The Funeral Bag*

*Before you judge what I am going to type on this post, please understand this is how I react to stress. In fact, my Aunt Kathleen that died this September had a funeral binder that went over every aspect of dying so that your family members knew exactly what you wanted. (I cannot locate the particular one she had but here is one called "If I croak". Not kidding)

BB is in the end stages of Alzheimer's. She could speak in March, she cannot now. She could eat birthday cake in May, she cannot swallow very well now. These are facts. They absolutely SUCK. But this is the reality we are dealing with. And my approach to a situation like this is to prepare. I write this post mainly for myself but hopefully it will resonate with others in this same position.

I am the person that starts packing for the beach a month out. I get this from my father. (Dad this is ALL your fault). I designate the dining room table to be "Beach Central" and start collecting things we want to bring in there. That same Aunt Kathleen used to bring a Uhaul to the house they rented in Litchfield. She would rearrange the entire house. It's in my blood.

Ever since the phone call I received in December 2014 that Mom had fallen down the stairs and was in a pool of blood, well I have been on alert. I missed that call because I was taking a shower at 11pm, a thing nursing mothers do because their free time is so sparse. I had 8 missed calls from my father. I am now glued to my phone. And I would be lying if I said that I didn't wince every time I see his number.

Preparation gives me peace. It gives me some aspect of control back over this horrible situation. And for a control freak....that's a win. If I have outfits prepared, a rough draft of an obituary, an idea of catering costs, flower ordering...etc...I can sleep better. My therapist says this is insane, and I totally agree, but try telling that to my mind and heart.

I just remember that when I had my Hospital Bag packed I felt ready. Ready for a baby that came three weeks early. I was obviously not ready for everything motherhood would throw at me or the delivery of Ford and Amelie, but having that bag packed by the mudroom door gave me a sense of peace.

I am lucky that I have another mother in my life, Alice Myer, that can help me with all of this. We have grown up at the same Church and she will know all the correct people to contact. (Dad will too but I want him on the deck listening to Bob Marley).

I want to know what I should wear, my kids should wear. Do I get my stepson to travel to Asheville for this? Do little kids wear black? I'll probably need a sitter for the week just to be an extra set of  hands. Do we wear black? Green was Mom's favorite color. Parking at my parents' house will be a b*tch. I already know the bartender (Love you Tracey). I've already read the bereavement policy at work. I'm assuming we will need Jessie May's biscuits and a caterer of some sort. And again...already concerned about parking. Then when it is time to place her in the Barlow tomb in New Orleans (and the garth at All Souls) do we all fly down? Boozy lunch at Galatoire's and a small service at the Cemetery? I have no idea how to do this. All of my grandparents died before I was two so death of immediate family members is very new to me.

I know it is morbid as hell, but this is how I work. I want a binder, I need an arsenal. I'm a doer, a bullet point princess.

If you have any tips for this phase of life (Or a gorgeous black dress) please email me or comment.