to hear about the suffering involved your losses. Your dad and mother-in-law may not need it, but I’ll say a prayer for them anyway. Thank you so much for the voice-of-experience advice on decaf substitutes (I love your take on decaf instant). I’ll grab some decaf espresso on our next shopping run. And I will also pray for you and your grandchildren, that you have the blessing of many years to enjoy together.
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Chelsea said:
I have to suggest you try Mystic Monk Coffee’s Fair Trade Mexican Decaf. As a young mother in the midst of my childbearing and nursing years, i have had to fast from caffeine quite a bit and find it is a very acceptable substitute. Plus it’s made by Carmelite Monks in Wyoming, which is hard to top.
Thank you for your reflections. I was privileged to witness the passing of my grandfather from cancer this year, and I agree the sacraments bring such peace. God bless!
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Jim Moore said:
Chelsea, I’m glad to hear your grandfather had loved ones around him as he passed, sacramentally sound, into eternity. And thank you for the recommendation. I’ve had the “real” coffee from Mystic Monk. I’ll take your recommended decaf blend a try!
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Cathy J said:
As someone who had a Babci, and who’s mother was my daughter’s Babci, and who hopes to be one some day–thanks for this.
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Jim Moore said:
My, pleasure, Cathy. Thank you for stopping by. As they sing on my wife’s side of the family, “Sto lat!”
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John A Lombardi said:
To all of you wonderful people, rest assured of my prayers. I’m a first-time visitor to this site, what an uplift. Pax Christi in Regnum Christi! John A. Lombardi
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Jim Moore said:
Thank you for stopping by, John. I hope you’ll be back.
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John A Lombardi said:
Jim, I will, and thank you for your encouragement.
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