Miss Independent

The friend that Miss Cathy went to visit in the hospital a couple weeks ago died. It was kinda unexpected (at least to me) because the last I heard they were sending Percy home with six months to live. I found out the other morning while we were going about the business of getting the day started. I mentioned that I didn’t sleep very well and Miss Cathy said that she hadn’t either, that she was tossing and turning all night thinking about Percy and whether or not she was going to the funeral.

So, color me surprised that she wanted me to take her to the wake/funeral/whatever; I just assumed she’d be going with Adele-oh well. I can’t say that I was thrilled to have to go to a funeral but then I thought, “I don’t have to ‘go’ to the funeral-I can just drop Miss Cathy off”. I mean, it’s not like I knew the guy or anything.

My rationale is that “if” Miss Cathy were still driving she’d be going alone so why should I feel obligated? I’m just a glorified “driver” anyway. When I drive her over to Adele’s house, I don’t go in, I stay in the car while she visits, so, how is this any different? Granted, the guy is dead but still…… I see this as “me” aiding her in “her” independence-or it’s just a rationalization to justify my NOT wanting to go.

Besides, I’ve got to pace myself, I mean, lets be real here, at Miss Cathy’s age and with the health (or lack thereof) her friends are going to start dropping like flies. Unfortunately, not many of them got the memo that 70-something is the new 60-something. Pretty soon, this is going to become a common occurrence around here, so I need to establish my pattern of behavior right up front. Besides, I do not want to spend all day Saturday sitting in a church and/or funeral home with a bunch of sad, crying black folks that I do not know.

“I’ll make it,” Miss Cathy says the next morning, giving a reassuring answer to a question that nobody asked. Since going to the funeral was her idea you’d think she’d be up and at’m but she was still in bed when I got up at 8:00am. No, “Good morning”, “How’d you sleep?” or any other the other morning staples, just, “I’ll make it.” ……. OK.

After several deep sighs and a few encouraging words to herself she finally got out of bed. Of course I know that it’s all to do with showing me how “hard” going the funereal was going to be for her. “Great!”, I thought, she found a way to make this all about her.

According to the schedule she’d given me the night before we were suppose to have been to Adele’s and on our way to the church by 9:30am but as of 10:00 she was still getting ready so I went out to warm up the car.

I told her last night that I was going to drive her, drop her off and wait. “You’re not coming in with me?” she asked. “No”, I said, “Just think of me as Poke and you’re Miss Daisy”.

“Oh no you don’t”, I thought as she lay there looking sad, small and vulnerable. No way do you get to pick and choose when you want to be “dependent” (like now when you don’t want to do something alone) and then you purport to be “Miss Independent” (when you have to do something you don’t agree with-like going over to Tony’s house).

The mood in the car was a little funereal so to lift her spirits I decided to tell Miss Cathy that Chad was coming to visit next week. She perked right up and for a few minutes she was smiling and happy as we talked about his visit. I learned long ago to find the right time to share news or info with her because whatever I tell her becomes the main topic of conversation for days on end.

Despite the late start I got her to the church on time. It was quite the crowd from what I could see of the cars parked and others pulling into the circle drive of the mega-church. I didn’t know Percy or anything about his life but Quell-turn out! The old guy sure knew a lot of people. Made me stop to wonder how many people you’d get to show up at my funeral, no where near this many and you sure as shit wouldn’t need a place as big as a football field like this one-probably something more along the size of a doctor’s waiting room.

Anyway, I pulled “Roger” (the roll-a-ter) out of the backseat for her and she rolled herself into the First Baptist Church. I asked if she really needed “Roger” because she’d been walking so well with her cane and she said that “Roger” was there so she’s have a place to sit if all the seats were taken inside. Good for you, I thought as I drove away to find a parking space somewhere in the same zip code as the church. If I had a chauffeur’s cap I would tip it.