Thoughts From a Wake

I don't know whose perfume I'm wearing. I quit buying it for myself years ago. But tonight I hugged two cousins, two cousins-in-law, and one aunt. One of them shared her perfume, cheek to cheek. I quite like it.

The occasion was the wake of another cousin, Donald Price Maxson. He was my dad's nephew, and had Daddy been better, both physically and mentally, we would have told him about it and taken him to tomorow's funeral. Don was one of the cousins who came to the family parties Mom used to sponsor in the community room of their apartment complex while she was alive. Unlike many of my other, more distant cousins, I have actual adult memories of him. Most of us have lost touch with each other, or at best exchange a few words at the latest funeral.

I never knew until I picked up the little card on the table at the wake that his middle name was Price. I recognize it, of course, being a family name just like Donald was. Daddy's youngest brother was a Donald, though I don't guarantee that's the person they named him after. There are plenty of Donalds in the world. One less now. But Price was our grandmother's maiden name: Jane Elizabeth Price. Welsh, despite not having seventeen syllables and impossible spelling. I never knew until a relative few years ago that Grandma's first name was Jane. I just knew her as Elizabeth, since that's the name she used: Elizabeth Maxson. It occurs to me finally to wonder if anybody else in this large family is carrying on her name(s).

I got to talk to Bonnie (widow) long enough to find out what had happened. Don's brother Alan had called me with the bad news, so I knew a few details. Don was 77, and as far as anybody knew, in perfect health. He just didn't wake up one morning. I, of course, envisioned Bonnie freaking out waking up next to a cold stiff body, but that's not exactly how it happened. Bonnie told me she went to bed and Don elected to stay up a bit longer to finish watching something on TV. When Bonnie came down the next morning, he was still on the couch, his feet hanging over the side, sitting slumped over. She thought he was still sleeping, and called to him to wake him up. Since he could wake instantly, she knew right away something was wrong, and knew what it was as soon as she touched him.

While still a tremendous and sudden shock, I still think it was much kinder to happen this way than how I imagined it. That could disrupt my sleep for months! A part of me would be wondering just before waking just what I'd find next to me in the bed this time! However, I bet Bonnie would trade that for more time with Don.

When I contrast his death to my father's long, drawn-out process, I think I wouldn't mind so much going the way Don did. True, Daddy has lived longer. But Don enjoyed all the time he did have. Daddy's not enjoying much of anything these days, sticking around not from love of life but from inertia.