I have my annual check-up at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN, tomorrow. I'm sure everything will be fine, although last year they found an enlarged lymph node in my abdomen that had to be biopsied. It turned out to be nothing; they labeled it "Reactive Lymphoid Tissue." When I asked what it was reacting to they said they had no idea. The only two people who knew anything about this were Doug and Ron. Mom was sick last summer, and I didn't want to bother or worry her or Dad. When the biopsy was over and I got the preliminary results, I lay in the recovery room and cried. I didn't mean to, but the sobs just erupted. All I could think was that I wouldn't have to tell Mom.
Pray that all goes well for me. I have to leave home at 4:30 tomorrow morning to get all the tests done before I see the urologist.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, 28 June 2010 -- Day 190 (203)
Do you ever turn on the radio or the TV and a song or movie comes on that perfectly reflects your mood? I just finished watching Daisy Clover w/ Natalie Wood and Robert Redford. The movie has a lot of messages, but the one that spoke to me the loudest was getting what you've always wanted, but the price is being forced to do what other people tell you. In other words, you can have your dreams come true, but in the process you lose your Self. I don't really know Mom's dreams, or if in attaining them she lost her Self in the process. Today was one of those days when I lost sight of what I'm working toward. The problem w/ dreams is, what do you do when you achieve them, and once you achieve them is that enough?
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Sunday, 26 June 2010 -- Day 189 (202)
I talked w/ Dad about "Susie's" phone call from earlier in the week. I asked him what he thought about my idea to write an editorial for his local paper; he didn't think I should so I won't, but I'd really, really like to. Maybe I'll still write it for my own sanity and call it, "Susie, the Good Samaritan." I know we call any person who acts kindly and unselfishly toward another person a Good Samaritan, but Jesus's parable talks about one act of kindness toward one person. Okay, the Samaritan left money for the injured man's care and then checked on him again on his way back through, but I see this as one act. Susie has done so much more for Dad than one act of kindness, and she said she doesn't wake up each morning thinking, "What good thing can I do for Don Miller today." Like a couple of nights ago, her parents and her in-laws were at her house grilling hot dogs and brats. Susie called Dad up and invited him out. This goes way beyond one simple act of kindness so I guess I'll have to call my editorial, "Susie the Saint."
On another note, I was walking Kea tonight when I passed a young girl riding her scooter. I recognized the girl as belonging to the family to whom we gave a couple of bags of clothes and a used bicycle. I greeted her w/ a cheery, "Hello there," and I sounded just like Mom. This was how we used to greet each other on the phone. She'd answer the phone and I'd say, "Helloooo there," to which she would respond in kind. So many times that cheery greeting gave me hope. Even when I was feeling scared and sad that bouncy, "Helloooo there," would pick me up.
On another note, I was walking Kea tonight when I passed a young girl riding her scooter. I recognized the girl as belonging to the family to whom we gave a couple of bags of clothes and a used bicycle. I greeted her w/ a cheery, "Hello there," and I sounded just like Mom. This was how we used to greet each other on the phone. She'd answer the phone and I'd say, "Helloooo there," to which she would respond in kind. So many times that cheery greeting gave me hope. Even when I was feeling scared and sad that bouncy, "Helloooo there," would pick me up.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Saturday, 26 June 2010 -- Day 188 (201)
Today was truly an Iowa summer day, hot and humid. I mean really HOT and really HUMID. The kind of day that is oppressive on the lungs of an asthmatic like myself. This was the kind of day that Mom always called close, meaning that the air is so heavy you can just feel it pressing against your body. Kenzie had two softball games again today so I was able to enjoy this closeness up-close! Even while sitting at these games I knew I could go home to a cool shower and an even cooler, air-conditioned house. Yet even w/o central air as a child, I survived similar sweltering days. I didn't take showers back then, I always took bathes, and in the summer Mom taught me how to add baking soda to my bath water to make it more refreshing. I only took baths on Saturday nights, and on the other nights I'd give myself what Mom called a sponge bath, putting some water in the bathroom sink to wash off my face and arms and a little water in the bath tub to wash my feet.
Saturday night was special w/ the cool, refreshing baking soda bath and my summer jammies. They were of the lightest cotton, and being able to wear short bottoms w/ elastic around the legs and a loose-fitting top w/o a bodice or waist was almost like wearing my birthday suit to bed. Scandalous! After my bath, I'd take my Hershey's chocolate bar (we only got one candy bar a week), lie down on my tummy in front of the TV, and watch The Lawrence Welk Show. I know, I was a wild one in my youth. When it was time for bed, Mom would bring down the quilts and pillows and make a bed for us on the living room floor so we could sleep downstairs in front of the fan where it was cooler. I usually woke up w/ a stuffy nose, but it was worth it b/c it only ever happened a few times during the summer when the conditions were just right.
The nice thing about hot, humid days, aside from helping the corn grown, is that they usually brought on thunder storms w/ lightning brighter than the light of ten thousand camera's flash bulbs and the promise of cooler temperatures in the morning. We had one of those storms tonight so for awhile tomorrow it should be cooler, but in true Iowa fashion, it will probably be hot and humid again tomorrow. I love summer!
Saturday night was special w/ the cool, refreshing baking soda bath and my summer jammies. They were of the lightest cotton, and being able to wear short bottoms w/ elastic around the legs and a loose-fitting top w/o a bodice or waist was almost like wearing my birthday suit to bed. Scandalous! After my bath, I'd take my Hershey's chocolate bar (we only got one candy bar a week), lie down on my tummy in front of the TV, and watch The Lawrence Welk Show. I know, I was a wild one in my youth. When it was time for bed, Mom would bring down the quilts and pillows and make a bed for us on the living room floor so we could sleep downstairs in front of the fan where it was cooler. I usually woke up w/ a stuffy nose, but it was worth it b/c it only ever happened a few times during the summer when the conditions were just right.
The nice thing about hot, humid days, aside from helping the corn grown, is that they usually brought on thunder storms w/ lightning brighter than the light of ten thousand camera's flash bulbs and the promise of cooler temperatures in the morning. We had one of those storms tonight so for awhile tomorrow it should be cooler, but in true Iowa fashion, it will probably be hot and humid again tomorrow. I love summer!
Friday, 25 June 2010 -- Day 187 (200)
While in WalMart tonight, Maddy saw some hair rollers. She's mentioned several times that she'd like to try putting her hair in rollers, and each time I tell her that Grandma Miller had a whole bunch still in the cupboard beneath the bathroom sink. She doesn't want them. Thinking that she didn't want something of Grandma's that she regularly used, I told her that Grandma hadn't used them in years. She still said, "No." She even has made the transition to calling it "Grandpa's house" rather than "Grandpa and Grandma's house." I'm a little concerned that the girls don't talk about Mom. I thought they'd occasionally recall memories, but they barely speak her name. Is that normal for teenage girls to seemingly forget the grandmother who made them matching dresses and helped them sew quilts and bake bread and read to them? Is it just to painful for them still? I need to talk w/ them about this.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Thursday, 24 June 2010 -- Day 186 (199)
Just got off the phone w/ Dad. He's thinking about going to the Butler County Fair tomorrow; the same fair where he and Mom had their first date in 1947. They continued to go the fair for many, many years after that, both w/ and w/o us kids. That fair is where I learned to count-back change by working at the Amvets' food stand located right underneath the Grand Stand. This was a family event b/c Dad was a member of the Amvets that usually started our day at the fair. The only other memory I have of that fair is seeing one of those freak shows where the barker lures you in to see some weird phenomenon of nature. I think this one was something like "The Snake Man." I walked up the entrance ramp of the carnival wagon w/ my friends, all of us giggling and a little wary of what we'd see. Once we were gathered inside, a curtain opened behind a glass-encased window revealing the filthiest man I'd ever seen. There were snakes all around and all over him. It was one of those situations where you're so disgusted that you can't take your eyes off it. We stopped giggling and stared until the curtain closed and we fled, looking over our shoulders expecting him to be chasing us w/ one of those snakes.
I don't think they have these kinds of freak shows anymore, at least I hope they don't. Even if they did, Dad wouldn't check it out. He's going to grab a burger, probably from the Amvets' stand and walk through the animal barns. I'm not sure if he and Mom ever rode any of the rides on the Midway. Dad doesn't like heights, but I think they went on the Ferris wheel to impress Mom. I've seen pictures of them at the fair, so young and eager w/ their whole lives ahead of them. I'm really proud of Dad for going back to a place that obviously holds so many memories of Mom. I'm not sure I could.
