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In the Gutter
I want to say last week was an easy one. But that would be lying. And since I still have memories of standing in the corner with my nose pressed against the wall while trying to figure out just how my mom knew it was me who drank the peach schnapps and tried to replace it with water ate the last cookie instead of my brother, I figure I’ll just tell the truth.
I talked a good game about keeping up beat and smiling through the tears. Heck, I was determined to remember the joy of my friend’s life and not dwell on the fact I will no longer be able to stoop over and give her a big hug or tease her about the hats she liked to wear.
But standing at the cemetery, just a few rows from where I once stood and watched my son lowered into the ground was almost more than I could bear. All I could think about was the memory of what holding your dead child in your arms feels like.
After the service I wandered over to Bug’s grave with my husband holding my hand. I felt like a fraud who was wiped out with grief. I needed a moment to tell Bug I love him and how his parents and siblings miss him so. That he is never forgotten.
After bending down to wipe some dust from his name carved in the rock, I looked up from his marker. I was startled to meet the eyes of Boo’s family and our friends staring down at me. Sadness and pity and love all emanated from them.
I wasn’t ready for the onslaught of people who had trudged over to pay respects to my son. To Boo and I.
I was a wreck. So much for my tough talk. I felt like a fraud, pretending to be well adjusted when really I am just a broken hearted mother who hasn’t quite figured out how to chase the pain away. I wanted to scream at them to turn away. To give me a minute to touch his marker and pretend it was my son’s lily white skin I was caressing. I wanted to shake them all and tell them to cherish the ones they love so dearly because you never know when your tomorrows will come to an end.
Hell, I wanted to rip off my clothes and run screaming, stark raving mad as far as my feet could take me until all my pain finally disappeared.
I was completely unprepared to share my son, or the memory of him with anyone. Not even my husband.
It was a grim reminder of a day I never wanted to live, never wanted to repeat.
I pushed away and escaped the throng of well meaning family members to go sit in my car. I cried. The gasping, snotty ugly cry. Behind my puffy red eyes, my mind was wishing to have Loreen and Shalebug back for one moment to make sure they knew how much we, I, loved them.
One moment would never be enough though. Not when you love someone and lose them.
So I did what any grieving mother and friend would do.
I cowboyed up. I took a deep breath, and slapped on my sunglasses. Red puffy eyes ringed with smeared mascara is not a cute look on me.
I harnessed the love around me and decided to turn the tables on grief. Enough with the weeping. It was making me feel old. And it is starting to give me wrinkles.
Well, okay. My kids are giving me wrinkles, but I was running out of tissues and I refused to wipe my snotty nose on my sleeve. I am a classy gal , after all.
The question is, what does one do to celebrate the lives of a beloved friend/aunt/mother (and a little boy) who loved life so?
Well, if you’re a redneck like me, that means bowling and beer.
What better way to show your love for lost loved ones than slipping on a pair of diseased and dirty bowling shoes that who knows how many others before you stuffed their sweaty fungally feet in?
Boo and I gathered up the masses, comprised of cousins he hasn’t seen since before he sprouted hair around his Mr.Pickle and a few close friends and we headed to the bowling alley.
This was the first time I had met this side of Boo’s family, as they all live out of province. Great. I’m grieving, I suck at bowling and I blog about my vagina. You just know I’m bound to make a good impression on his family. Heh.
Thankfully, Boo’s family are the polar opposite to who I am. A judgmental, emotionally unstable smart ass. So I had that working in my favour.
However, did I mention Boo’s family are all professional bowlers of some sort? No? Probably because I didn’t know that myself until after the teams were made up and I watched them bowl strike after strike after strike.
Great. Now I’m not only worried about keeping my bowling shoes out of my mouth but my ball (and my mind) out of the gutter. Thankfully, Sleeman’s Honey Brown helped calm me down and channel my inner bowling freak.
Well, inner freak.
After the first game where I bowled an astonishing 44 point game and my children threatened to trade me in for the homeless woman we had passed on the street (because you know…surely she could bowl better than me) I loosened up. Nothing like making an arse out of oneself with masses of family members watching you and snickering behind your back. Literally.
I was on my best behaviour. I smiled. I joked. I hid my bad bowling temper tantrums behind the soda machines. I was determined to make a good impression.
I knew I was doomed when my darlin’ husband started handing out my business cards like condoms at the high school prom.
Oh well, love me, love thy blog I thought as I watched my ball slowly curve toward the gutter.
