Cut the Shit

That Dreaded Phone Call

On Monday night, Paul and I were talking about getting that phone call where your life changes immediately. You know the call. “Hi (insert your name here). Are you sitting down? You need to be. So and so has died and you need to come home for the funeral.”

Luckily (if you can call it luck), the phone call I got from my mom this morning wasn’t nearly as dramatic as it could have been. It was more like “Hi Joe. Your Uncle will probably pass away in the next few days. We’ve been given the final notice.” How many final notices are there? I thought he was going to die months ago.

Now, granted, I’m not especially close to this uncle and over the years I’ve never had much of a personal relationship with him. And he’s really sick, has been for a while. He’s also 93. However, getting that phone call, no matter who it’s in relation to, is just sickening.

My mom was amazing about the whole thing. As most of my friends know, and clearly my mother, I just don’t do well with death in any form. As you read, I saw a pigeon dying a slow death on the sidewalk a few weeks ago and for days it made me feel ugly.

So my uncle has decided to pretty much refuse any sort of treatment for all of his various illnesses (Cancer of doom is the nucleus of the problem). It’s his choice and to be honest, my parents and I both feel that this is probably the best way for this to happen; on his own terms.

My first reaction was “I’m not going to the funeral. No one can expect that of me. I just can’t deal with something like that right now.” But the truth of the matter is, I have to go. Using the excuse of “this will be too hard on me” is simply a cop out. And I have to learn to grown some balls and to handle this shit with a bit of courage. I may talk a big game, but deep down I’m still the guy that needs to be held every night before I go to sleep.

While he’s been removed from any sort of life sustaining device (minus an oxygen tube), my uncle could live for another week or so. But is it wrong that deep down I just want him to go now? Is it selfish of me to think that it would be easier for him and everyone involved if he just slipped away tonight? That we could do the funeral on Monday or Tuesday and then try to salvage some sort of Thanksgiving?

We’re talking about my uncle’s life here and for some reason my heart has turned on me and gone into defensive mode. I’ve known that he was going to die for months. But somehow it’s not any easier now that it’s actually happening. And I just want it over with. I don’t want to feel as down and empty as I do.

The concept of death fucks me up. It scares me to an obsessive level. Finality. I just don’t do it. The idea of never seeing or knowing my uncle ever again is scary and frustrating. I didn’t make enough of an effort when he was around (although my brother did – which just makes it worse) and no matter what, it’s now too late to make that attempt. It just freaks my shit out when I think death is truly a reality and one day it will be my own. One day it will be my parents and God forbid, my boyfriend, friends or brother.

I’ve been living in a world without death for so long that it’s hard to imagine it hitting so close to home.

I did have a friend from high school that passed away this summer as well as a friend from Boston that passed away last year. And since then it seems like people are just dying all around me. Slowly, but inevitably.

Life is about that, I guess.

But I don’t know if I’ll ever be to the point where I can handle it with style and grace.