I don't think they have these kinds of freak shows anymore, at least I hope they don't. Even if they did, Dad wouldn't check it out. He's going to grab a burger, probably from the Amvets' stand and walk through the animal barns. I'm not sure if he and Mom ever rode any of the rides on the Midway. Dad doesn't like heights, but I think they went on the Ferris wheel to impress Mom. I've seen pictures of them at the fair, so young and eager w/ their whole lives ahead of them. I'm really proud of Dad for going back to a place that obviously holds so many memories of Mom. I'm not sure I could.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Wednesday, 23 June 2010 -- Day 185 (198)
I didn't sleep well last night so I'm writing earlier today to see if getting to bed earlier helps. Arrested sleep patterns is an unexpected side effect of the mourning process. Even though I've read that grieving impacts sleeping habits, I didn't think I would experience this part of grief. I've always been one who falls asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow, but not lately.
I know part of my weird sleep habits is due to my daughters' softball games, which causes me to write later at night. Sitting at all those softball games has given me a positive side effect.....a killer tan, except for the raccoon eyes. Thus, to even-out the coloration on my face, I decided to watch Maddy's game this afternoon w/o sunglasses. That lasted about five minutes before I could no longer keep my eyes open, and the sunglasses went back on. I remember Mom telling me that she always had this problem too. Most of the outdoor pictures taken of her as a child show her w/ either closed or squinting eyes b/c she couldn't look into the sun. My girls have the same difficulties, which is probably why Kenzie has a sunglasses collection that consists of nearly a dozen and a half pairs, and Maddy's collection is close behind.
The sun may be hard on my eyes, but it has been wonderful for my herbs and flowers. In fact, I noticed while weeding one of my flower beds the other day that I have a beautifully developing mum plant. After 10 years of trying, a mum has finally graced my bed. Mom was the Mum Master and had an amazing assortment of them in front of their house. Since 1999 when we moved to this house, I've tried to get a mum to take hold. I've planted them in different parts of my yard, but nothing seemed to work. Finally, last summer I told Mom that I was done trying to grow Mums. And now during this first summer w/o her, a mum is growing in my garden. I have no doubt who helped it along.
I know part of my weird sleep habits is due to my daughters' softball games, which causes me to write later at night. Sitting at all those softball games has given me a positive side effect.....a killer tan, except for the raccoon eyes. Thus, to even-out the coloration on my face, I decided to watch Maddy's game this afternoon w/o sunglasses. That lasted about five minutes before I could no longer keep my eyes open, and the sunglasses went back on. I remember Mom telling me that she always had this problem too. Most of the outdoor pictures taken of her as a child show her w/ either closed or squinting eyes b/c she couldn't look into the sun. My girls have the same difficulties, which is probably why Kenzie has a sunglasses collection that consists of nearly a dozen and a half pairs, and Maddy's collection is close behind.
The sun may be hard on my eyes, but it has been wonderful for my herbs and flowers. In fact, I noticed while weeding one of my flower beds the other day that I have a beautifully developing mum plant. After 10 years of trying, a mum has finally graced my bed. Mom was the Mum Master and had an amazing assortment of them in front of their house. Since 1999 when we moved to this house, I've tried to get a mum to take hold. I've planted them in different parts of my yard, but nothing seemed to work. Finally, last summer I told Mom that I was done trying to grow Mums. And now during this first summer w/o her, a mum is growing in my garden. I have no doubt who helped it along.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Tuesday, 22 June 2010 -- Day 184 (197)
Well, if the dream about Mom’s severed foot wasn’t weird enough, last night I dreamt I was at Martin Luther King’s presentation of his I Have a Dream speech. The speech, however, didn’t take place at the Lincoln Memorial but rather at the college where I teach, but the rooms were slightly different. Using www.dreammoods.com, I found that dreaming about classrooms means I'm learning something about myself and experiencing personal growth.
Once I was in the room where MLK was to speak, I was walking around policing the area when I saw some men holding large rocks. I told them that they had no right to act this way toward Dr. King, and I took away their rocks. I must have been quite convincing b/c they acquiesced w/o argument. As I directed my attention to the speaker, I realized it wasn't Dr. King but was instead one of my students dressed in a bathrobe, and he was doing his presentation on King’s life. Since there were only men in this dream, the website says I need to acknowledge my authoritative and aggressive side.
Here's my interpretation of the dream. I’m guessing the dream took place at the college b/c last night while at Kenzie’s softball game I told three little boys that they needed to play outside and stop running around the inside of the college. The boys then started throwing small rocks at each other. I think these small boys w/ small rocks became the men w/ large rocks in my dream. Interpreting the meaning of the student doing his presentation in his bathrobe is a little more complex. The student in the bathrobe shows vulnerability while the topic on which he spoke shows a concern for social justice, and I think I know where that’s coming from.
I received a phone call yesterday afternoon from a young woman, I'll call her Susie, who has befriended my father. Now if your mind immediately assumed this means he has a girlfriend then shame on you. She is a married, mother of three young children who has shown only kindness and friendship to Dad when others, including family members, have avoided him. Susie called me b/c she had been told about some gossip circulating around my hometown saying she's Dad's girlfriend and that she's just trying to get into his will. Why do people have to do that? Are their own lives so boring and pathetic that they have to invent stories about other people? This is exactly what I hate about living in a small town. Susie called me to make sure that I was comfortable w/ her bringing Dad food and inviting him out to their house to grill steaks and dropping by to visit him when she picks up her children from daycare. I told her that I am so grateful for her and her friendship w/ Dad. Not for a minute did I ever consider her to be a gold digger. Damn the people who have suggested such a thing.
I think my dream was telling me that I need to take a stand and not allow this gossip to continue, but I don't know how to aggressively dictate a rebuttal w/o hurting Dad in the process. I thought about writing an editorial to my hometown newspaper, but Dad has no idea that these rumors are circulating, and he reads the paper, front to back. So for anyone who's reading this and knows my dad, please don't mention any of this to him. But I would welcome any feedback about how I should handle this, or if you know the originator of these hurtful rumors, please tell me so I can go directly to the source.
Like Susie said she's more sad than mad about all this b/c Dad has become a part of her family's lives. She looks upon Dad as a grandfather, and her kids love him just like a great grandfather. I know Dad would be devastated if this little family were to suddenly disappear from his life. I am so pissed and frustrated and very, very sad.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Monday, 21 June 2010 -- Day 183 (196)
I had such a bizarre dream last night that I've been questioning all day whether I should even write about it. But I have to deal w/ all my feelings and actions and reactions if I'm going to survive this mourning process. I dreamt that I was holding Mom's right foot in my hand. It had been severed from her leg and showed signs of decomposition b/c it was a grayish color and also pinkish along the jagged cut marks. I held it up to her, and all she said to me, or at least all I remember, is that I needed to file the middle toe's nail down more. What does that mean?
The last time I attempted to touch Mom's feet was the night she died. I lifted off the blankets of the hospital bed to rub lotion on her feet and massage them, but she let me know that she didn't want her feet showing. I interpreted this to mean that she was embarrassed at how her toe nails looked. But that can't be right. A woman on her death bed isn't thinking about what her feet and toe nails look like, is she? Very disturbing dream.
The last time I attempted to touch Mom's feet was the night she died. I lifted off the blankets of the hospital bed to rub lotion on her feet and massage them, but she let me know that she didn't want her feet showing. I interpreted this to mean that she was embarrassed at how her toe nails looked. But that can't be right. A woman on her death bed isn't thinking about what her feet and toe nails look like, is she? Very disturbing dream.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Sunday, 20 June 2010 -- Day 182 (195)
Today is my 18th wedding anniversary. Mom was usually the only one who sent us a card. Ron sent a card this year. Thank you, Brother, for remembering and knowing that I'd be missing Mom a little more today. Doug and I were married in a small ceremony w/ just our parents and the justice of the peace standing on a peninsula of Lake Ahquabi in Indianola, Iowa. Mom made my dress, a simple ivory satin tea-length. She also made my bouquet using flowers from her garden including the small pink flowers whose only name I've ever known as Mom's Mother's Flower. I don't even know if that means her biological mother or the mother who raised her. Mom served as the witness on our marriage license.
Other tidbits of thoughts and memories of her creep into my conscience at the most unusual times. I was making a white sauce for dinner tonight and while stirring it I was reminded of the first time I made vanilla pudding from scratch. I'd received the recipe in my junior high home economics class and made it one night for dessert. I was so proud when she used the same recipe for her raisin creme pie. It wasn't even my recipe, but I had brought it to her and in my young mind that was as good as ownership. Mom was always so complimentary toward all my cooking and cleaning efforts whether they really deserved them or not.
Other tidbits of thoughts and memories of her creep into my conscience at the most unusual times. I was making a white sauce for dinner tonight and while stirring it I was reminded of the first time I made vanilla pudding from scratch. I'd received the recipe in my junior high home economics class and made it one night for dessert. I was so proud when she used the same recipe for her raisin creme pie. It wasn't even my recipe, but I had brought it to her and in my young mind that was as good as ownership. Mom was always so complimentary toward all my cooking and cleaning efforts whether they really deserved them or not.
