Good-bye Cousin Florrie
JULY 25, 2020
There are crumpled blue masks on the floor in the back of my car. It’s unlike me to be so messy but I’m scared I’ll accidentally put on a used mask and it will kill me.
Speaking of death, one of my mom’s beloved cousins died yesterday. Like the rest of the first cousins, she still lived on the East Coast. Most of her first cousins, which includes my uncle, have remained close throughout their lives. They even have a monthly “cousins club”.
In the past few months, this beloved cousin has had some episodes. It was unclear whether it was some strokes or seizures. But it was clear that she was not doing well. She and I kind of shared a first name. Her real name was Florence, but for as long as I can remember, she went by Florrie. And it was pronounced “Flahrie” which to my ear was distinctly different from how my name is pronounced.
Sometime in the last decade she decided to adopt my spelling for her name. It was another little bond we shared. Throughout the years we kept in touch via Facebook, or the occasional email and every blue moon a phone call.
I get important family news in phone calls filled with information bursts surrounded by comedy IF the news is good. Bad news is delivered via early morning calls with cryptic and vague information. All spoken in whispers and low hushed tones, as if the FBI was listening on the line.
Overall, bits and pieces of family news morphed as in any good game of “telephone”. I have to talk to at least two different first cousins, to confirm any story. And if you are at the end of the line, as in Pacific Standard Time, the story was just that - a story.
Over the years, I’ve learned not to ask too many questions - literally no one was in the same loop! I learned to just “feel” the phone call, did it feel like good news? Bad news? Gossip or a cry for help? Sometimes I’d call my sister and we’d try to compare notes. But, to be honest she didn’t have the decoder ring either.
Florrie was not the first of my mother’s cousins to die. She was among the youngest of the cousins, or as my aunt said today, second youngest of “the bloodies”. I’m not sure there if could be a worse descriptor of the cousins, “bloodies” meaning the related by blood cousins, not the spouses. All I asked was for the age order; was Florrie the youngest of the cousins? It took me a minute when my aunt said, “you mean youngest of the Bloodies?” But, it’s an excellent example of the warped and constant sense of humor, even in the midst of the Saddest Sad.
Florrie was alone in the hospital when she died. I have given a lot of thought to the subject of being alone. I’ve decided that I am not all alone--because I have myself. I have ME. I’ve also given a lot of thought to being alone because during this fucking pandemic, anybody going to the doctor, or into the hospital is guaranteed of being there alone. This might also include dying alone! Dying alone is hardly the “dying peacefully surrounded by family and friends” or “dying peacefully in our sleep” that we all love to read, write and imagine.
When I think about Florrie, most of my best memories are from when we were all much younger and when her mom, and MY mom were still alive. That side of the family is warm, loving, noisy, musical, fun and funny. Maybe even zany.
Florrie also had an amazing capacity for love; for being a caregiver, for being a nurturing mother and an uber-supportive wife. She was a giver, not a taker, and probably to a detriment. She was as funny as she was kind. I know she will be dearly missed.
I like to think that in her last days, when she was alone in the hospital, she was feeling fully cared for. I believe that the nursing staff during these pandemic times recognize the need for human connection, they recognize that patients only have themselves. I like to imagine that Florrie was at ease, relaxed, and felt cared for. I hope she felt a small reprieve and got to feel what it’s like to just let go and let someone else take care of you.
Last night during (online) Shabbat services, I said the Misheberach for her, a prayer for healing. But what I was really thinking was that I hoped she would pass peacefully and without much suffering. And that she was deep in rest and would rest in peace.
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