Angst Amongst the Loved Ones

So you may be asking, where is Cookie now.

Cookie has traveled from the Old Bay State of Maryland to the THE Bay State to spend a weekend with the in-laws.

Its the real life Family Circus, except we are trapped in the peanut gallery and the people in the center ring are my in-laws and we are waiting for them to do something - anything.

Or, as I like to call it, Angst Amongst the Loved Ones.

As I have said before, my in-laws are salt of the earth good people.  But at 90 and 91 they are frail and failing.  And so are the things around them.

Though they are in good health, given everything that they have been through, its tough seeing people who are important in your life decline.

Needless to say its been stressful.

The angst is thick as molasses on a winters morn.

Earlier in the week they spoke to a local "undertakah" about final arrangements.  My mother in law wants to be buried with my father in law and vis versa and the original plans were to be cremated, and then the cremains to be co mingled and buried in the plot.

But now she wants them to be buried in the family plot.

But they can't bury one on top the other, so they would need to buried standing up.

"Eternity on my feet? Are you crazy?"

She has a point.  What about being cremated?  "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you."

Still we all feel very guilty about not being able to do more.  Its a like you are waiting for plane, but you aren't quite sure when it will land.

So we cleaned, because the carioca missy (Paolo) that is supposed to be cleaning just waves his his magic duster without catching so much a spec of dust mite poo, all the while he samba's about showering us with accolades.

"Ohhh, Meeses, choo have chuch han-some suns," says Paolo, Paolo, Paolo as he flicks his wrist (like he wiggles his hips) a foot from the lamp shade he's supposed to be dusting.

Meanwhile the in-laws are pretty much blind to what goes on around them, and if they can see, they forget as soon as something else catches their attention.

Food is another sticking point.  M.F.K. Fisher used to say that in spring you eat for freshness, summer for ripeness  fall for flavor and in winter its all in decay.  Not true, we found this poor thing in the fridge on the first day of summer:

Like it, after serval days of this, stick a fork in me, I am done as well.

Thank God for the husband, though.  He understands me.  

But unless you have been around it, there is nothing worse then seeing someone you love when they are less then they want to be.  I told the husband, if I get to that point, drive me to the beach and let the tide take me out. 

Tomorrow, we'll be home physically.  But emotionally we'll still be here, waiting and wondering what will be the next to go.