Beet Soup for Breakfast

I've been in Ohio since February 29th. I went believing that the purpose of my trip was to go to my grandfather's funeral and to help my mom. It turned out to be much more than that and I returned feeling inspired and deeply nurtured. Not bad!

One of the things that came back with me is my mom's recipe for borscht. She didn't invent it; it comes from a cookbook called Applehood & Motherpie. However, in the way that such things are, it is my mom's recipe because she is the person who first presented me with a steaming crimson bowl of rich sensory delight and lots of anti-oxidants. The only downside to it is that Wolf doesn't like it (the cabbage did her in) and, so far, the friends I've asked recoiled at the idea of being given some. So, I've a vat of it to get through, solo, hence the title of this entry. Good thing I love it.

The trip was charmed, it seems. I managed to get a $205 RT flight on less than 48-hours' notice. I did have to fly through Atlanta, but on the day of my return flight AirTran unveiled an announcement of new non-stop service from Boston to Akron beginning in June. The Akron airport is equidistant from my parents' homes and much more pleasant than Hopkins, so it seems like a done deal that this will be my new airline and destination. If you haven't flown on short notice before, the $205 fare might not seem like great shakes. In contrast I'll share that Continental wanted $1299 and would go as low as $650 as a 'bereavement rate'. I thought that was hilarious given that, the way I see it, people who are willing to occupy unsold seats at the last minute are a boon--any dollar they contribute is a dollar the airline was prepared not to receive. Getting shirty with said travelers seems a bit like looking a gift horse in the mouth and charging him for a dental examination.

It was more absurd when I considered the rates in terms of resources consumed. A flight from Boston to Atlanta is longer than a flight from Boston to Akron, so a person flying from Boston to Atlanta to Akron consumes more fuel, more cleaned air, and (potentially) more liquid refreshment than a person flying directly from Boston to Akron. Yet, the latter flight price was six times that of the former. Ah, well. New Math devotees must have done the rate calculations for Continental. Perhaps that's where the 'fuzzy' folks from Bush's last campaign wound up.

Once there, I spent a couple of days with my dad and stepmom (D & V) and visited my brother's family before my mom came up to get me on March 2. It was the first time D & V had seen me since my band got 'turned on' and they were stunned by the difference in my appearance. Funny how much difference 53 lbs can make. It was especially great because we got to put closure on the strife we shared just before I went to France. We each accepted the other's humanness and all agreed that result of the surgery is my improved health. Can't ask for better than that!

Mom was reeling from some really unpleasant family dynamics stuff. When she found out that BD was dead, she rushed down to Hilton Head to get there before my aunt A did. A was en route, via car, from CO and had not heard the news. She and her husband, C, were just going for a visit. Mom and my stepdad (M & J) arrived a few hours before A & C did. They were met with a house that was pretty messy. In the final couple of weeks his energy just didn't allow him to clear up clutter and he was determined not to have hospice come in. Family members had been flowing in pretty solidly since early Fall and there were few gaps where he didn't have someone there. One of the gaps was in February and the house reflected it. Worse, he really hadn't let anyone into his bedroom and bathroom to clean in a couple of years. They were pretty gnarly. And, of course, death is not exactly a pristine event. So, needless to say, it would have been a shocking thing to walk into if you had no clue that he'd died.

M & J cleaned up the death scene and scrubbed the master bathroom and cleaned the bedroom. They decided to sleep in that room rather than make A & C do it when she would be processing the loss in real time and they'd already had a couple of days. Plus, Mom is the big sister, you know?

A & C arrived and it turned out that my uncle D had left a message with their housesitter and they'd found out on the way down. Still, it was fresh. D and his partner, S, arrived the next day, I think. The days were filled with the processes of wrapping up a life and A, as executrix, was clearly feeling overwhelmed but she pushed on. For a while, they did ok, which is saying something. It's not a large house and there were six adults, half of whom had just lost their remaining parent, and two large dogs staying in it.

A & C managed the difficulty with the aid of a lot of alcohol, C starts drinking shortly after breakfast, and, in A's case, Xanax as a chaser. Not an auspicious combination in the best of circumstances, and most certainly a challenge during difficult ones. As the week wore on, the distortions grew and the frequency of apparent blackouts increased. M was in the target-worthy position of being the healthiest of her peers and they applauded her growth and healing by projecting their pain and rage on her. It got as ugly as it could get and then M & J realized that they could simply choose to leave. So, they did.

The ugliness was enhanced by BD's habit of telling different stories to different people, sometimes different stories to the same person. He had multiple versions of history stockied in his memory and his internal librarian seemed to hold the catalogue, selecting supporting tales to accent the mood of the moment. No one escaped his harsh judgment and ill-fitting accusations, not even his lady-love, M. Those of us who knew and loved him just took his comments and stories about other people with a large pinch of salt and moved on. Unfortunately, A and D seemed not to have extended that courtesy to M or her children. Apparently we are all ungrateful and were only after his money. This seemed particularly amazing to me in light of the fact that BD and Gran told me when I was a teenager that they planned to leave nothing to their grandchildren. Their plan was only to divide their estate between their children equally. It was quite clear and quite simple. There was no rancor in it. So, it's hard to see how I could be accused of trying to ingratiate myself in hope of a bigger piece of the pie. However, since logic wasn't an invited guest at the proceedings, the judgment was allowed to remain in place. Oh, well. This came from an aunt who has never made any effort to be an aunt and whom I have not seen in more than twenty years, so learning that she thinks I'm a false-hearted gold digger is a bit too abstract to sting.

Needless to say, it was a much-battered mom who arrived home and my goal was to be part of the circle of love and truth surrounding her so that she could get about the business of dealing with her father's death. My own needs in that department had really been met by the trip my sister and I took to visit BD last fall. It was perfect in every way: BD was open and loving, in a state of grace. We were able to connect and say good-bye. I had closure. His actual death was not traumatic to me. I was glad that he got to go on his own terms. I was glad we'd talked recently. He gave me a nod from the other side. (I'll post about that another time.)

So, I did what I could and the result was an extremely loving visit, heart-to-heat sharing, and increased intimacy. And, looking at the clock, I'll have to write more about it later.

~M

Copyright 2004 Seasmoke All rights reserved.