When I’m with Etta, I find myself wishing I could capture all the hilarious and tender moments. Every interaction is so special and priceless that I can’t imagine forgetting anything…but I do. It’s been wonderful to go back and read entries over the past 6 months.
I’ve wanted to sit down and write multiple times over the past couple of weeks but have found myself resisting, feeling guarded. As emotional as I can be, I can only be emotional but for so long. Then, I’m just flat…tired. And yet, during these weary moments, nothing refreshes me like seeing Etta’s face when our eyes first connect at a visit. Ironically, she has told me time and time again that the same goes for her.
I received the official autopsy report for James this week. When I saw the package from the Medical Examiner in the mail box, I threw the rest of the mail in my car to open this long awaited information. While some anomalies were reported, James’ death was ruled to have been a heart attack. The medical director offered to meet with me to explain the pages of details. Though James died over 2 months ago, reading the report elicited some of the feelings I felt the day he passed and the day we buried him. Somehow reading this official report, the details of the criminal aspect, and even seeing my name in print as the responsible party really had an impact on me. I thought about Preston…my dad…James’ life as a son, brother, husband, father….and then I had to let it go. It is done and I have done all that I could.
As you may recall, Etta didn’t know that we buried James as it was impossible for her to be there. In the beginning, Etta mentioned the burial arrangements nearly every day. She often spoke of her desire to see him again. In part to say goodbye and in part because she had such a hard time believing he really had died right before her eyes. This subsided and then weeks went by in which she didn’t mention it. About a week ago, it came up again. Etta told me she would feel so much better once she knew he was buried even if she couldn’t be there. So, the next day, I told her I had taken care of the burying James’ remains and though teary-eyed, she was relieved. It hasn’t come up again.
Etta is doing amazingly well, all things considered (I know I have written this statement before, but it really is true). Since July 27th when I was able to have her removed from the home, she has improved in so many ways. The most obvious difference is her physical appearance. She has gained 15+ pounds! I have seen her evolve from a feeble, emaciated, helpless soul slowly returning to the confident, strong, feisty woman I have always known and adored.
Etta has several phrases that find a way into our conversations daily…and though I hear these time and time again, they never get old...
“Life is a mystery!”
“I’m doing the best I can; that’s all anyone can do.”
“Just got to take it one day at a time.”
“No hurting in flirting”
“I’m going home tomorrow or at least by the end of the week”
“I have a house full of beautiful clothes.”
“Everyone knows you...how is that?”
“The man in red begs me to go to music with him…I think he would cry if I said no.”
“When is my driver’s license supposed to be renewed?”
“How’s my lipstick…let me put a little more on.”
“Everyone here seems so old.”
“People tell me that I look like a movie star…even the young men say that.”
“I was dancing earlier…”
“I can walk…I just use a wheelchair because it’s convenient”
“Girls come in here all the time because they want my advice on life” (referring to the nurses)
“Do you cross your heart?”
“Can you poof up my hair…spray it a little some?”
“Stand in front of me so I can see your whole outfit…now turn around.”
“Your lips look white today…go use some of my lipstick…really…you should.”
“Your friend (LeAnn) sure likes to laugh….loudly.”
“You think you might want to spend the night here sometime…cause you could.”
I’ve wanted to sit down and write multiple times over the past couple of weeks but have found myself resisting, feeling guarded. As emotional as I can be, I can only be emotional but for so long. Then, I’m just flat…tired. And yet, during these weary moments, nothing refreshes me like seeing Etta’s face when our eyes first connect at a visit. Ironically, she has told me time and time again that the same goes for her.
I received the official autopsy report for James this week. When I saw the package from the Medical Examiner in the mail box, I threw the rest of the mail in my car to open this long awaited information. While some anomalies were reported, James’ death was ruled to have been a heart attack. The medical director offered to meet with me to explain the pages of details. Though James died over 2 months ago, reading the report elicited some of the feelings I felt the day he passed and the day we buried him. Somehow reading this official report, the details of the criminal aspect, and even seeing my name in print as the responsible party really had an impact on me. I thought about Preston…my dad…James’ life as a son, brother, husband, father….and then I had to let it go. It is done and I have done all that I could.
As you may recall, Etta didn’t know that we buried James as it was impossible for her to be there. In the beginning, Etta mentioned the burial arrangements nearly every day. She often spoke of her desire to see him again. In part to say goodbye and in part because she had such a hard time believing he really had died right before her eyes. This subsided and then weeks went by in which she didn’t mention it. About a week ago, it came up again. Etta told me she would feel so much better once she knew he was buried even if she couldn’t be there. So, the next day, I told her I had taken care of the burying James’ remains and though teary-eyed, she was relieved. It hasn’t come up again.
Etta is doing amazingly well, all things considered (I know I have written this statement before, but it really is true). Since July 27th when I was able to have her removed from the home, she has improved in so many ways. The most obvious difference is her physical appearance. She has gained 15+ pounds! I have seen her evolve from a feeble, emaciated, helpless soul slowly returning to the confident, strong, feisty woman I have always known and adored.
Etta has several phrases that find a way into our conversations daily…and though I hear these time and time again, they never get old...
“Life is a mystery!”
“I’m doing the best I can; that’s all anyone can do.”
“Just got to take it one day at a time.”
“No hurting in flirting”
“I’m going home tomorrow or at least by the end of the week”
“I have a house full of beautiful clothes.”
“Everyone knows you...how is that?”
“The man in red begs me to go to music with him…I think he would cry if I said no.”
“When is my driver’s license supposed to be renewed?”
“How’s my lipstick…let me put a little more on.”
“Everyone here seems so old.”
“People tell me that I look like a movie star…even the young men say that.”
“I was dancing earlier…”
“I can walk…I just use a wheelchair because it’s convenient”
“Girls come in here all the time because they want my advice on life” (referring to the nurses)
“Do you cross your heart?”
“Can you poof up my hair…spray it a little some?”
“Stand in front of me so I can see your whole outfit…now turn around.”
“Your lips look white today…go use some of my lipstick…really…you should.”
“Your friend (LeAnn) sure likes to laugh….loudly.”
“You think you might want to spend the night here sometime…cause you could.”