Saturday, 19 June 2010 -- Day 181 -- (194)
I frequently get one song stuck in my head throughout the day. It may momentarily be silent while my mind becomes otherwise engaged, but as soon as the engagement is over that one song of the day returns. The song for today was Tim McGraw's, Live Like You Were Dying; not b/c I'm a big fan of country music, but it was on Mackenzie's radio when I went upstairs, as I've done every morning for 17 years, to check on my daughters. I'm not sure when I developed this fear that something may have happened to them during the night. It probably started way back when they were babies, and I worried about Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS). I guess it's doubly ironic then that this Tim McGraw song was playing on the radio this morning as I assured myself that my daughters were still breathing, and as I questioned whether Mom lived like she was dying.
When we received the first prognosis that she only had two to three years, did she start living like she was going to die, or did she live to keep from dying? The former accepts the prognosis and sets about fulfilling a "Bucket List" while the latter rejects the prognosis and sets about doing all she can to outrun death. I think Mom wanted to do the former, but we made her do the latter. Looking back I believe she had her own private Bucket List b/c deep in her heart, several years before the fatal prognosis, she set about doing some of the things she always wanted to do. At age 75 she finally rode in an airplane. It was only a 20-minute ride at a 4th of July Flight Breakfast where I live, but she flew. At age 76 she took an Amtrak trip w/ Dad to California to visit her cousin, Evelyn, w/whom she was raised . There's a certain symmetry in that train trip. The first time she saw Evelyn a train brought her from Colorado to Iowa, and the last time she saw her a train brought her from Iowa to California. I think Mom knew that she had to live like she was dying before the doctors confirmed that she was dying. B/c once that confirmation came, all the rest of us cared about were the surgeries and treatments that would keep her alive even though she wasn't living. I look at the pictures taken in the last year of her life and realize there's no spark, no life. Sometimes I wonder if all the medical treatments actually lessened her quality of life and made her last year less enjoyable than if we'd just accepted the reality and enjoyed every day we had w/ her. Just now a single-engine plane from our small airport flew overhead. Could very well be the same one Mom rode in.
Tim McGraw's song is a reminder for all of us to enjoy every day as if we were unsure if there would be a tomorrow. But when the reality that the number of Mom's tomorrows was truly limited, we became more concerned w/ prolonging her life rather than sustaining her happiness. All living creatures possess an instinct for self preservation, which is necessary to keep the race or breed going, and Mom fought to live for us. From the time of her lung surgery three years ago, she lived in pain b/c she knew we weren't ready to let her go. I guess we needed a gestation period, of sorts. Expectant parents use that time of development to prepare for the arrival of their newborns. Expectant mourners of cancer patients should use that time to develop a plan for living and not just a plan to keep from dying.
(NOTE: I'm posting this on 20 June b/c on the 19th I was prolonging my happiness through memories of watching three softball games, spending time w/ visiting relatives, and celebrating our 18th wedding anniversary w/ my husband.)
When we received the first prognosis that she only had two to three years, did she start living like she was going to die, or did she live to keep from dying? The former accepts the prognosis and sets about fulfilling a "Bucket List" while the latter rejects the prognosis and sets about doing all she can to outrun death. I think Mom wanted to do the former, but we made her do the latter. Looking back I believe she had her own private Bucket List b/c deep in her heart, several years before the fatal prognosis, she set about doing some of the things she always wanted to do. At age 75 she finally rode in an airplane. It was only a 20-minute ride at a 4th of July Flight Breakfast where I live, but she flew. At age 76 she took an Amtrak trip w/ Dad to California to visit her cousin, Evelyn, w/whom she was raised . There's a certain symmetry in that train trip. The first time she saw Evelyn a train brought her from Colorado to Iowa, and the last time she saw her a train brought her from Iowa to California. I think Mom knew that she had to live like she was dying before the doctors confirmed that she was dying. B/c once that confirmation came, all the rest of us cared about were the surgeries and treatments that would keep her alive even though she wasn't living. I look at the pictures taken in the last year of her life and realize there's no spark, no life. Sometimes I wonder if all the medical treatments actually lessened her quality of life and made her last year less enjoyable than if we'd just accepted the reality and enjoyed every day we had w/ her. Just now a single-engine plane from our small airport flew overhead. Could very well be the same one Mom rode in.
Tim McGraw's song is a reminder for all of us to enjoy every day as if we were unsure if there would be a tomorrow. But when the reality that the number of Mom's tomorrows was truly limited, we became more concerned w/ prolonging her life rather than sustaining her happiness. All living creatures possess an instinct for self preservation, which is necessary to keep the race or breed going, and Mom fought to live for us. From the time of her lung surgery three years ago, she lived in pain b/c she knew we weren't ready to let her go. I guess we needed a gestation period, of sorts. Expectant parents use that time of development to prepare for the arrival of their newborns. Expectant mourners of cancer patients should use that time to develop a plan for living and not just a plan to keep from dying.
(NOTE: I'm posting this on 20 June b/c on the 19th I was prolonging my happiness through memories of watching three softball games, spending time w/ visiting relatives, and celebrating our 18th wedding anniversary w/ my husband.)
Friday, June 18, 2010
Friday, 18 June 2010 -- Day 180 (193)
I have to have faith that the powers-that-be know what they're doing. I must trust that God took Mom so young for a reason and that this reason will someday be made known to me. I must trust that Kenzie's softball coach knows what she's doing by starting another girl at second base for varsity when Kenz has been playing so well there for junior varsity. It's all about communication. I pray to God that he will help me understand why Mom couldn't be here another 10 of 15 more years to see my daughters graduate high school and college and get married and have children. I pray that Mackenzie's coach will help her understand why she was passed over for a starting position that she has been working hard at to prove her worth.
I also have to have faith that I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. Sometimes I'm not sure that I'm where I should be personally and professionally. It seems so much simpler for others to know their special purpose. I watched a Daddy Longleg spider wrap an ant and pull it up into its web. The entire process took about 15 minutes. I can be back-and-forth to the refrigerator three times for a snack in the time it took this spider to wrap up one big meal or several small snacks. This spider is doing exactly what he was programmed to do w/ no doubts or questions. I have to trust that I'm doing exactly what I'm programmed to do w/o any doubts or questions. I also have to trust that Kenzie's softball coach is subject to the same programming, but I don't think there's anything wrong w/questioning the programmer.
I also have to have faith that I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. Sometimes I'm not sure that I'm where I should be personally and professionally. It seems so much simpler for others to know their special purpose. I watched a Daddy Longleg spider wrap an ant and pull it up into its web. The entire process took about 15 minutes. I can be back-and-forth to the refrigerator three times for a snack in the time it took this spider to wrap up one big meal or several small snacks. This spider is doing exactly what he was programmed to do w/ no doubts or questions. I have to trust that I'm doing exactly what I'm programmed to do w/o any doubts or questions. I also have to trust that Kenzie's softball coach is subject to the same programming, but I don't think there's anything wrong w/questioning the programmer.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Thursday, 17 June 2010 -- Day 179 (192)
I had an epiphany today while talking w/ Maddy about cell phones. I suggested that we could reinstate our land line and get rid of all of our cell phones. She immediately wondered how we would keep in touch w/ each other. I said we'd just have to plan ahead about when and where we'd meet and leave notes on the kitchen table like we used to. She did NOT think this was a good idea. The epiphany comes in now: I think another reason why I'm more comfortable w/ playing it by ear is that I can immediately be in touch w/ anyone at anytime to make or alter plans. For example, Ron and I have been talking to each other over Skype to make our plans for our trip to Europe next month. I can see him and talk to him, and we can both be looking at the same websites while we work out hotel accommodations and train schedules. Technology has freed me!!
Amazing technology, however, could not compare tonight to the incredible sky at around nine o'clock. I spent 20 minutes while walking the dog just looking up at it. People probably would've thought I was crazy if they weren't outside taking pictures of the sky. The western sky was so blue it looked like a clear, morning sky as if the sun were about to rise rather than set. The eastern sky looked like bubble wrap w/ a pinkish tint. I expected an airplane at any moment to fly through one of the bubbles to pop it. I think God put Mom in charge of the sunset tonight. She knows how much I like to play w/ bubble wrap.
Amazing technology, however, could not compare tonight to the incredible sky at around nine o'clock. I spent 20 minutes while walking the dog just looking up at it. People probably would've thought I was crazy if they weren't outside taking pictures of the sky. The western sky was so blue it looked like a clear, morning sky as if the sun were about to rise rather than set. The eastern sky looked like bubble wrap w/ a pinkish tint. I expected an airplane at any moment to fly through one of the bubbles to pop it. I think God put Mom in charge of the sunset tonight. She knows how much I like to play w/ bubble wrap.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Wednesday, 16 June 2010 -- Day 178 (191)
My new expression for the summer is "We'll just have to play it by ear." Lately whenever we make plans, something like rain or work or re-scheduled softball games causes us to have to re-arrange those plans. I've become much better at "rolling w/ the punches" these last six years when God gave me a second chance at living. I used to plan everything out and then work my butt off to make sure it all went off w/o a hitch. I got that from Mom.
