Chapter 11: Too Much.

September 3, 2025

Today had just about everything in it.

The kids are now back in school and the weather has been beautiful this week, so Dad and I decided to take my cousin to Drumheller for the day. It was a pretty early start to the day, but the sun comes up so early in Edmonton in the summer months, it didn’t feel so bad. My cousin sat in the front seat to chat with dad. Sadly, I brought my laptop as I’m working on a project bid that is due…erm…tomorrow. I’ve pretty much cancelled everything else work-related on my calendar for the next week or so, but this could be a fairly lucrative piece of work – for me, anyway – so hello, Word.

We had barely left city limits when dad’s phone rang and he asked me to take it. It was one of the doctors from the hospital. Mom’s autopsy is done and he wanted to call with the results. But I’m distracted with thoughts. Earlier this summer, I started re-watching the Canadian tv show, Da Vinci’s Inquest. I loved that show when it first came out in the 1990s and was pretty excited to see it pop up on our streaming service. It’s about the coroner’s service in Vancouver, so a lot of the scenes feature actors playing dead bodies “in the field” or in the morgue. And now I think about mom. I guess she has been in a freezer compartment of some kind this whole time – and that fills me with horror and guilt. Is she lonely? Was her body been treated with care the whole time we haven’t been there? Were workers from that unit using black humour around her to get through their day? I don’t want to think about it. I’m so glad she’ll be out of there soon. To be burned up into ash. God, what a wish. I’m grateful that everything has been done so quickly – now, we’ll definitely have mom’s remains back in time for the funeral on Friday. But I have to get through this call first.

This is a very nice doctor, very glad he has a caring bedside manner as they call it. He is very patient with all of my questions.

Mom suffered an aortic dissection. Never heard of that, so naturally I turn to Dr. Google for the blunt reality while the doctor is giving me the gentle version. The online descriptions are gruesome. But the doctor assures me that – apparently in mom’s case, it was over before it started and there was no time for her to feel any pain. So there was nothing dad or anyone else could have done. I guess that sinking feeling in my stomach the second the phone rang wasn’t inaccurate. I now have questions about why EMS and the emergency room staff put on such a show for more than an hour if she was already gone, but I hold my tongue. I don’t think I want…or can handle…the answers to those questions just yet. Maybe one day I’ll be ready to ask someone.

The most important part of the call is when I ask questions about what this means from a genetic perspective – do my sister and I have anything to be worried about? The doctor says no – mom had two risk factors. The first was being over 60 (60??!!! That’s not that far away!!!). The second was having a history of high blood pressure – that was definitely a struggle for mom…seems like she had been medication for that for forever….and she would still have higher than desirable readings.

After I hang up, I tell dad we’ll talk about it later. He’s driving now, now isn’t the time for this particular bit of information-sharing. My cousin does his best to distract dad and me with his usual antics – and we have an awesome day at the museum, the Hoodoos, and the swinging bridge. But mom’s not in any of the photos….again. It is so weird trying to have a good day without her here. It just feels – off. We all feel it but we don’t talk about it. We still have a long drive home. No point in us all collapsing into tear puddles now.

Traffic is really bad getting back into town and we are about 30 minutes behind schedule when we finally land at my house. I scarf down dinner in about 5 minutes and then have to get back in my car to get to the church for the music rehearsal with the lead musicians. I’m back on autopilot and am pretty surprised at how well I’m able to hold myself together talking about the hymns that are going to be played and sung and my mother’s funeral. My mother’s funeral. I guess I don’t feel anything because this isn’t quite real yet. Everything sounds beautiful – we get through rehearsal just fine but the second-last piece is where we all kind of lose it. “Song of the Angels” is a short hymn that will be sung as the priest blesses the urn just before the Mass finally ends. The words hit us all – and hard. There’s no denying it now. Mom is gone.

As we get ready to lock up the church and leave, my friend who will serve as leader of song asks me how I’m doing. I tell her that my personal breakdown has been scheduled for Saturday. She laughs and says that sounds very me. But now I’m starting to wonder if I can actually hold out that long. I am very tired. This is all a little too much.

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