Get your own
 diary at DiaryLand.com! contact me older entries newest entry


Previously...

Springtime For Someone
Tuesday, Mar. 20, 2018
Antlers
Monday, Dec. 18, 2017
Confessions Of A Pack Rat
Thursday, Sept. 28, 2017
More Threes
Thursday, Jun. 29, 2017
Bindyree's Threes
Tuesday, Apr. 11, 2017


This is my safe space

This is where I post, where I dream,
where I hurt, and where I recover.

Everybody who understands this
is welcome to stay.


Why is this here?


Extras, Fun Stuff &
Recommended Reading

42 Things About Me
Erasure Impostor Info
More Stuff About Me
I Love You
My Friday Five Archive
Friday Five v2.0
The Daily Meme
ACME Heartmaker
Citizen Redress
Maukie
Teddy Bears
Keane Concert Pics
Wikipedia
Paul Kidd on Kindle


I Can Hear The Ocean.

A proud member of
the Diaryland family
for over a tenth
of a century.


Follow me on Twitter!


Always go too far
because that's where
you'll find the truth.

Albert Camus


My First Tattoo


Mom

Gran

Friday, Oct. 03, 2003 - 1:05 a.m.

It is the morning of Friday, October 3rd, 2003. I'm sitting here in my living room. It was a grey day in San Francisco, at least in the part of it where I live. I'm wearing a t-shirt, and blue pajama bottoms. This is what I slept in last night, and I just took a shower. In a few minutes, I'm going to bed.

My maternal grandmother died Thursday evening. Marie Coldicutt Taylor would have been 91 on December 23rd.

Died. Died. It's such a tiny little word.

And I guess it's the one that people believe the least when they hear it.

I miss my Mom right now. I hope she was waiting for Gran when she got there. I miss my grandfather, whom we called Pa Pa. I miss Uncle Joe, too. And as my regular readers know, I miss Dad.

My grandmother lived a good long life. Her husband went first, then, horribly, her daughter, and finally, her baby brother, whom she raised from the age of two and who thought of her as his mother. She'd lost her own mother when she was ten. Her favorite song was "Bad Moon Rising" by Creedence Clearwater Revival. She also liked the song "Amen" as it was performed by Sidney Poitier in the movie 'Lillies of the Field'. And "Your Mama Don't Dance" by Loggins and Messina.

The neighborhood will sing her praises. Most of the people there have known her for at least twenty years. Most are immigrants who settled here in California, and had to leave their own precious abuelas behind. She was the only one they knew as such.

---

Tears. Some, anyway. But oddly enough, what's happening more... is kindness.

After we received the news, I called Scott Hysmith as per his request. He was charming and sympathetic as no man should ever be who's been called with such news at one-thirty in the morning his local time.

Now then. The choice as I see it as far as outbursty cathartic things go when you have a bunch of emotion to deal with, you can send it out into the universe one of three ways: 1) Laughter 2) Crying 3) Orgasm.

Obviously, two of those are not an option at the formal memorial service. And if any wags out there ask which two, I'm gonna reach through the web and smack you with a rolled-up newspaper.

But it's said that laughter heals. I think this is true.

---

Remember the other day when I showed you what was in my drawers? There was something else in there that I didn't write about.

I found a cassette in the bottom left drawer of the credenza. It was among my mother's things that were given to me a few years after she passed away in the spring of 1995. It contains an audio recording of my third birthday party.

Uncle Joe had always been the gadget guru in the family. He was into shortwave, he once owned a radio station, and when he finally worked up the nerve to buy himself a never-before-owned vehicle, he bought a Cadillac with every automatic function imaginable built in. So he showed up at my third birthday party with a cassette deck and a big silver microphone on a stand, and he taped me, and all of the people at the party.

My mother, my father, Gran, Pa Pa, Uncle Joe, and me.

As of 7:30 local time on Thursday, October 2, 2003, of the voices on that cassette...

...I am now the only person left.

---

My brother Jon Taylor Landerman was there for her final moments. He held her as she passed.

He said it was like turning down a dimmer switch.

He and Shelly and their kids are now staying at Gran's house, and I hope they stay there until the estate is settled. They're gonna be up to their ears in food by the end of the day, and the house will be full of loved ones.

I also spoke for a while to Jamie, about an hour or so before I posted this here. He's worked at nursing homes, and been present when so many people pass -- he said it's always been a privelege to help people do that. And in a way, I understand.

And then I logged back on to write this post, and ran into fellow Diarylander BoogityX2 in IMs, who when it comes to coping mechanisms, is apparently a kindered spirit. And it's just a year nearly to the day since his -own- grandma assumed room temperature. Dag, yo!

---

I'll play Friday Five next week. But the rest of y'all, go ahead. :)

---

Holding Drowsy This is a picture of me, taken about six months prior to my third birthday. I remember this day. I'm standing in Gran & Pa Pa's front yard. Gran had curled my hair and put it up in a little ponytail, and she even made the red dress I wore that day.

If I could ask a small favor of you today -- please hold me in your heart the way I'm holding my doll.

I'll know you're doing it.

---

what you missed - what's next - leave a note
first post - cast page - diaryrings - top ten

about me - read my profile! read other Diar
yLand diaries! recommend my diary to a friend! Get
 your own fun + free diary at DiaryLand.com!


THE LEGAL STUFF: All content on this site that was created by me is copyright 2003-infinity by Brin Marie McLaughlin. Steal my stuff and I'll squash you like a bug. All incoming email or any other form of communication with me is subject to publication or other distribution by me in whole or in part at my sole discretion. This diary features the sole opinions and experiences of one person, namely me, the person who is paying for this space. In the interest of safety and accountability, no anonymous input will ever be allowed here, ever, for any reason in the entire history of ever. Whenever there is a comments section appearing in this diary, it's to be considered part of my paid presence on the web, and shall be used by my readership to supplement the things I have written here with relevant information in a polite manner. Comments that do not fall in that category are subject to deletion at my whim. Your visit to my diary along with your use of my comments section constitutes the understanding of this statement. Anything else on these pages including any comments belongs to whoever created it. All external links are current as of the date of the entry in which they are first featured, but at no other time. News excerpts used here are for educational purposes and are permitted under the Fair Use Doctrine. Hold hands when you cross the street, and play nice.