It's Been A Year

It's been a year since I received the call at work that Grandma fell and was taken to the hospital.  They don't tell you over the phone someone died.  It's smart to do that so you're not racing down 270 with tears streaming down your face. 

Somehow, though, I knew.  I picked up my husband and he drove.  We sat in silence for nearly an hour to get to the hospital.

And it all made sense.  Not all deaths make sense, but some do.  Her timing, her passing, all seemed pre-orchestrated by a woman who scheduled and managed every last detail in her life.  She didn't sit well with disorganization.  A pattern, a path, a place for everything.  Always.

My mom had just left town the day before - Grandma would not leave with Mom sitting next to her.  And my mom wasn't on one of her regular jaunts across the country with friends.  No, this time she was visiting with her cousins, girls that were practically sisters to her, the daughters of Grandma's younger sister.  It made sense.  So that when I had to make the dreadful call, she was with the women who knew her best and she wouldn't have to keep a stoic facade.  She could break down then and there with the best safety net possible.

They escorted her home and shielded her as we went through the motions of planning a funeral.  Of course little planning was necessary.  My mom is also a master planner and had the funeral home, cemetery, plot, urn, flowers all picked out.  Just roll out the folder compiled years earlier and add a few finishing touches.

I love that I got to sift through Grandma's pictures years ago.  I've scanned them and most of my favorites are from before my mother's birth.  But today, I think I will share the pictures that reside in my memory, the way I remember Grandma - a silver haired stinker.

Just Doing My MOFO FRIGGING Civic Duty (REALLY LONG POST WARNING)

Okay, so all of this fiasco could have been averted had I done my paperwork in the first place.  But in my defense, I thought I did.  I should have investigated when I didn't receive my polling place postcard last week, but I didn't.

So really this is all my own fault, but PLEASE do not remind me of that.  Okay?  Just pat me on the head, feel sorry for my pain and congratulate me on my persistence to do the right thing.  Deal?

As usual I was running late and walked out my front door at the exact minute I should have been waltzing into the doors at work.  Do I vote now?  Or at lunch?  Or wait until after work?  Yikes.  My brain said get it done NOW.  So I pulled my car around the corner, it would have taken less time to actually walk there, and paraded in like this was going to take five minutes.  I breezed past the guys insisting on changing my vote last minute.  I was relieved to see only a few people in line.  Clearly this was TOO easy.

The Crypt Keeper held a magnifying glass in a shaky hand as she slowly flipped through the pages to my last name.  She leaned in and looked closer.  She scanned the page up and down, up and down.  As she continued to fumble I could clearly see upside down a mile away that my name was not on the list.  I should have turned around and left.  But no, I obeyed the old woman who pointed me in the direction of another woman only a mere few years younger.

Woman Number Two wavered on what to do.  She had been trained to deal with this situation, that was clear, but she wasn't sure of herself.  Eventually I filled out an affidavit, but it needed some magical number that can only be retrieved from a phone call to THE BOARD OF ELECTIONS (read that with ominous tones in your head).

She would stare at the number, peck in a few digits, stare at the paper, peck in a few more, screw up, close the cell phone, open the cell phone, stare at the paper, peck in a few digits, screw up... blasted new technology.  Eventually she got the number successfully entered but the damn line was busy.  Close the phone and start again.

A half hour later (as much as I am prone to exaggeration, I was literally timing this ordeal along with frantic calls to work begging their understanding so I can vote in leaders sympathetic to our non-profit cause)  So a half hour later, Woman Number Two, made it through to... HOLD TONES.

In between all of this, she was also performing her duty as distributor of paper ballots for chickenshits too scared to use the touch screen.  This was a backassward system as Woman Number Two would point people towards another table like they should know where to go and say something about the location of the ballots, making the people think they needed to get in line with the guy checking off names P-Z.  As the confused voters meandered toward the line, Woman Number Two would get their ballot, fill out the necessary spots, get a second signature from the P-Z guy and then hand them their papers and point them in a different direction towards booths with her necessary script of how to vote.  Every. time.

ANNNNDDDD... P-Z Guy would intermittently come over to Woman Number Two to sign his magical book of names.  And it would distract Woman Number Two from dialing or neatly stacking her slips of paper...  Finally she got fed up and asked if I could listen to the hold tones of death from the Election Board (said in ominous tones) while she fiddles with the ninety bagillion other requests for her time.

45 minutes after I arrived Woman Number Two finally suggested that maybe it would be best if I went directly to the Election Board and they would allow me to cast my vote there.  She was still on hold as we held this conversation.

Well Hell.

I was not pleased.  I sped off to work, dropped off my computer, relayed my dramatic story to people in authority, received decent directions to an office that is amazingly close (walking distance if I were so inclined - seriously if it's more than two miles away I would be shocked).

Twenty minutes later, most of which was spent standing in line, I was properly registered by friendly, knowledgeable folks closer to my age and had VOTED!

TA DA!

There is not enough chocolate and alcohol for days like this and you know what?  Some blessed soul actually brought in chocolates WITH alcohol in the center.

Sorry my stupidity took so long to read through