Sometimes, however, all that work and planning ran into a hitch. One time that will forever stay in my memory is after the reception of my first wedding. My first husband and I had left the reception for our honeymoon, and when the dance and the kegs ended, apparently there was talk about going out for breakfast. Mom said everyone could go over to their house. She and dad went home and she set about making eggs and pancakes and bacon. No one came. Apparently there was miscommunication and everyone went to my new in-law's house instead. I felt terrible when I found out. Mom didn't appear disappointed, but I knew she was. A similar situation happened after Mom and Dad's 40th wedding anniversary party. She made breakfast, and only one person came. That's always been a fear of mine, that I'll throw a party or a party will be thrown for me and no one will show up. Even when I planned the girls' birthday parties and invited their friends, I was worried that none of them would come and the girls would be devastated. That didn't stop Mom, she kept at it. It's a testament to her tenacity that hundreds of people attended her visitation and funeral.
I'm discovering that it's certainly less stressful when I just let plans develop and play it by ear.
Sometimes, however, all that work and planning ran into a hitch. One time that will forever stay in my memory is after the reception of my first wedding. My first husband and I had left the reception for our honeymoon, and when the dance and the kegs ended, apparently there was talk about going out for breakfast. Mom said everyone could go over to their house. She and dad went home and she set about making eggs and pancakes and bacon. No one came. Apparently there was miscommunication and everyone went to my new in-law's house instead. I felt terrible when I found out. Mom didn't appear disappointed, but I knew she was. A similar situation happened after Mom and Dad's 40th wedding anniversary party. She made breakfast, and only one person came. That's always been a fear of mine, that I'll throw a party or a party will be thrown for me and no one will show up. Even when I planned the girls' birthday parties and invited their friends, I was worried that none of them would come and the girls would be devastated. That didn't stop Mom, she kept at it. It's a testament to her tenacity that hundreds of people attended her visitation and funeral.
I'm discovering that it's certainly less stressful when I just let plans develop and play it by ear.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Tuesday, 15 June 2010 -- Day 177 (190)
There was a bright, yellow ball in the sky today that I haven't seen for what seems like a long, long time. Its warm reappearance brought w/ it a lightening of my mood. A walk w/ a friend and four softball games brought a reminder that there are good people in my life. The key is surrounding myself w/ family, friends, and friendly people and distancing myself from people who are negative and disparaging. Two nights ago I mentioned some women in this town w/ whom, to phrase it more politely, I was not very pleased. Now that the sun, pleasant conversation, and my daughters' ball games have put me in a happier place, I can share why I wanted to rip off the heads of a couple of women in this town.
I can handle these women being mean to me, but it tears me up to hear them bad-mouthing their own daughters. For example, one mother sat behind me at a softball tournament on Sunday. I heard her talk about her 13-year-old daughter in terms of "Oh, she wouldn't understand that," and "She's not the brightest light bulb in the bunch." The other mother sitting next to her laughed and made similar comments about her daughter. I quickly made my excuses for not being able to see and moved my chair far away. It's no wonder the daughter of the first mother has such a low self concept that she would take a picture of her naked breasts, attach it to a text message, and send it to a boy. That mother should be arrested by child abuse b/c she's definitely damaging her daughter.
I know Mom said some hurtful things to my siblings over the years, and I hope they can and have forgiven her. To me she always gave positive appraisals. She may have been disappointed in some of my choices, but she never berated me for those choices. Take the time I skipped school one day during my junior year of high school. My friend, Deb, and I wanted to ride mopeds so we left school w/o permission. However, while going to the boy's house who had the mopeds, we thought a teacher spotted us riding in Deb's car. We got scared and went back to school. The teacher hadn't seen us, but all the kids at school were talking about it so word got back to the principal. Yep, we got a three-day, in-school suspension for that little one hour joy-ride that didn't even include the mopeds. Facing the principal was no problem, but waiting for my mom to get home from work to tell her was agonizing. Mom's reaction was to call the principal to see if she could keep me home for three days instead so she could put me to work. I think I'm glad it turned out to be an in-school suspension. Mom taught me to face my problem head-on, and I am a strong woman due, in large part, to her understanding, praise and encouragement.
I've labeled tonight's post, "Yellow Balls" b/c each part of what I've just written involves a yellow ball. In case you're wondering how my train-of-thought is running: the first part involved the sun; the second part a yellow softball; and the third part a yellow tennis ball b/c that's what I was bouncing on my racket waiting for Mom to come home.
I can handle these women being mean to me, but it tears me up to hear them bad-mouthing their own daughters. For example, one mother sat behind me at a softball tournament on Sunday. I heard her talk about her 13-year-old daughter in terms of "Oh, she wouldn't understand that," and "She's not the brightest light bulb in the bunch." The other mother sitting next to her laughed and made similar comments about her daughter. I quickly made my excuses for not being able to see and moved my chair far away. It's no wonder the daughter of the first mother has such a low self concept that she would take a picture of her naked breasts, attach it to a text message, and send it to a boy. That mother should be arrested by child abuse b/c she's definitely damaging her daughter.
I know Mom said some hurtful things to my siblings over the years, and I hope they can and have forgiven her. To me she always gave positive appraisals. She may have been disappointed in some of my choices, but she never berated me for those choices. Take the time I skipped school one day during my junior year of high school. My friend, Deb, and I wanted to ride mopeds so we left school w/o permission. However, while going to the boy's house who had the mopeds, we thought a teacher spotted us riding in Deb's car. We got scared and went back to school. The teacher hadn't seen us, but all the kids at school were talking about it so word got back to the principal. Yep, we got a three-day, in-school suspension for that little one hour joy-ride that didn't even include the mopeds. Facing the principal was no problem, but waiting for my mom to get home from work to tell her was agonizing. Mom's reaction was to call the principal to see if she could keep me home for three days instead so she could put me to work. I think I'm glad it turned out to be an in-school suspension. Mom taught me to face my problem head-on, and I am a strong woman due, in large part, to her understanding, praise and encouragement.
I've labeled tonight's post, "Yellow Balls" b/c each part of what I've just written involves a yellow ball. In case you're wondering how my train-of-thought is running: the first part involved the sun; the second part a yellow softball; and the third part a yellow tennis ball b/c that's what I was bouncing on my racket waiting for Mom to come home.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Monday, 14 June 2010 -- Day 176 (189)
I hate cancer. I'm angry at what it does to the body, to the mind, and to relationships. After my cancer and aneurysm, I went to a psychologist for a couple of sessions to help me deal w/ mild depression. She told me that I was angry at my body for letting me down. That's where I'm at w/ my feelings about cancer so I've decided to write a letter to cancer to express my feelings.
Dear Cancer,
I hate you. I hate everything about you. You have no redeeming qualities. You serve no purpose except to bring sadness and pain to everyone you meet. You just couldn't leave my mom alone. She beat you twice, and that bruised your ego so you had to come back w/ an even greater vengeance. You just can't let people win. I support research that will put an end to you. I participate in Relay for Life to raise money to fight you. But this year you won. You took my mom and that took away my fight. I didn't walk in Relay for Life this month, and I put away all the t-shirts from the past years that I have walked. The sight of anything having to do w/ you makes me ill. I've heard that some researchers believe that you are present in all of our bodies, but you only choose to show yourself to certain people. I'm telling you right now, stay away from my family. You've done enough damage. I want you to leave and never come back. I mean it.
Seriously pissed off,
Mari
Dear Cancer,
I hate you. I hate everything about you. You have no redeeming qualities. You serve no purpose except to bring sadness and pain to everyone you meet. You just couldn't leave my mom alone. She beat you twice, and that bruised your ego so you had to come back w/ an even greater vengeance. You just can't let people win. I support research that will put an end to you. I participate in Relay for Life to raise money to fight you. But this year you won. You took my mom and that took away my fight. I didn't walk in Relay for Life this month, and I put away all the t-shirts from the past years that I have walked. The sight of anything having to do w/ you makes me ill. I've heard that some researchers believe that you are present in all of our bodies, but you only choose to show yourself to certain people. I'm telling you right now, stay away from my family. You've done enough damage. I want you to leave and never come back. I mean it.
Seriously pissed off,
Mari
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Sunday, 13 June 2010 -- Day 175 (188)
I remember when the United States entered the first Gulf War in January of 1991. I was just pulling into my apartment complex in Iowa City after having been home to celebrate Mom and Dad's 44th wedding anniversary when I heard the announcement on the radio. For the next week, I watched the live, television broadcasts directly from Baghdad that showed the lights and sounds of the bombings. The reporters were literally hanging the cameras and microphones out the hotel windows to bring the action directly to my living room. It was this realness and nearness that made me join protest rallies and anti-war marches and wear black armbands. I had to get personally involved for fear that I would become desensitized to the war, and it would become just something that was happening somewhere.
