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Thursday, May 15, 2008
2:40:30 PM EDT
When it's over
Going to my parents cemetery every day (for short periods) might seem disadvantageous ( read: neurotic). But that is what Briege & I (shades of Stephen King) have been doing. Briege is perfectly at ease making a playground of the dead.
Mom used to go to the cemetery often, drinking it in. I'd just stay by her silently wondering WHY? What could? Now that my parents inordinately complex & individual perculiarities have passed down~pseudo speciation at its best~ I understand.
On bright sunny days, the air there tastes like homemade pudding, warm vanila with nutmeg sprinkled on top.
I leave full.
Written by frankandmary
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Sunday, May 11, 2008
9:56:35 AM EDT
Hearing Stop & Stare ~ OneRepublic
9:00 am call from Ocala
Chicklet: Happy Mother's Day. I know you aren't my Mom, but I need you & love you. You'll always be there for me, right? I'll always be here for you.
Me(thinking complicated adult things like her dad is now dating someone else, & hasn't told me yet, but{Hey, I did break up with him..): Well....
Chicklet: WELL?! Oh. Don't worry about her. I am in the process of getting rid of her.
Me: (Ha Ha Ha silently) Honey, you are 16... just, please, worry about 16 year old things... I love you.
Chicklet: She is almost out the door. I love you. I love you.
Me: I love you too, sweetie.
Y Mother's Day, Interrupted
Over 20 years of Mother's Days without you has taught me that one day of thanks a year is nothing up against the strength, power & tenderness of the position or the woman.
It has taught me that I can choose to adapt unhealthy behaviors over time, until they become close to addictions to deal with loss, or I can just be thankful for the richness & unconditional love we did have.(that meant dropping righteous proprietary anger, took a while, Mom, but...)
I've learned that even a gradual, frightening unveiling of the dark side of nature & disease doesn't have to unfold into a mere tale of sadness, but can bring unannounced moments of luxuriant true awareness, willing sacrifice, & raw love.
I've learned that while it would be easy to condemn some of our Mother/Daughter choices, it is even easier to look at the big sweeping pleasures hidden in the pain. No companionship worth having is without complication.
I've learned I'll never stop missing you, loving you or needing you, sometimes with twig snapping frailty. But in the thin air of fantasy, I can see you young, laughing & dancing wildly with Dad. It is a convenient fiction, & the details flex quite a bit, but the accompanying music is so lovely, almost as lovely as you are.
Written by frankandmary
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Wednesday, May 7, 2008
10:44:06 PM EDT
Hearing Matchbox 20 ~ These Hard Times
Dad was........
How do I begin to thank 400+ online people for their thoughts & concern(combined comments & emails since Dad's passing)? I read every one, some 2-3 times. I used every tissue, sleeve & paper towel in the house. THANK YOU. Not very original of me, but heartfelt. I used to say all that really mattered was that Dad was more important to me than any other thing/person in the world. I lied. I really like how much he matters to 400 other people also.
I enjoy the fact that a guy who always said he was simple & regular has inspired such emotion in a very anti simple/ anti regular world.
I thought I'd never be able to post here again, because it wouldn't or couldn't hit upon my real Dad, I couldn't, not now. I thought about it & felt the essence of the man could never be truly formed in correct words by me again. Then a long time neighbor wrote me this:
Dear Mary,
We were so sorry to hear about your Dad's passing. Frank was a wonderful man who always had a twinkle in his eye. We will miss him. The neighborhood always felt safer somehow knowing that Frank was on his nightly walk, checking the neighborhood for anything askew.
He kept watch for all his neighbors, stopping to chat along the way, he would tell you a funny story always ending it with a joke, or a smile. His eyes would twinkle, he'd give a mischievous smile and be on his way.
Once while we were away at work, he came over and repaired our front steps. He never told us that he did it and it took us a few years to find out. These are the memories that we will remember him by.
Even when we went to visit him and he didn't recognize us anymore, he still had that twinkle in his eye. He was still overjoyed to see us. That part of him still shined through.
We've missed his presence already, and we'll miss him forever.
Perfect.
Written by frankandmary
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Saturday, April 26, 2008
9:05:05 PM EDT
Life passes but the love does not
Francesco - June 27,1921 ~ April 26, 2008
I posted this entry last year for my Dad's Birthday:
Candles & Cognition
Today, my Father's 86th birthday, I wish for him (& everyone suffering from dementia) a day in which he is not confused, lost or frightened.