(Have you ever noticed when some people play video games they wave the controllers around wildly, as though they can magically command the game to go in the direction of their arms but ultimately just look like a kid having an epileptic fit? Ya, that was me as the ball headed toward the gutter. I was standing on one foot, madly waving the ball away from the gutter in hopes that my mind could control the curve of ball. Because I’m so good at mind control, you know.)
Of course, a night out with me wouldn’t be any fun unless my husband had an opportunity to yank my foot out of my mouth at least once. We both knew it was going to happen. It was just a question of when.
In my defense, it was the beer. Really. One of his very nice cousins complimented me on my tattoos. We bonded over our ink. Finally, here is a family member I could be myself with, I thought, in my beer addled brain.
(You know when you are talking to someone and it’s going really well and you get excited and in your excitement you say something that crosses the line and then the person you are trying to bond with gets a funny look on their face and wonders what the hell you are smoking, then takes a deep swig of their drink while looking for the nearest escape route?
Ya. Well, I am Queen at engineering those moments.)
His charming and tattooed cousin inquired if I had planned to get any more ink. “Absolutely,” I responded enthusiastically (and probably slightly slurred), “but only when I know Boo’s going to be out of town for a while. He doesn’t approve of me desecrating my skin.”
“What? Boo doesn’t like your tats? Has he no taste? Boo! What the hell is wrong with you,” he called out to my husband. Boo walked over and tried to give me the “Please put your beer down and close your mouth before you say something that will embarrass both of us” look.
However, my beer goggles interpreted said look as “Please continue. I’m dying to hear how your bowling shoes taste after I have to yank them out of the mouth you refuse to shut.”
Before Boo could explain he didn’t particularly like tattoos but he respected my right to plaster them all over my body, I answered for him. (Because good wives do that.)
“Well, he may not like the tatties but he sure loves my nipple rings,” I half shouted, half laughed while gesturing to my twins.
It was at that moment the stars aligned themselves and there happened to be a quiet moment in the busy bowling alley where no pins were being struck down. (What’s the facking chances of that, eh?) The entire building (hell, the city) heard me tell the world my husband likes to play with my hoops.
While his very conservative Christian family tried to pretend they weren’t staring at my chest imagining my sparkly boobs.
I beat a hasty retreat like the coward I am to ‘go to the washroom’ and left my husband to explain about how his wife shouldn’t be allowed out in public to his cousin.
But by the end of the night, I was no longer sad. (Or self conscious thanks to my Sleeman’s.) I was able to remember my son and Boo’s aunt, my friend, without succumbing to the tidal waves of grief that had threatened to drown me earlier.
I was able to laugh and smile. Which honors them more than any snot encrusted kleenex ever could.
Beer and balls. It does a body good.
April 7th, 2008 at 10:40 am
iam very sorry about your losses. I know how hard it is to loose the ones you love. But you gotta try to remember the good not always the bad and I must admit that beer and bowling is a def. good choice. Who doesnt love to be piss ass drunk and bowl a few with some random family members youve never talked to? Good times. Awesome post my dear.
April 7th, 2008 at 11:11 am
Ya know, I bet the tat covered family member thoroughly enjoyed the mental picture of your body piercings. Probably a little TOO much.
April 7th, 2008 at 11:11 am
Oh, honey. Some of the best - BEST - times I’ve had with my crazy family is when someone either was dying or had died. It’s a large part of the reason my 4th is here. I love my big ol’ crazy family. I’m sure Boo’s family loves you, too, tats and piercings and all, even if they wish they didn’t KNOW about some of that. And good for you - AWESOME - for coping, however you needed to.
I took bowling in college for P.E. credit. (swimming, ballet, and aerobics, too, but also bowling). I still bowl about a 68 average. I totally suck.
April 7th, 2008 at 11:11 am
I look forward to hearing you shout out something thoroughly inappropriate this weekend.
I don’t think anyone could not understand your feelings of wanting to be alone with your Bug.
April 7th, 2008 at 11:18 am
I cant bowl worth a shit unless the lane gutter guards are up! Maybe we’re long lost cousins! That’d be me in the helmet with the epileptic fit…
You have to grieve in your own way - noone can fault you for that.
(((hugs)))
April 7th, 2008 at 11:21 am
That is, I think, the magic of having an extended family - people who are still there, even after a 20 year absence.