Two weeks ago I was watching the live, underwater camera footage of the oil spill in the Gulf, but after a week it became mundane. I agree this is a horrific situation, but I feel helpless to do anything in a place thousands of miles away from me. Two summers ago when the F5 tornado swept through Parkersburg, a town four miles from my hometown, so I went back to help. This disaster hit a little closer to home, yet I was still removed from it b/c I could return to my home w/ solid walls and to my yard w/ tall trees. I've sent sympathy cards when friends and colleagues lost family members. That's what all these situations had in common; I could sympathize but never empathize. Now, being a recipient of those sympathy cards I can better empathize w/ the initial, overwhelming sadness followed by the numbness and then the shock and some more numbness then a little anger and then some more disbelief.
We should never become immune and desensitized to other's pain and suffering b/c one day it will be ours. Countless times in my life have I said, "There, but for the grace of God, go I." I have to remember that I could easily be the one who's home is being bombed by someone claiming to save me or destroyed by a natural disaster. Soldiers and health care providers disassociate w/ the enemy and the patient b/c otherwise they couldn't cope w/ the daily dangers and stress and illness and loss of life. Giving the enemy cruel nicknames like Krauts and Japs and Gooks, or not even giving them a name, but only referring to them as "the patient," dehumanizes them and desensitizes the soldier and the doctor to what he or she must do. But if they traded their disassociation for compassion, we might have no need for war and find more cures for sickness. The soldier will someday die, and the doctor will someday become ill. Rather than fearing personal involvement, they should embrace it or run the risk of desensitization.
Writing in this blog each day keeps me in touch w/ my grief and my loss, which in turns keeps me sensitive to not only my feelings but to the feelings of others. Well, maybe not all others. There are some women in this town that I have to disassociate w/ otherwise I'll rip their heads off, but that's another story for another day.
Two weeks ago I was watching the live, underwater camera footage of the oil spill in the Gulf, but after a week it became mundane. I agree this is a horrific situation, but I feel helpless to do anything in a place thousands of miles away from me. Two summers ago when the F5 tornado swept through Parkersburg, a town four miles from my hometown, so I went back to help. This disaster hit a little closer to home, yet I was still removed from it b/c I could return to my home w/ solid walls and to my yard w/ tall trees. I've sent sympathy cards when friends and colleagues lost family members. That's what all these situations had in common; I could sympathize but never empathize. Now, being a recipient of those sympathy cards I can better empathize w/ the initial, overwhelming sadness followed by the numbness and then the shock and some more numbness then a little anger and then some more disbelief.
We should never become immune and desensitized to other's pain and suffering b/c one day it will be ours. Countless times in my life have I said, "There, but for the grace of God, go I." I have to remember that I could easily be the one who's home is being bombed by someone claiming to save me or destroyed by a natural disaster. Soldiers and health care providers disassociate w/ the enemy and the patient b/c otherwise they couldn't cope w/ the daily dangers and stress and illness and loss of life. Giving the enemy cruel nicknames like Krauts and Japs and Gooks, or not even giving them a name, but only referring to them as "the patient," dehumanizes them and desensitizes the soldier and the doctor to what he or she must do. But if they traded their disassociation for compassion, we might have no need for war and find more cures for sickness. The soldier will someday die, and the doctor will someday become ill. Rather than fearing personal involvement, they should embrace it or run the risk of desensitization.
Writing in this blog each day keeps me in touch w/ my grief and my loss, which in turns keeps me sensitive to not only my feelings but to the feelings of others. Well, maybe not all others. There are some women in this town that I have to disassociate w/ otherwise I'll rip their heads off, but that's another story for another day.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Saturday, 12 June 2010 -- Day 174 (187)
About 15 years ago when I was teaching high school, the senior class asked me to be the speaker at their Senior Breakfast. I readily agreed as I'd been waiting since my own high school graduation to do some type of commemorative speech. I entitled my speech, Live for Now, Live for Wow. I even said the expression in American Sign Language to give them a visual aid for remembrance. I wow'ed them w/ my piano playing and guitar playing, but what really made an impression was a cartoon strip that I kept (and still do) on my refrigerator. The Family Circus cartoon shows the dad paying bills when one of the kids comes in w/ a football, and the dad says, "Not now." The next frame shows the mom ironing clothes and the same kid comes in w/ a book, but the mom says, "Not now." In the final frame, the kid is all grown-up and heading out the door w/ the car packed for college. The parents are old and gray, sitting on the couch, and they say, "Now?" My message to these graduating seniors was basically the same as the adage, "Don't put off until tomorrow, what you can do today." That goes for work, but it also goes for putting the work aside to enjoy friends and family.
In preparation for the speech, I asked some of the graduating seniors about their plans after graduation. Most told me their plans for what college they'd be attending and their majors, and some told me about the sports they'd be playing and the summer jobs they'd be working. There was only one kid, a boy who tended to miss assignments and deadlines, who told me, "I'm going to take a nap." His answer was perfect b/c when we're young we're always looking to the future, both distance and near, until we get to the point where the future becomes the past, and we're looking back rather than ahead. Whatever it takes to feel the WOW, whether it's para sailing or parachuting from an airplane or holding a newborn or comforting a grandparent, we need to do it now.........not later.........not when it's convenient. Live for now, live for wow!
In preparation for the speech, I asked some of the graduating seniors about their plans after graduation. Most told me their plans for what college they'd be attending and their majors, and some told me about the sports they'd be playing and the summer jobs they'd be working. There was only one kid, a boy who tended to miss assignments and deadlines, who told me, "I'm going to take a nap." His answer was perfect b/c when we're young we're always looking to the future, both distance and near, until we get to the point where the future becomes the past, and we're looking back rather than ahead. Whatever it takes to feel the WOW, whether it's para sailing or parachuting from an airplane or holding a newborn or comforting a grandparent, we need to do it now.........not later.........not when it's convenient. Live for now, live for wow!
Friday, June 11, 2010
Friday, 11 June 2010 Day 173 (186)
I felt like Mama Duck w/ my ducklings in tow. I wanted to make sure Mackenzie knew the county roads better b/w our house and her job so she and Maddy followed me in her car. It's important for a mother to teach her babies as much as she can about everything she can. I guess God felt Mom had taught me all she could.
When I was a child, she taught me how to love. When I was a teenager, she taught me how to take care of myself. When I became a wife, she taught me how to take care of a home and love my husband. I remember on the eve of my first wedding night (I was married before when I was 20), she said to me that she felt she needed to give me some words of advice but the only thing that came to her was, "Don't leave hair in the bathroom sink." Okay, maybe she didn't teach me a lot w/ that one, but I learned more by watching. I watched her set-up monthly budgets so when I was newly married, I could pinch pennies too. When I became newly divorced those budgeting tips definitely came in handy. Mom was never divorced, so I was in uncharted territory there, but by then she'd given me the confidence needed to face anything. She was my biggest fan. Thanks to her I was able to be a full-time student and a full-time worker w/ another part-time job to make ends meet. When I became a mom, she taught me how to wash cloth diapers and calm a fussy baby and how to play w/ my kids. She knew it was important to let me make my own decisions and my own mistakes. I'm working hard on this one, Mom.
When I become a grandma and great-grandmother, I'll reflect on how she spoiled and doted on her grandchildren, never forgetting a birthday; always making every visit feel like we were the most important people in the world; cooking family dinners that would put five-star restaurants to shame; traveling hundreds of miles just to watch 10 minutes of dancing or singing; and reading.....lots and lots of reading. I wish I could say I'll be a grandmother who will sew baby clothes and pajamas, but Mom's sewing lessons never took w/ me. When it comes time for me to leave this world, I'll remember how she left on her terms despite the ravages of cancer and pneumonia. She taught me to face death the same way I face life: w/ courage, dignity, and peace.
When I was a child, she taught me how to love. When I was a teenager, she taught me how to take care of myself. When I became a wife, she taught me how to take care of a home and love my husband. I remember on the eve of my first wedding night (I was married before when I was 20), she said to me that she felt she needed to give me some words of advice but the only thing that came to her was, "Don't leave hair in the bathroom sink." Okay, maybe she didn't teach me a lot w/ that one, but I learned more by watching. I watched her set-up monthly budgets so when I was newly married, I could pinch pennies too. When I became newly divorced those budgeting tips definitely came in handy. Mom was never divorced, so I was in uncharted territory there, but by then she'd given me the confidence needed to face anything. She was my biggest fan. Thanks to her I was able to be a full-time student and a full-time worker w/ another part-time job to make ends meet. When I became a mom, she taught me how to wash cloth diapers and calm a fussy baby and how to play w/ my kids. She knew it was important to let me make my own decisions and my own mistakes. I'm working hard on this one, Mom.