I wish no one needed to know the man he was, but that the man he is, right now, would be deemed worthy enough of respect, comfort & conversation.
I wish him choices & awareness.
I wish moments of clarity would latch on to the foreground instead of receding into the background.
I wish the freedoms would multiply, rather than come along so infrequently, & escape so quickly.
I wish the emotional & behavioral components fueling dementia would be viewed just AS components, & not as my whole Dad. There is a lot more there, if you take the time to look ;-).
I wish that praise & love weren't so contingent on success & conformity.
I wish compassion for the man of now was easy, & judgment, annoyance & criticism hard.
Some days he slips seamlessly back into the Francesco of years gone by. On days like that, the wounds from the decline in cognitive function don't seem raw, & the confidence of a little girl's Dad is recaptured. He tells me it happens more often when I'm there ;-).
While I love those days, I don't wait around for them to show him love. He needs that everyday, as we all do.
Dad died peacefully & later I held him long enough to know it happened at the right time, in the best way.
Written by frankandmary
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Saturday, April 19, 2008
7:29:05 PM EDT
Hearing The Sickness ~ Disturbed
Intricate decision tree
Spending some time at home today, not feeling so well. Many have asked in email about ~ Cardiac Special Care Program - Saint Barnabas Hospice and Palliative Care~ They are a perfect match for Dad & I. We have had some funny, tender, emotional & honest times lately. I'll admit, some with a desperate edge, detours, adjustments. My friend since middle school, Audrey, who loves my Dad & calls him "Pop," thinks I may have cast Dad in too bright of a light in my journal over time. Quite possible, that.
Over the years I've had people IRL tell me:
Your Father adores you
Your Father lived with you too long
You lived with your Father too long
(Months after I moved out he told me I had to come back, he missed me, hated living alone, & could not take care of everything as I did. I was pissed, then happy he wanted/needed me. Then pissed & happy again, repeat several times)
Your Father is too critical of you
Your Father doesn't like when you (several different things) & says you do it all the time
You are sooo like your Father
You are sooo different from your Father
All true, at times. Sometimes adoration gets replaced with rage when you are very sick, very close or even just aging, aging & you KNOW the deal at the end....
I've always found it totally insulated from reality when people say: You have such a perfect Dad. If I had a Dad like yours, sure, I would (insert whatever they didn't/haven't done for theirs in their own opinion). I tend to describe the essence of what I perceive in those I love in a positive way (Folks have written me emails: You have a lot of patience with Chicklet. She sounds like a pain ). I think doing this largely beats the alternative.
Blame assumes causation, & to my way of thinking, causation is often hard to determine in Life Matters. As an adult, I tend to worry about my culpability, not someone else's. Projecting the embarrassment of your own earned failures onto those close to you is a loss for everyone. It is actually easier for me to find reasons to disqualify myself from being a victim, than it is to always tilt everything so absurdly in my simpy favor.
If you want everyone to take into account the accumulative weight of what you see as your own personal hardships, issues, & responsibilities while judging you, it might be a good idea to do so when considering the actions of those you love/live with, or are closest to also. This is just a personal observation, but I have NEVER heard a person say: My Mother/Father doesn't accept me for who I am or love me based upon my own merits... without that person going into a litany of things wrong with the parent. Hey, guess what? You don't accept him/her very well on his/her own merits/terms either, huh?
I drive Dad crazy & have done many things he disapproves of, but he loves me. Dad drives me crazy, & has done many things I cannot even wrap my mind around, but I love him. Sometimes we show the love in the right way, sometimes not. It's that human thing.
Once you've replaced someone's oxygen 50 times in one day (plus 34 other annoying acts) & that person is cursing, you know they are cursing AT YOU, even if they are looking elsewhere (probably because they cannot stand to look at you anymore ). The human thing.
It took 5 tries(his speaking very weakly) of my thinking he said: It's cold in Hell ? ~ although the idea of burning in heaven, oh never mind ~.( & me like a jerky 15 year old, all sensitive: Daddy, you're not going to Hell. & smoothing his head, hair) before I realized he was saying: It's cold as HELL!
Room system off low cool, blanket on. I think I did that part right......
Written by frankandmary
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Tuesday, April 8, 2008
10:39:52 PM EDT
Hearing Every Breath You Take~Police
Deeds not Words
How to deliver complicated information succinctly? Let's try calm, low key & direct (I've aimed for that all thru this).