April 7th, 2008 at 11:22 am
I love this post. My whole giant extended family only really gets together for funerals these days (which is sad in and of itself) - and we always cry big at the funeral but laugh big afterwards. Because we’re a freaky bunch like that.
You’re a treasure. And I love that you only bowled a 44. I always thought I was the world’s worst bowler. Maybe I’m only in the bottom five.
April 7th, 2008 at 11:31 am
i was sad for you when i started reading this Tanis.so much grief and pain and loss but i have to tell you i had a pretty good chuckle picturing your hubby trying to explain about the nipple rings to his cousin…
April 7th, 2008 at 11:38 am
This is EXACTLY what my family did when my grandma died! We all got together and went bowling. And embarassed each other by putting in funny names on the scoring computer like “vagina” “thong” “nipples” (I believe that was my dad). It was so much fun and a nice way to bond with the people left behind.
April 7th, 2008 at 11:47 am
I’m sorry about your loss…and I feel you about opening your mouth at the wrong time…I’m usually the one who offers to show things off when liquor is involved..ruh roh…or bar dancing is another fave of mine..
April 7th, 2008 at 12:00 pm
you know, i missed the part where it says you have to be tough all the time.
you look gorgeous, T. (can’t wait to see you)
April 7th, 2008 at 12:08 pm
You = Incredible Woman
April 7th, 2008 at 12:08 pm
Is there anything beer and bowling can’t do? I thought not. Just think, it was the remedy of Fred and Homer and countless other idols, I mean role models, I mean stinkin’ men in our lives - it helped them find peace and happiness didn’t it.
Oh beer and balls, you can do no wrong.
April 7th, 2008 at 12:56 pm
Wishin I had been a fly on the wall to see that one… anyway, with Boo handing out the cards like that they would have found out about the nipple rings anyway, you just did it with some flair.
Your an amazing woman T, those two are lucky to have had your love. *hug*
April 7th, 2008 at 1:44 pm
First you make me weep. At work.
Then you make me giggle wildly.
My deskmates are looking distinctly nervous right now.
The above poster is right — you are amazing.
Even though I will most certainly hold you responsible when my co-workers haul me out of here and have me committed.
*hugs*
April 7th, 2008 at 2:29 pm
Ah, well, it happens to the best of us. My Hubs comes from a very christian family too, and more times than not I have embarrassed them all and myself by sticking my stylish converse tennies in my mouth. Or whatever oh-so-stylin-shoes, I happen to have on.
April 7th, 2008 at 2:31 pm
BTW, I mistakenly flashed my Hubs uncles my goodies at a funeral once. I never quite mastered setting down in a skirt. Just remember slide in from the side, don’t throw a leg over…
April 7th, 2008 at 2:50 pm
Here I thought I was alone in the ‘knowing what all my shoes taste like after sticking them in my mouth’ department. Nice to know I have great (and hilarious) company
April 7th, 2008 at 2:54 pm
OK - crying, laughing, cringing and giggling… how you do mess with my emotions woman! You are way too talented with your words. I feel your pain - thousands of kms away - like you are my closest friend. Blogs are amazing like that. It’s a wild ride.
Bush Babe
PS I hope you get your “alone time” with Bug soon. Your family probably thought it would be worse to walk away from you in that cemetary, than to be there for you. Grief is such a hard thing to handle, and everyone does it different.
April 7th, 2008 at 3:00 pm
Well if any of Boo’s relatives thought badly of you, they are sadly misled. You are funny, open, genuine and all-out adorable.
I’m glad the beer & bowls helped ease the pain.
XOXO
Jelly
April 7th, 2008 at 3:31 pm
Beer, balls, and nipple rings. Good old fashioned fun.
April 7th, 2008 at 3:37 pm
WEll, apparently, that and nipple rings… Oy.
I swear, I’m gonna give you that hug this weekend, lady - you could use one after all that in one day. Or we could go bowling and you could beat me, because I totally suck, and it might just make you feel better!
April 7th, 2008 at 3:38 pm
That’s one of the best posts I’ve ever read. I cried, I laughed–even in my current bloated and nauseous state.
Thank-you for sharing.
April 7th, 2008 at 4:14 pm
They definitely know you’re one of a kind; that’s a great thing!
April 7th, 2008 at 4:24 pm
Here’s to beer and good friends, tonight is kinda special…whoa I am having flashbacks from the 70s anyone else?
I am glad you got through it and came out smelling like a rose, or sweaty bowling shoes, whichev!?
I know it was suck week, I thought about you and how you were doing!