When I become a grandma and great-grandmother, I'll reflect on how she spoiled and doted on her grandchildren, never forgetting a birthday; always making every visit feel like we were the most important people in the world; cooking family dinners that would put five-star restaurants to shame; traveling hundreds of miles just to watch 10 minutes of dancing or singing; and reading.....lots and lots of reading. I wish I could say I'll be a grandmother who will sew baby clothes and pajamas, but Mom's sewing lessons never took w/ me. When it comes time for me to leave this world, I'll remember how she left on her terms despite the ravages of cancer and pneumonia. She taught me to face death the same way I face life: w/ courage, dignity, and peace.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Thursday, 10 June 2010 -- Day 172 (185)
Same blog, new design. The hummingbirds remind me of Mom. She was never one who sat down much except for the last year or so. She said to me several times that she never thought she could be content to just sit and watch the birds, and it only took four cancers to slow her down long enough to do just that.....and enjoy it. I've decided I can't let my Law of ORCA keep me from taking time to just sit and watch and listen and be. It IS possible to be both constructive and complacent. For example, I spent all day today cleaning the house in preparation for the appraiser who's coming tomorrow as part of our mortgage refinancing. But in the midst of this, I took time w/ Maddy to watch and help a baby Robin who was trapped under its fallen nest. I also took time to have lunch w/ my daughters and watch part of a documentary on the History Channel about methods of torture. (I know, strange lunch time viewing topic.) Typically when I get in cleaning mode, I don't stop for anyone or any reason so for me to take these breaks is a huge step toward what Mom discovered near the end of her life: that sitting and watching can be just as worthwhile and meaningful as accomplishing a long list of tasks.
This new hummingbird design for my blog also reminds me that I want to put a solar-powered light in one of the planters on Mom's gravestone. Previously I had thought about putting just a basic solar light in the ground next to her grave, but I saw a crystal hummingbird next to a grave at one of the cemeteries Dad, Ron, and I went to last Sunday, and I like that better. Apparently it can be seen from quite a distance. Doubt that I'll be able to see it 150 miles away, but it'll be nice to now that Mom's little light is shining over Aplington. Maybe someone will take time to just sit and watch it some night.
This new hummingbird design for my blog also reminds me that I want to put a solar-powered light in one of the planters on Mom's gravestone. Previously I had thought about putting just a basic solar light in the ground next to her grave, but I saw a crystal hummingbird next to a grave at one of the cemeteries Dad, Ron, and I went to last Sunday, and I like that better. Apparently it can be seen from quite a distance. Doubt that I'll be able to see it 150 miles away, but it'll be nice to now that Mom's little light is shining over Aplington. Maybe someone will take time to just sit and watch it some night.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Wednesday, 09 June 2010 -- Day 171 (184)
Kenzie and I had a "burning of her 11th grade year" this afternoon. I made a fire in the fire pit, and she got out all her notes, study guides, papers, and assignments for Chemistry, American Lit, Spanish III, and Social Problems and Human Relations. We had a ball saying goodbye to her junior year and welcoming the start of her senior year. She giggled each time I ceremoniously picked up the grate as she placed the papers on the fire. It amazes me to think that at the age Mackenzie is now, is the age Mom was when she had been married for a year and had her first baby. Different times, different dreams.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Tuesday, 8 June 2010 -- Day 170 (183)
I think it's important to stand up for what you believe in, but in so doing you're going to offend and possibly hurt someone who believes differently. I believe that you should be able to do what you want as long as it doesn't hurt anyone or yourself. I know that Mom was very much against homosexuality, and as a result many of her words and actions hurt my brother and my sister. We always look to our parents for acceptance, and when it's not there it can be devastating. I believe Mom had a right to her beliefs, and I believe she thought she was doing was she thought was best for her children. But I'm learning so much of what she said and did to hurt my siblings that I'm questioning how a mother could do that to her own children. Some would call it tough love, I guess, but I think a parent should give unconditional love. But at the same time, I think a child can only blame a parent for so long before they just have to get over it and move on. I've made mistakes as a mother and will probably continue to do so, but I hope my daughters will be able to forgive these mistakes and move on w/o holding them against me or w/o holding themselves back.
I have a family friend for whom I used to babysit, who is now sitting in a federal jail on charges of viewing child pornography over the Internet. I believe that child pornography is wrong, but I also believe that this guy wouldn't hurt anyone. Yes, he's made some bad choices, but I just don't understand how he can be facing ten years in prison while the makers of the child pornography go free. But I digress.......I'm struggling tonight to figure out why we hurt the people we love, and why we can't forgive the people who've hurt us. We carry a lot of extra weight when we're burdened w/ hate. Catholics believe in purgatory, a place where they must go to burn off their earthly sins before they can enter heaven. What if the life we're living right now IS purgatory? Perhaps earth is the place where we burn off our mistakes, and each time we do we're rewarded w/ a new baby or a new friendship or a new life in heaven. Maybe when we pass from this life, it's b/c we've burned off all our mistakes and can now enter heaven.
Right now I believe I'm very tired.
I have a family friend for whom I used to babysit, who is now sitting in a federal jail on charges of viewing child pornography over the Internet. I believe that child pornography is wrong, but I also believe that this guy wouldn't hurt anyone. Yes, he's made some bad choices, but I just don't understand how he can be facing ten years in prison while the makers of the child pornography go free. But I digress.......I'm struggling tonight to figure out why we hurt the people we love, and why we can't forgive the people who've hurt us. We carry a lot of extra weight when we're burdened w/ hate. Catholics believe in purgatory, a place where they must go to burn off their earthly sins before they can enter heaven. What if the life we're living right now IS purgatory? Perhaps earth is the place where we burn off our mistakes, and each time we do we're rewarded w/ a new baby or a new friendship or a new life in heaven. Maybe when we pass from this life, it's b/c we've burned off all our mistakes and can now enter heaven.
Right now I believe I'm very tired.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Monday, 07 June 2010 -- Day 169 (182)
It's been six months now since Mom passed away. Dad seems very withdrawn. I thought having family around and a lot of parades and town celebrations would help, but maybe it's actually worse for him b/c this all reminds him even more that Mom is gone.
Tonight was the Kiddie Parade. Mom used to always create some clever float for me to pull in the wagon. One year she put flowers and silver bells and shells, and I wore a sign that said, "Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?" I wore a long sunflower skirt. Another year she made a Paper Mache mountain in the wagon, we spray-painted it gold, and put a miner's pick-ax in it. The sign I wore that year read, "Aplington's my pick." I wore cut-off shorts and a raggedy shirt w/ an old floppy hat. In 1975, in preparation for the country's bicentennial, two of my friends walked in the parade w/ me. One pretended to play a flute, the other carried the American flag that always hung outside our house, and I carried the drum that Mom bought for Lori to practice on. We wore ragged clothes w/ bandages on our heads to look like wounded Revolutionary War soldiers. They put us at the beginning of the parade, and I don't think people realized we were an actual parade entry. I don't remember what the sign said on our backs but something to the effect of getting ready for the Bicentennial next year.
Mom was amazing when it came to making and creating. All I ever had to do was say, "Mom I want to be in the parade," and she took it from there. When I got too old for the Kiddie Parade, she helped her grandchildren and other people's children. Mom loved a parade. Mom loved kids. She wanted to have at least one more after I was born, but she had ovarian cancer when I was four and had to have a complete hysterectomy. I think that's why she loved teaching the preschool Sunday School students b/c they became Lucy's Kids.
Tonight was the Kiddie Parade. Mom used to always create some clever float for me to pull in the wagon. One year she put flowers and silver bells and shells, and I wore a sign that said, "Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?" I wore a long sunflower skirt. Another year she made a Paper Mache mountain in the wagon, we spray-painted it gold, and put a miner's pick-ax in it. The sign I wore that year read, "Aplington's my pick." I wore cut-off shorts and a raggedy shirt w/ an old floppy hat. In 1975, in preparation for the country's bicentennial, two of my friends walked in the parade w/ me. One pretended to play a flute, the other carried the American flag that always hung outside our house, and I carried the drum that Mom bought for Lori to practice on. We wore ragged clothes w/ bandages on our heads to look like wounded Revolutionary War soldiers. They put us at the beginning of the parade, and I don't think people realized we were an actual parade entry. I don't remember what the sign said on our backs but something to the effect of getting ready for the Bicentennial next year.
Mom was amazing when it came to making and creating. All I ever had to do was say, "Mom I want to be in the parade," and she took it from there. When I got too old for the Kiddie Parade, she helped her grandchildren and other people's children. Mom loved a parade. Mom loved kids. She wanted to have at least one more after I was born, but she had ovarian cancer when I was four and had to have a complete hysterectomy. I think that's why she loved teaching the preschool Sunday School students b/c they became Lucy's Kids.
