Kathleen "Kitty" Louise Cramer, 7/28/1941 to 9/30/2006

While I recognize that this not the best way to tell someone bad news, I am so over talking about this that I will have to inform those of you who care of this in writing. Early last week, sometime in the first hours of September 30th, my mother died in her sleep. While this was not a surprise, it can never be anything but a shock. She has been, as most of you who read this already know, horribly sick for several years now, and I have written many blogs on her litany of major health problems. But in the end it was her heart that did her in. Not the cancer that should have taken her down, that she beat in style. And if there is a silver lining in all this it was that she died in her sleep, a fact she will never have the pleasure of knowing, but one that will help me sleep once I am able to get in a full night again. She had spaghetti for dinner, and a second helping at midnight, easily her favorite meal. She awoke at five a.m. and went to the bathroom, and then went to sleep for good. It would appear that she was totally unaware that she passed at all.

So for the last week I have been in Florida trying to get a handle on her affairs, which were to be honest, a complete mess. Supposedly she left a will, but though we tore the damn place apart looking for it, no luck. She was broke, in debt, and virtually without assests. That means an almost assured future in probate. Yay.

Part of the trip east included a sorting through of her things to decide who wants what. She left little instruction, so all was up for grabs. No one feels comfortable taking things after someone you care about dies because you are so riddled with grief that the idea of wanting anything more than to have another minute with the person is repulsive. Plus, shipping her furniture to Houston is really expensive, which causes another problem. It's not interesting for you to read, so suffice to say that the last week has been draining.

My brother and I also had the task of planning and executing her funeral plans. All we were certain of was that she wished to be cremated. The rest was improvised while trying to capture what we felt her wishes would be. I'm sure she would be a little pissed at the outcome, but she would also have a huge laugh over it. Death is weird. The business of dealing with death is truly bizarre. None of our immediate family is Christian, and I personally am a non believer, so you can imagine how I feel about a service with God in it at all. But we agreed that she was a believer in God, if not a Christian, so I guess I can live with the memorial service. Thankfully my son kept me occupied during the ceremony so it wasn't too bad.

We drove to Florida in part to have a vehicle to bring things back, and partly to have some away time to get my head together. It's a brutal drive with a three year old and a pregnant wife, but it beats the hell out of flying, which I abhor.

We made out return trip in good time, and so I voted to detour in New Orleans, one of my favorite places, and one I have been itching to visit since Katrina. Driving through Mississippi on I-10 gives you a view of what the storm did, at least a little, with many snapped, downed trees, and many blue tarped roofs. But pulling into New Orleans from the west was a shocking sight. As you pass through the Chalmette area along I-10 you see a several square mile are of apartment buildings that are still almost totally destroyed. Windows are out, roofs gone, debris everywhere, dead lawns, collapsed buildings, and not a soul walking around. It was really sad to see this. I wasn't sure if we were going to see stuff like that or not, and it was merely a small chunk of what happened to say the least. The French Quarter goes on as if nothing ever happened, but take just a slight detour into downtown and you will notice the high water mark on the sides of buildings which were easily fix to six feet high. Canal street is a chaotic mess, there are cops everywhere and they seem a little edgy as one yelled at me for no reason. We ended up sitting at the Cafe Du Monde and having a cafe au lait and some beignets. The weather was beautiful, and there was (as always), a guy playing sax and singing on the edge of the cafe. And while I usually find these guys annoying, this time the whole situation was fairly heavy. We strolled around for a little while and it was all strange and bittersweet. The town is one storm away from being done for good and you never forget that while you're there. My mother always wanted to get to spend some time in New Orleans, it suits her perfectly. She has a similar eclectic sort of creativity in her decorating much as the little shops that are dotted throughout the quarter, and she would absolutely love the coffee and food. So we had some for her, tried not to get too pathetic, and then went home.

We all go eventually, but those who love you are never thinking today would be a good one. And despite the loneliness I feel now without her to ever be there for me again (something I may never get over), last Saturday was as good a day as any for my mother to make her bow. She ate like a queen, slept like a baby, beat the misery that haunted her horizon, and had the last laugh. I hope I can be as lucky.

Bye mom. You can't imagine how much you will be missed, or how much I owe you. Without you I might have become... normal. And that's a fate no one should ever have to endure.