April 7th, 2008 at 5:49 pm
You have business cards?
For your BLOG?
Oh my god. I am so, so out of touch.
And listen, T. You can’t be any worse at bowling than I am. No, really. I can’t muster up enough courage to stick my fingers in the holes. Just the thought of how many other disgusting fingers have been in those holes makes me shudder (and I know how pervy this sounds, all the “fingers in holes” talk. Shaddup) and I am always afraid that, if I do put my fingers in the holes and toss the ball, my fingers won’t come out and will snap off and break.
I know. I know. I said SHADDUP.
April 7th, 2008 at 5:52 pm
Good restraint on the in-laws. They were only trying to help. But you knew that already.
They should have held the services at the bowling alley. I’m sure Loreen would’ve rather watched all you guys drink and bowl instead of sit and cry.
BTW, I cant get enough of the purple shirt. You need to categorize it.
(Kidding)
April 7th, 2008 at 6:26 pm
hmmm…….. and here I was thinking that conservative christians were the kinkiest of them all! lol
April 7th, 2008 at 7:10 pm
I’m laughing, I’m crying. You’re killing me here. But in a good way.
April 7th, 2008 at 8:45 pm
Tough times call for decent and respectable quantities of alcohol. But you’ve been through a lot and that usually requires indecent amounts. Indecent amounts usually lead to nipple ring conversations… a fact you’re just going to have to live with (and apparently shout from the rooftops about…)
Life is cruel. Scotch is our friend.
April 7th, 2008 at 8:46 pm
And you always seem to be able to make me cry like a little bitch.
I hate that.
April 7th, 2008 at 8:46 pm
Oh, and you’re a hot (looking) bowler… Tell Boo I said so.
April 7th, 2008 at 8:57 pm
T, your strength astounds me.
Your bowling…eh, not so much.
xoxo
April 7th, 2008 at 9:12 pm
Your amazing strength, raw honesty and ability to actually live your life with humour and love despite your devastating loss is awe inspiring. I have witnessed the struggle and pain of a very close relative who lost a son.
The pride and love you obviously have for your children and husband is a true testament to your strength in character, you truly know what is important in life and you do not take anything for granted. Bug was taken from you far too soon but he had you as a mother so we know his life was filled with love, joy and laughter.
April 7th, 2008 at 9:29 pm
I couldn’t think of anything more appropriate than bowling. That is a fantastic idea! And considering I have never been, the thought of bowling shoes makes me want to hurl and I suck at it on the Wii you can come and be my partner.
Cause then YOU will be the star. And I will be the loser. And then we can get drunk on Margaritas and you can tell me all about the wonders of nipple piercing.
Hello relatives!
April 7th, 2008 at 9:39 pm
you lost me at the bowling.
but the rest? jeeeebus sistah.
i am feeling this like ticks all over me. so creepy.
so so sorry. i have hard time crying in front of one or two at a time. i cannot even imag… ohyes, well i can a little bit.
i am so so sorry.
i would love to appreciate your nipple rings.
you know.
April 7th, 2008 at 10:05 pm
I love ya, Darlin!
April 7th, 2008 at 10:08 pm
Going from intense crying to beer and bowling is definitely the sanest way to grieve, I think. *big hugs*
(P.S. Good God, woman, could you be any cuter???)
April 7th, 2008 at 11:18 pm
hey sweetheart its your tat relative you have no idea of the amount of fun that you and boo gave me that night . finally someone in our small family (ha. ha. ) that wont judge me for being the way I am. By the way if the family knew anything about my religous beliefs I would be burn’t at the stake. your a blast
April 8th, 2008 at 1:00 am
Started off in tears of sadness - ended up with tears from laughing so hard!
April 8th, 2008 at 5:59 am
At least your family made it to the bowling alley. We just drink our sorrows away. And let me tell you, there’s a lot of sorrow.
But no one, to my knowledge, has nipple rings. Maybe I’ll adopt you?
April 8th, 2008 at 7:27 am
I laughed, I cried… I think I may have finally found someone that’s a worse bowler than me.
April 8th, 2008 at 8:22 am
That was one of your best posts ever, so raw and full of the emotional ups and downs that life brings our way. Am so glad that everyone came together to celebrate life in such a creative fashion, will have to remember bowling after our next funeral instead of tea and sandwiches
April 8th, 2008 at 8:45 am
As always, I am bawling because of the love and grief that pours out of any posts that make even the slightest mention of your little Shalebug. He was such a luck little boy to have a mommy and daddy who would, and did, do anything and everything to keep him happy and healthy.