Sunday, 06 June 2010 -- Day 168 (181)
Blogspot is down so I'm handwriting this and will upload later. Sorry, Aunt Jean, if this causes you any undo stress or concern.
Today was Church in the Park, an ecumenical service of my hometown's churches. Usually the songs and hymns of church services affect me the most, which is probably why my church-going has dwindled in the last six months. I was doing okay w/ the first couple of praise songs, but when the men's quartet sang an a cappella piece, the waterworks opened. This was exactly the kind of singing that Mom loved. Then the closing hymn was How Great Thou Art, played really jazzy and up-tempo on the piano....just like Mom loved. It's a beautiful hymn, but it always reminds me of funerals. Yep, I was a mess at this point. Fortunately I was wearing sunglasses so no one could see. Why do I say fortunately, and why was I worried that people would see me cry? Is there a statute of limitations on public mourning? It's okay to cry at the funeral, but six months later is not allowed? Why am I embarrassed that church music should remind me of Mom and cause me to cry?
This afternoon we went to the cemetery. The corsage I placed on Mom's grave was dead so I picked it up, along w/ some remnants of peonies that Ron placed a few weeks ago. Holding those petals brought me back to Grandpa Koop's funeral in Colorado when I was 9. I was given a mum from the funeral spray to keep as a memento. (Why do some people place flowers on caskets while others take flowers from it?) Anyway, I was holding this mum in my hand all the way from Fountain to Colorado Springs, and by the time we reached my aunt and uncle's, it was a mass of loosed petals. I got out of the backseat of the car and shook the petals out of my hand onto a neighbor's lawn. The neighbor lady had apparently been watching b/c she came out her front door, yelling at me to pick those petals up. Mom heard and came around the car to help me pick them up. Didn't this woman know that my mom had just buried her father? Then I felt guilty that Mom had to help me pick up the petals when she was so sad, but maybe she welcomed the distraction from her grief.
I know I've busied myself w/ many distractions these last few months, but this just proves that running from anything, whether it be grief or problems or the law only means that when you do finally slow down to face the music, it's all still there waiting, w/ an even greater force behind it than before. Kinda like when you pinch off a garden hose while the water is running through it. When you finally release it, the water spurts out w/ more intensity, at least at first. And that's what happened w/ the music this morning in church. When I finally took time to listen and pay attention to my surroundings, the waterworks came spurting to life.
Today was Church in the Park, an ecumenical service of my hometown's churches. Usually the songs and hymns of church services affect me the most, which is probably why my church-going has dwindled in the last six months. I was doing okay w/ the first couple of praise songs, but when the men's quartet sang an a cappella piece, the waterworks opened. This was exactly the kind of singing that Mom loved. Then the closing hymn was How Great Thou Art, played really jazzy and up-tempo on the piano....just like Mom loved. It's a beautiful hymn, but it always reminds me of funerals. Yep, I was a mess at this point. Fortunately I was wearing sunglasses so no one could see. Why do I say fortunately, and why was I worried that people would see me cry? Is there a statute of limitations on public mourning? It's okay to cry at the funeral, but six months later is not allowed? Why am I embarrassed that church music should remind me of Mom and cause me to cry?
This afternoon we went to the cemetery. The corsage I placed on Mom's grave was dead so I picked it up, along w/ some remnants of peonies that Ron placed a few weeks ago. Holding those petals brought me back to Grandpa Koop's funeral in Colorado when I was 9. I was given a mum from the funeral spray to keep as a memento. (Why do some people place flowers on caskets while others take flowers from it?) Anyway, I was holding this mum in my hand all the way from Fountain to Colorado Springs, and by the time we reached my aunt and uncle's, it was a mass of loosed petals. I got out of the backseat of the car and shook the petals out of my hand onto a neighbor's lawn. The neighbor lady had apparently been watching b/c she came out her front door, yelling at me to pick those petals up. Mom heard and came around the car to help me pick them up. Didn't this woman know that my mom had just buried her father? Then I felt guilty that Mom had to help me pick up the petals when she was so sad, but maybe she welcomed the distraction from her grief.
I know I've busied myself w/ many distractions these last few months, but this just proves that running from anything, whether it be grief or problems or the law only means that when you do finally slow down to face the music, it's all still there waiting, w/ an even greater force behind it than before. Kinda like when you pinch off a garden hose while the water is running through it. When you finally release it, the water spurts out w/ more intensity, at least at first. And that's what happened w/ the music this morning in church. When I finally took time to listen and pay attention to my surroundings, the waterworks came spurting to life.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Saturday, 05 June 2010 -- Day 167 (180)
I'm at Dad's for the next several days...still can't get used to saying it this way. When Mom was alive I'd tell people that I was "going to my folk's for the weekend." To me folk's always meant Mom and Dad's, but now that I think about it, a person's folk or kin can be any relative or family members. I can still say I'm going to "my folks'" meaning, "I'm going home to see my people, my family."
So I'm back amongst my folk, and I got a chance to see a lot of them tonight. It was Sauerkraut Days in a town about ten miles from where I grew up, and it's been a longstanding tradition to: meet at my Aunt Irene's house, go watch the parade, and return to her home for beef burgers and a whole lot of other yummy stuff. Tonight, visiting w/ aunts and cousins and siblings and nieces and nephews, I felt the depth of this tradition and w/ it the breadth of Mom's absence. The first hour together was spent reminiscing about, "Which year was it that we had to head to the cellar b/c the tornado sirens went off?" and "Were you here last year when....?" Most family gatherings begin w/ this trip down memory lane before sharing current events in our lives. This is the talk that binds families together. I don't make it back every year for this tradition, but Mom and Dad never missed one. Even last summer when she wasn't feeling well, she was there. It's hard to return to these yearly events when events have brought change during the past year.
I could envision Mom sitting in a lawn chair next to Dad during the parade, commenting on all the tractors and fire trucks and making comments like, "Blah, why do they have to blast their sirens so loud?" As of now I still see her wrapped in a blanket while sitting in that lawn chair, but I hope eventually I'll get to the point when I can recall the healthy, vibrant Mom who loved family traditions more than anyone. She never had much of a family of her own growing up so these events were always so important to her. Dad knows that, and I think that's part of what keeps him going. By returning to these events and traditions, he feels her presence spreading through her potato salad and her rhubarb upside cake and her ability to remember any person's name whenever someone was at a loss while recalling a story.
It's a happy time to come back to my folk, but the loss is more obvious. Being 150 miles away, I can almost pretend that she's still alive. But I'm too old to pretend, and there's no use pretending among folk anyway; they know the truth.
So I'm back amongst my folk, and I got a chance to see a lot of them tonight. It was Sauerkraut Days in a town about ten miles from where I grew up, and it's been a longstanding tradition to: meet at my Aunt Irene's house, go watch the parade, and return to her home for beef burgers and a whole lot of other yummy stuff. Tonight, visiting w/ aunts and cousins and siblings and nieces and nephews, I felt the depth of this tradition and w/ it the breadth of Mom's absence. The first hour together was spent reminiscing about, "Which year was it that we had to head to the cellar b/c the tornado sirens went off?" and "Were you here last year when....?" Most family gatherings begin w/ this trip down memory lane before sharing current events in our lives. This is the talk that binds families together. I don't make it back every year for this tradition, but Mom and Dad never missed one. Even last summer when she wasn't feeling well, she was there. It's hard to return to these yearly events when events have brought change during the past year.
I could envision Mom sitting in a lawn chair next to Dad during the parade, commenting on all the tractors and fire trucks and making comments like, "Blah, why do they have to blast their sirens so loud?" As of now I still see her wrapped in a blanket while sitting in that lawn chair, but I hope eventually I'll get to the point when I can recall the healthy, vibrant Mom who loved family traditions more than anyone. She never had much of a family of her own growing up so these events were always so important to her. Dad knows that, and I think that's part of what keeps him going. By returning to these events and traditions, he feels her presence spreading through her potato salad and her rhubarb upside cake and her ability to remember any person's name whenever someone was at a loss while recalling a story.
It's a happy time to come back to my folk, but the loss is more obvious. Being 150 miles away, I can almost pretend that she's still alive. But I'm too old to pretend, and there's no use pretending among folk anyway; they know the truth.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Friday, 04 June 2010 -- Day 166 (179)
"Never say die." That's my expression for the day. It's not really my expression, but all I can find right now about its origins is that the expression was first used in the early 1800's in reference to perseverance and tenacity. The groups Black Sabbath and Dixie Chicks apparently turned this phrase into having more to do w/ sexual tenacity rather than persevering to accomplish a goal. My connotation for this expression is that even when we don't think we can keep going, we just keep pushing on and "never say die."
