Emotional Rollercoaster, Part Deux
Last I left off, I believe I was still stranded in the Tuxedo Village Delicatessen, desperately asking every new customer for a lift into Tuxedo Park. Yessss, brilliant. You laugh now, but just you wait and see. I had all but given up, and finally settled down with my lovely “Breakfast Special”. The Breakfast Special consisted amazingly of scrambled eggs, sausage, real hashbrowns (like you used to get in the cafeteria in highschool, the ones that look like a rectangle of fried potato yumminess), whole wheat toast AND a cup of coffee! What a deal. My arteries were clogging by the minute. Then a nice gentleman, I don’t even believe I ever got his name, overheard me talking and began trying to help me. He felt terrible, but he had just come from that direction and was going in the opposite direction, not to mention his “cab” of his truck was full with construction materials. He told me some cab companies I could call “from the town on the other side of the mountain” (that would be some speedy service). Maybe I really had the look of a lost puppy on my face, or perhaps it was just simple desperation, but he took pity on me and said he would see what he could do. He went out, cleaned out the front seat of the truck, came back in and told me he would do it. I grabbed my coffee and away we went.
On a sidenote, I do not know why I took the cup of coffee with me. It’s not like I could walk into their house with a styrofoam cup in one hand, and give them a hug with the other. I didn’t even take one more sip of that coffee. It’s probably still sitting in that Man’s cup holder, given the state of the rest of the truck.
As we were driving up to the Tuxedo Park gates, the man turns to me and says “I hope you know where you’re going; they don’t like to let just anyone in. The people in the Park are a little funny.” I told him to say the Turner name, and we were waved in. He turned to me as if to say “I guess you’re legit…”. In the directions, the house was described as the “3rd on the right”. The man miscounted, because I soon found myself knocking on a very dilapidated wooden front door, complete with cobwebs. I was pretty sure that was NOT the house, as it looked as no one had lived there in about 20 years. Yes, sure enough, he took me to the house before and sure enough, that was the Turner’s house. I found out later it is referred to as the “Baby Elephant” in Tuxedo Park, as from the road it looks quite diminutive, but once inside, it opens up immensely. I shouldn’t have been surprised; Jocelyn would have settled for none less. The house spoke to her impeccable taste and elegance. I only wish I could have been there under better circumstances.
I was glad I made it. Her sons were sincerely appreciative to see me, although they did seem to be in a daze, which is to be expected, I suppose. I realized I have not had to deal with death very much in my life up to this point. I had arrived (one of the first..) with a mother and daughter whom I had never met, but got along very well with them. I spent a lot of time speaking with them, and Althea, the wife of one of the cousins, took the three of us upstairs to the room to visit with Jocelyn. This was an experience completely foreign to me. I cannot remember ever being face to face with the dead body of someone I knew well. When my beloved Uncle Herbie passed away, he was in London at the time, where he lived, and I was only able to come a year later for the unveiling of his tombstone (a Jewish tradition which is quite nice actually). Three of my grandparents all died before I turned 1 year old, so I was never confronted with their deaths. The last remaining grandparent I knew, my dear Gubby (my mother’s father) died when I was roughly 13 and I think I was kept far away from the body at that time.
I will never forget walking up those stairs to her room. They had all the windows open in her room, so as to keep it cold, and a towel at the bottom of the door, but it made for this eery approach to the door. The sense of cold lifelessness was palpable. Jocelyn wanted to do everything her own way; on her own terms. Her death was no different, and it gives everyone solace to know she passed in her sleep and in her own way. She wanted to be kept at the house in Tuxedo Park, and she wanted to be in her own bed. I could only make it halfway to the bed before I broke out in tears. She looked just so much like herself, I expected her to jump up and make a grande entrance, like she usually would have done.
Besides being so shaken up by seeing Jocelyn’s body, the whole experience was a positive one. It was more of a celebration of life than anything else, and the fact of the matter is, I hope to stay in better touch with the family even after her passing. It’s ironic, but perhaps we will become as close as we should have been over the years, which never happened before since I was so far away, growing up in Kansas City.
To be continued…again…