In my family of rednecks, we usually go four wheeling after a funeral. Nothing like playing in mud to get the tears to stop.
April 8th, 2008 at 9:15 am
I’m so sorry you had to go through that. My family is Catholic, and there’s only one cemetery (it would seem) that is suitable for Catholics where I come from, so every funeral I go to seems to take five times as long as I wander and visit the sites of my grandparents and other family members. I can’t even imagine doing that for a child of mine.
But, on a less serious note: PLEASE don’t drink that heavily Saturday, or at least that quickly, OK? I’m going to be arriving a little later than the scheduled start (7pm) and would appreciate being able to, you know, speak to you (as opposed to just writing something in black sharpie on the passed out drunk blonde’s forehead).
April 8th, 2008 at 9:33 am
I can’t bowl without the gutter shields up. I thought I was the only one who made an ass of myself at the bowling alley, glad I have you for company!
It is strange how when the one thing no one needs to hear slips out of your mouth, every thing aligns and there is total silence. Happened to me more than once, thanks for letting me know I am not the only one who apparently loves the taste of shoe!!! heh.
April 8th, 2008 at 9:49 am
Love you. Love your blog - love your writing. Love you.
April 8th, 2008 at 11:35 am
You always make me cry and laugh. Take care sweetie.
April 8th, 2008 at 1:11 pm
I’VE ONLY BEEN HERE A FEW TIMES (THANKS TO ROBYN).
I LOVE YOUR CREATIVE WAYS TO WRITE ABOUT THINGS. THIS TIME, YOU BROUGHT TEARS TO MY EYES. I’M SO SORRY FOR BOTH OF YOUR LOSSES.
April 8th, 2008 at 1:31 pm
Beer & Balls.
*snort*
April 8th, 2008 at 2:57 pm
Well done to you. My heart breaks for you, you are brilliant though at masking your feelings and having fun. I nearly pissed myself laughing about the rings and your hubs mortification!! Best wishes
April 8th, 2008 at 3:01 pm
HELLO to all the new family members who are reading!
I love this — you are a star.
April 8th, 2008 at 5:51 pm
Damnit! You make me cry! Then you make me laugh out loud. Then, you make me want a friggin’ drink.
My four words when drunk (as I drape my limp arm around some poor smucks shoulders and breathe whiskey laden mist in their face) are “I love you man!!” Yeah, it’s those beautiful moments that create that lovely look of “You’re a stalker and I’m calling the cops.”
*sigh*
I love you man!
LOL.
April 9th, 2008 at 5:59 am
Two things. One. Don’t beat yourself up. Grief takes a long time to get over, I think maybe when it’s your child it’s a question of getting used to it rather than ever getting over it.
Two. I can raise you on your bowling. I went bowling, got so trashed I had difficulty working out which lane was the real one when I came to chuck the ball down each time and ended up getting two hundred and ninety something. Because I enjoyed it so and wanted to remember more, I elected to drive the next time out.
I scored 32.
The shame!
Finally I reckon the worst bit is when the huge sweaty bloke next to you hands in his bowling shoes, they give them a couple of sprays with the magic juice and then hand them straight to you. No matter how long you wave them around before you put them on, they are still clammy and still warm when you put them one!
Cheers
BC
April 9th, 2008 at 6:30 am
What a Fabulous post.
April 10th, 2008 at 5:15 am
shock and awe babe
shock and awe
April 10th, 2008 at 8:42 am
I should know far better by now not to read your posts AFTER I’ve put on all my makeup for the day. Dammit.
April 11th, 2008 at 10:46 pm
I don’t care how far north you are girl, you’re gonna be on whitetrashmom’s roadtrip.
You.Are.Awesome. You make me cry like a baby but you’re AWESOME.
April 13th, 2008 at 1:17 pm
Humor is healing, yes? Thanks for letting me all in to where you’re at - but doing it in a way that makes me feel comfortable.
You have a gift.
June 6th, 2008 at 1:33 pm
Oh honey, you’ve given me a heavy heart. Reading this part makes my chest tighten and I feel like I can’t breath. To loose a child, I just can’t imagine..but when you describe it I sort of can and it’s just too much. It’ hurts my heart even though I know I’m just feeling a little tiny sliver of a splinter of what you’re carrying. I love your site and I’m so amazed at your strength..