Dad is on cardiac hospice & I am guardedly optimistic that matters of importance to others can be put aside since his end of life needs supersede the rest (at least to me & those who love me/him) for the time being. Each day opens up new uncertainty, but Dad is being allowed to take his own silent purposeful stealthy pace, with love & much needed attention, as it should be.
I took a management course years back & was asked what was required to escape disaster? I don't remember what I answered then, but now~
1) Patience(Someone actually asked me{ok, she is young & is always overwhelmed & entitled} if taking care of an elderly person is boring? Don said: Only to people like you ;-0.)
2) Love
3) Unselfishness
4)Time(at his pace, not mine)
5) Understanding
6) A hand to hold( & a teddy bear of mine also)
7) Whispered encouragement
8) More love
9) Knowing you'll never walk the path alone.
I think when you do it right, you may be physically exhausted, but ultimately emotionally enriched.
Written by frankandmary
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Wednesday, March 26, 2008
12:46:19 AM EDT
True Power ~ Intuitively letting go
I've been feeling a little too aggressive at times these last few days, almost malignant. I'm sure a manifestation of my worst fears. I seem to have it under control now, since ~newsflash to Mary~it's not about me, my ability or lack of ability, or my anything else.
My Dad had a good day Saturday. I saw him twice & both times ended with affection & what I have come to call positive leaving glances. He's ok with me, smiling & watching...I'm doing the same over my shoulder, love.
A few hours later he was an admit to the hospital, then ICU, with a potential litany of problems, slowly defining. A few had tentatively eased up a bit, but then veered back vengeful.
I don't want to use the story of Francesco only to more fully explain myself, so I'll just say he'll know how to lead me to do what is best for him.
Dignity is a function of character. Dad has always had plenty of dignity & character. I'm going to honor both. He's been showing me how.
Written by frankandmary
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Tuesday, March 18, 2008
9:18:26 PM EDT
Happy 23rd Birthday to My Favorite Nurse
Don's oldest, Chloe, is 23 tomorrow. She has exciting plans, all day, thanks to her new husband, David. Daddy was not included in these plans (Don: sniffle "my baby" sniffle). Realistically, Don works mostly 12 hour days, so..
Chloe is a very sweet girl, so she felt badly that Daddy was so vocal about being out of the loop of his itty bitty 23 yr old daughter's birthday plans. Suck it up, Don. We are old. They are young. What are we going to do, stand around holding the candle?
Chloe was not born to him 23 years ago, but rather chosen by him 21 years ago. Her mom (Don's future wife) worked for him. A bachelor who was never going to have children because they get sick on boats (not Chloe, she's often been his rider in races), but he was soon following her mom around. Hey, she sure is a beautiful little girl. Can I hold her? Oh, she is so cute. Uhm, why didn't you bring the baby today??? I think your baby likes me better than you (arrogant bast**d).
When Don married her mom he bought Chloe little diamond earrings & asked her to be his daughter.
She whimpered during the ceremony because Don always held her in crowds so he picked her up & she stayed with him thru the vows. Then she said: My Daddy, Yay! Yay, indeed.
Chloe was a quiet, slightly lonely child in grammar school (the anti-Chicklet), & Don decided to throw her a BIG 10th birthday party(anxiety attack for her, fear of being accosted by acquaintances). None of the kids showed up, they really didn't know her.... So Daddy told her there'd been a change in plans & he'd called off the party at the last minute because he wanted to spend the whole day with his sweetheart. Oh, she knew, but loved him more for it. They had a wonderful day, the way she'd rather, just with dad(until now, boo hoo, she's 23 & married. get over it Don).
Chloe lived with Don for a while after the divorce so Daddy wouldn't be lonely. He never ate so many blueberry pancakes with warmed butter (her specialty) in his life. She packed him lunches with I Love You, Dad notes.
People get all fussy & sniffy when you say favorite child(not Chicklet, she says: I know you like Chloe better; sorry I am not going to be that nice all the time just to be first  ), but they are surely the closest in the family.
Happy Birthday to Don's first, perfect, beautiful little girl, all grown up. Your Dad says you taught him to be a good father, a decent braid maker (although they looked crooked in pictures to me) & a supreme doll fixer. He learned to sleep with your 16 stuffed animals, a puppy, a wee wee doll (gives new meaning to wet spot), & to wake on weekends before 3pm. OK, you've never had diapers changed by him, but he did name 3 boats after you; to your Dad, that is true love. And you are truly, deeply loved, always.
