The Negress doesn’t usually wander from the blogiverse for long periods but there’s a good excuse this time. Six days after the last post, her mother died. This turned out to be slightly worse than expected. Her Mom had been in dementia’s cruel grip for about eight years or so. For about the past five years, there was no recognition on her part of the Negress or her sister. It’s very weird to lose someone who is, essentially, already gone. Initially, much felt fine. Mom had been in and out of hospice three times in the past year and a half. Funeral and burial were bought and paid for. The Negress was prepared. Or so she thought.
Then came a weird phone call from the nursing home. Many of the caregivers are West African and their speech is lilting but not fluid in English. Something about the funeral home needing to pick up the body. The Negress asked for a repetition, got one and then asked, “So are you telling me my mother is dead?” Yes came the answer. More phone calls to the funeral home and her sister ensued. Sleep was unlikely so flights were booked so quickly she got the departure date wrong and had to rebook. The Negress then staggered through insurance orientation for the next two days feeling sort of weird and disconnected. Then she hopped on the Schoolbus of the Sky, stayed with friends, got through the funeral and burial, had dinner with her sister, picked up the original of her Mom’s will and felt grateful that you can settle an estate by mail in DC.So back to Chicagoland and work. Somehow the energy that made all the DC time possible dribbled away and left the Negress stuck in herself, unable to do her job and unable to realize that all grief is different. There was a quota to be met at work and it didn’t happen so she was called into a corner office. After being discussed in the third person for a while, she agreed to drop off the career track with the company but continue to broker their products. The Negress was prepared for this, even bringing bins to clean out her desk that morning with a certain prescience.
Since all that, she’s done some freelance writing for Foodservice Daily and Uncorked, become more involved with local politics through Community Renewal Service and done some charity knitting. In short, it’s getting better and sometimes it’s even OK. But I still miss my Mom. A lot.












