What to read while you wait for someone to die.

I know, it's a flippant title, but somewhat salient, actually. Talking to my sister Kate on Thursday as we made our way to the local mortuary which was really a crematorium place, we talked about the fact that while we are both big readers, we couldn't really do much reading this week. There is the distraction factor, waiting for another sibling to call and give an update of Mom's condition that day (or in the past two hours), which sort of makes it difficult to concentrate on anything remotely serious.  Then there are the emotional and psychological factors that are present when waiting for one's mother to die, which are even more distracting and disturbing and which render one's powers of concentration nil.  And of course, still having to go to work and pretend that all is well.

Kate did crossword puzzles and Sudoku type puzzles. I read trashy novels.  For example, when I got home from work on Wednesday, after having at least five conversations with Kate, Joe and Steve, I sat down and began to read a Robert Parker novel. I read for two hours, made a little dinner and read for another two hours and voila!  The book was finished and I went to bed.  I find that Robert Parker is perfect: very little brain power is required, the characters and plot are simple and there are just enough twists and turns to keep the reader engaged but not too much cerebral stuff to make the reader confused.  Very important. 

Robert Parker wrote dozens of books about the private eye Spencer. He also wrote a handful of books about a cop in a small town on the East Coast, the town was named Paradise and the character named Jesse Stone. Those are also good to read, a little more involved than the Spencer novels but not by much. I read two of those in the past three days.

I think Agatha Christie would have worked as well.  

I couldn't watch TV unless it was mindless, like "Law and Order." Music, no, couldn't listen to anything except old Beatles, stuff I knew well.  This entire past week, from Friday to Friday I was house and dog sitting at a mansion in the Santa Rosa hills and the best part was that it was not mine, none of my stuff was in it, and it had a million dollar mansion view. Sitting and staring was perfect for me. I could not have done that at my place since there is no view and thus, nothing to stare at. 

So the week went by, we watched Mom get weaker and sicker and finally, Thursday, the end.

I hope that soon I can pick up a book, something with substance, and be able to read it. I am sure it will happen.

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