Written by frankandmary
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9:10:26 PM EDT
Charming exasperation
So half the readers like commenting in email( & can continue to do so) & the other half keep telling me to put comments back. Ok, I'll try that again for a while. My entry on Mother loss got the biggest response of anything I've ever posted. Not because I wrote it so well, but because everyone has a Mom story in their heart.
Written by frankandmary
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Monday, March 10, 2008
10:56:02 PM EDT
The Mother Club
Am I writing too much? Don't answer. I had a phase one phone interview for a job today & it started out poorly. He wanted to know what I want? Well, I gave an appropriate work related answer, I'd thought, & he seemed exasperated. Asking if all I cared about was work (I'm confused now)? What did I want if I could have anything? Now I am nervous & thinking: uhm uhm & blurt out (never blurt): My mother back(OMG, I lost the job already; he thinks I'm nuts). We were silent & then I apologized.
He: No. No. How old were you?
Me(feeling sooo stupid & unprofessional): 20, but..
He: I was young, too. It makes you strong, you grow.
And then we were off like 2 people who'd met at a self help group.( Warning: Mother content that many people may not feel like visiting)
How she never really fades to the background for long while you try to puzzle out the possible without . A sense of serene order becomes an untruth. All the subjective truths & how they'd surely have changed over time, with error. Now the only err, she left you. Her memory & beliefs become your stand in God. Did you just do something wrong? Hanging head, you should honor her memory.
How both our moms were sick over years, & we were little & worry climbs into bed with you. Even great dads can't mother so you makeshift mother yourself & rock yourself too (his ex wife told him he was autistic because he carried this into adulthood).
You don't realize it at the time, but childhood gives way to forcible early adulthood by way of circumstance, doctor's offices (why he became one{Dr}, why I started volunteering at the Ronald McDonald house a year after my mom passed), hospitals, crying, laundry done wrong by little hands & parental outbursts of misery. Sometimes you help, get very good at helping & other times you think: I can't help you, I need you to help me, & then you can't sleep from the shame of thinking that.
How parts of you are overdeveloped & some never develop. Then afterward people who seem divorced of empathy (but are really just trying to help, you realize years later) say: You have to move on. No sense telling them that you have been moving on, way on beyond your years for years, which is not the same as the Mother loss you will always endure; it does not respond to notions of closure. 80 year olds call for their Mother. So you envy the mothered, but hide it, or motherly needs, not to cause discomfort for others. Who are you going to call? An aunt or a second cousin?; they have meals to cook & work to do & their own children to tend to. You conceal rather than reveal & then people say: She/he is so secretive. Do you really want to know? I'm not emotionally mature enough to word it properly yet, though I want to. Once you have developed that way, you are older & should be over it, so you remain silent once again.
Routine returns & distracting emotional reactions diminish, & so much of the good reveals itself, if you let it. All the pain & low points make you forever vividly remember the passion & high points. My Mother never said: Don't forget me. She said: Never forget how much I love you. I did forget at times, but it was always there, to be picked up again. What a joy. She taught me many lessons in what really matters, because I knew the time was limited. A cup of tea & a story took on the beauty of poetry. I can look back on a series of "little mother/daughter scenes" that capture the essence of my Mother's life. I never brush a little girl's hair without revisiting having done that so many times in the hospital for my Mom. Peaceful.
The parts of me I lost to my Mother's death were much smaller than the parts of her that remain within me. Telling me: You'll get that job. You look so beautiful. ALWAYS wear French perfume if you can afford it (she said that many times lol I wear it every day of my life). Those parts of Mom in me make me strive to be my better self. No matter the number of to-do lists or errands, I stop to watch the birds she loved in the yard, or listen to opera for her (now for me too) & dip fresh Italian bread in cold milk, which she treated as a delicacy.
If I win or succeed or "do right," it is for her. The most amazing things I've seen in life, the first thing I think is: Look, Mom. And she isn't in pain & she can walk & see & smile thru me, so I try to smile more, much more. My heart & mind are never without her, or without: Never forget how much I love you,if only I stop & listen.
After some crumbled tissues & way too much info, he & decided we'd do the phone interview tomorrow.
Written by frankandmary
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