Enough of the etymology and derivation lesson, the reason this phrase rings true for me today is b/c the alternator in my car decided to die. Of course I was 15 miles from home, but at least I was in Spirit Lake where I could get help and a new battery to at least get me back home. Two months ago the fuel pump had to be replaced (my '01 Ford Escape has over 125,000 miles on it), and my daughter's car needed new brake lines. Then Maddy's moped battery had to be replaced so she could stop kick-starting it. To top it all off our boat motor blew up......first the upper unit and once it was replaced, the lower unit went out. It hasn't been a banner Spring for the Burns' motorized vehicles, but we just keep plugging away. What else are we to do? We can't just roll over and die, even though our automotive and recreational vehicles have.
I remember a picture I saw in one of Mom's albums. She had photographed their head stone shortly after she and dad bought it eight or ten years ago. The caption, in Mom's handwriting, was, "Not yet!" She definitely lived by the saying, "Never Say Die." She was a fighter to the end. I may have mentioned this before, but most people didn't realize how sick she was b/c she just kept going. For her, "never say die " meant "not yet." But even in life she was tenacious. If she couldn't figure out how to make something work on a pattern she was sewing, she just kept at it until she figured it out. When she wanted Dad to build an addition to their house (he's done three), she just kept after him until she finally convinced him they could make it work.
When I think I can't possibly survive one more day, I must remind myself that the end is "not yet" if I "never say die.
Enough of the etymology and derivation lesson, the reason this phrase rings true for me today is b/c the alternator in my car decided to die. Of course I was 15 miles from home, but at least I was in Spirit Lake where I could get help and a new battery to at least get me back home. Two months ago the fuel pump had to be replaced (my '01 Ford Escape has over 125,000 miles on it), and my daughter's car needed new brake lines. Then Maddy's moped battery had to be replaced so she could stop kick-starting it. To top it all off our boat motor blew up......first the upper unit and once it was replaced, the lower unit went out. It hasn't been a banner Spring for the Burns' motorized vehicles, but we just keep plugging away. What else are we to do? We can't just roll over and die, even though our automotive and recreational vehicles have.
I remember a picture I saw in one of Mom's albums. She had photographed their head stone shortly after she and dad bought it eight or ten years ago. The caption, in Mom's handwriting, was, "Not yet!" She definitely lived by the saying, "Never Say Die." She was a fighter to the end. I may have mentioned this before, but most people didn't realize how sick she was b/c she just kept going. For her, "never say die " meant "not yet." But even in life she was tenacious. If she couldn't figure out how to make something work on a pattern she was sewing, she just kept at it until she figured it out. When she wanted Dad to build an addition to their house (he's done three), she just kept after him until she finally convinced him they could make it work.
When I think I can't possibly survive one more day, I must remind myself that the end is "not yet" if I "never say die.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Thursday, 03 June 2010 -- Day 165 (178)
Normally by this time of summer break, I've completed at least one major project w/ plans to complete three or four more for the summer. This is my time for painting, gardening, and cleaning/organizing with a lot of softball thrown in the mix. Since Mom's death, I've lost my motivation. I've never been a strong believer in extrinsic motivators, but apparently Mom had more influence on my actions than I realized. Instead of painting the foundation of our house, which was to be my first project, I just want to nap and read pointless novels. So today I enacted what I'm calling, the Law of Opposite Reaction to Contrary Actions (O.R.C.A.). The way this works is that any time I think about wanting to take a nap or read a novel or anything that would be contrary to being productive, I do just the opposite. So this morning when I wanted to go back to bed after getting breakfast for the girls and seeing them off to school, I instead cleaned the kitchen, did laundry, and straightened up Kenzie's room. I allowed myself to read for 30 minutes while I had lunch, but when I wanted to keep reading, I went to my office to write a letter of recommendation for a student. When I got home and wanted to sit on the deck and read and snooze, I mowed the lawn instead.
It's important for me not to think; kinda like Kevin Costner's line in Bull Durham when he tells Tim Robbins to "Don't think, Meat. Just throw." I have a tendency to think, and re-think, and over-think everything, which is why it's important for me to follow my Law of ORCA. I will not think, I will just act. I will be conscientious about incorporating fun, which is where the softball and gardening come in, but whenever I feel the urge to take a nap I will take an opposite reaction to this contrary action and be productive. I can't just be a bum for three months; I just don't have it in me b/c Mom's in me and she could never sit for long periods of time either........except when she was reading. Near the end she would get so upset w/ herself for not getting more done in her day, but then she listed off that she had cooked, cleaned the bathroom, and washed clothes. And that was while she was fighting four cancers.
I hereby solemnly swear to: 1) stop feeling sorry for myself; 2) stop blaming Mom for not being here to motivate me; 3) think What Would Mom Do (WWMD) and then do it; and 4) follow the Law of ORCA.
It's important for me not to think; kinda like Kevin Costner's line in Bull Durham when he tells Tim Robbins to "Don't think, Meat. Just throw." I have a tendency to think, and re-think, and over-think everything, which is why it's important for me to follow my Law of ORCA. I will not think, I will just act. I will be conscientious about incorporating fun, which is where the softball and gardening come in, but whenever I feel the urge to take a nap I will take an opposite reaction to this contrary action and be productive. I can't just be a bum for three months; I just don't have it in me b/c Mom's in me and she could never sit for long periods of time either........except when she was reading. Near the end she would get so upset w/ herself for not getting more done in her day, but then she listed off that she had cooked, cleaned the bathroom, and washed clothes. And that was while she was fighting four cancers.
I hereby solemnly swear to: 1) stop feeling sorry for myself; 2) stop blaming Mom for not being here to motivate me; 3) think What Would Mom Do (WWMD) and then do it; and 4) follow the Law of ORCA.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Wednesday, 02 June 2010 -- Day 164 (177)
Wednesdays are my tennis nights. I rediscovered my love for tennis about eight years ago, and this group of ladies has been playing ever since. Many times we end up laughing more than playing, but we've made some wonderful memories and managed to improve our games a little along the way. Maddy is going to join the tennis team next year as a freshman in high school. She came down to the courts and played a few games of doubles w/ us tonight. She did very, very well for her first time playing w/ anyone other than Doug or me. She had some very nice serve returns and has a great eye for the court to know where to place the ball. I'm excited to be able to share this love of tennis w/ Maddy, and I hope we're able to play together for many, many years to come.
I may have mentioned this before, but the times that my sister and I played tennis w/ Mom, whoever wanted to win put Mom on the other team. We always joked about this w/ Mom; she knew tennis wasn't her game, especially since she learned the game in her early 50's. She just loved spending time w/ both her daughters. I sometimes envy the mothers and daughters and sisters and aunts who get together for "Girls Night Out" or weekends away or holiday shopping events. We never created any kind of tradition like that, but I hope to do this w/ my daughters. The older I get the more I realize the importance of female relationships in helping us feel connected w/ something bigger than ourselves...to make sense of our own feelings by understanding that other females feel as we do. I love my relationship w/ my husband and my father and my brother, but "I enjoy being a girl," and they just don't get that!
I may have mentioned this before, but the times that my sister and I played tennis w/ Mom, whoever wanted to win put Mom on the other team. We always joked about this w/ Mom; she knew tennis wasn't her game, especially since she learned the game in her early 50's. She just loved spending time w/ both her daughters. I sometimes envy the mothers and daughters and sisters and aunts who get together for "Girls Night Out" or weekends away or holiday shopping events. We never created any kind of tradition like that, but I hope to do this w/ my daughters. The older I get the more I realize the importance of female relationships in helping us feel connected w/ something bigger than ourselves...to make sense of our own feelings by understanding that other females feel as we do. I love my relationship w/ my husband and my father and my brother, but "I enjoy being a girl," and they just don't get that!
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Tuesday, 01 June 2010 -- Day 163 (176)
I finished the last of my grading for the fast track class......now my summer can begin in earnest. Kenzie talked w/ one of these fast track students who happened to be talking to one of my former students. My husband and in-laws like to tease me that my students probably call me "Bitchy Burns" so Kenzie asked these students if that was true. They both agreed that it wasn't, that I was tough but very fair. This assessment pleased me b/c I try very hard to be fair in my grading and in my treatment of all students. I learned that fairness from Mom. For example, she worked hard to keep all of our Christmas presents equal, almost down to the penny. She wanted to make sure none of us thought she loved any one of us more or less than the others. As another example, when I received my master's degree, my family gathered at a restaurant to celebrate my accomplishment. Mom and Dad gave me a beautiful piece of luggage, and then Mom proceeded to hand out envelopes w/ money to each of my siblings w/ the same amount as they spent on my luggage. She had to keep it equal, keep it fair. My husband thought this was unnecessary, but I knew, as a mother, she didn't want any of her kids to feel better than the others. It keeps us humble, that no matter what we accomplish, we're not any better than anyone else.
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