Sunday, 31 October 2010 -- Day 315 (328)

We went to church w/ Dad this morning. The children's sermon was about Zacchaeus. Of course all the kids knew it b/c Mom had taught them both the Bible story and the song: "Zacchaeus was a wee, little man. A wee, little man was he.  He climbed up in a Sycamore tree for the Lord he wanted to see." I could see her doing the hand motions as she led the kids during music time.  Yep, that brought the tears. It brought them again just now recalling it.


I love visiting Dad, but leaving him is so very hard, especially now that I have to leave him alone w/ no one to help him w/ his eye drops.  Before I left I had to check the basement television set to make sure no buttons had been switched that wouldn't allow him to watch videos and DVD's down there.  He had a video, dated 14 April 2001, that we used to make sure everything was set up properly.  In the video, we were all there at Mom and Dad's for the Easter weekend, and I was actually videotaping so that meant that occasionally we could see Mom.  She was watching her grandchildren and great grandchildren dance to a Wiggles video.  The smile on her face was huge, and even after all the other adults left the room, she stayed to watch them.  She truly loved children.....hers and everyone else's. 

Saturday, 30 October 2010 -- Day 314 (327)

It was Beggar's Night in Aplington.  Maddy, Doug, and I each took turns handing out candy at Dad's.  This was always Mom's job in past years.  Dad would sit and watch for the trick-or-treaters, while Mom was elsewhere in the house doing stuff....she rarely had much sit-in-her-pants.  When he saw some coming to the door, he'd holler out, and she'd go hand out the candy.  She loved seeing all the kids in their costumes, and she knew most of them.  All her Sunday School kids had to stop by to show her their costumes.  Us being here to night was partly to ease the transition of yet another tradition, and also I wanted to be here to help Dad w/ the drops for his eyes.  He had cataract surgery on Thursday and has to put multiple drops in his eyes multiple times throughout the day.  His hands shake quite a bit, so he doesn't feel comfortable doing it himself.  Ron had been doing this since Monday so I came to take the weekend shift, but Dad's going to have to do it on his own tomorrow night when I'm gone.  I'm beginning to think Aunt Irene was right when she said women make better widows than men make widowers. 

While playing cards tonight, Dad referred to me as Lucy.  I was sitting in her chair and keeping score as she always did so I guess it just slipped.  He knew his mistake immediately, and it shook him up a little after he realized it.  I am getting a little concerned that he's becoming more confused and forgetful about simple things.  He has a remote control plug that can be put on his portable heater, but this afternoon he couldn't figure out how to hook it up.  This is something he's done for years, and he had all the parts, but it just wasn't clicking in his head how the heater hooked into the remote control plug and then into the outlet.  Dad is amazingly mechanically inclined so this was really atypical.  I'm hoping his eye surgery still has him a little loopy and that's the cause. 

Friday, 29 October 2010 -- Day 313 (326)

Driving to Dad's tonight, I was wondering what my life will be like in five years.   Maddy will be done w/ her studies at Iowa Lakes Community College and moving out of the house to transfer to another college.  Kenzie will  be graduating from college and possibly starting grad school.  Up until now I've had a definite plan and direction to my life.  I've been a daughter, a student, a teacher, a mom, and a wife so I asked myself what I wanted to be next, and where I wanted to be doing it.  The answer I came up w/ is, "What does it matter?  Mom isn't here and Dad probably won't be in five years.  So what happens when I stop being a daughter?"  I know I need to live for now, but it's just out-of-character for me not to have at least a five-year plan.  I'm realizing that I never built this part of my life into my plan.  I never thought what my life would be like when my parents are gone and my children are grown.  The thing is, however, that I've never wanted to plan for this part, and I'm still not looking forward to it.  Yes, this is denial.  Recognizing it and putting a name to it doesn't make it any easier.

Thursday, 28 October 2010 -- Day 312 (325)

The other night I mentioned that I've been shocked at how grieving has affected my sleep.  It also shocks me that my grief can rear up so unexpectedly.  Kenzie and I went through her baby boxes looking for t-shirts that she wants on her graduation quilt.  In looking through one box, we came across her first Easter dress, pink w/ white polka dots and frilly, lace trim.  Seeing that dress again after 16 years caught me off guard.  The tears were spilling, and my chest was heaving before I knew what hit me.  Mom made that dress for Kenzie.  She was so much a part of my daughters' childhoods that I saw Kenzie and Maddy wearing each one of those outfits w/ Mom holding them on the swing, in a kitchen chair, or on the patio.  A little, pink, polka-dot dress did all that.  It takes a lot of love sewn in to have that affect.

Wednesday, 27 October 2010 -- Day 311 (324)

The last two nights I've dreamt that each of my grand nephews has been asleep, and not just asleep but hibernating on a storage shelf.  My daughter Maddy is there w/ me, and we try to wake them, but they're sleeping sound.  She picks them up and their arms and legs just flop like rag dolls, but eventually they wake up.  And that's the end of the dream.  Dreammoods.com says that seeing someone else sleeping in my dream means there's a situation that's alluding me.  The fact that these children don't know that I'm watching them could mean that I have some knowledge or talent that I haven't yet realized.  Seeing Maddy in my dreams means there's something in my life I'm trying to nurture.  I guess it's quite obvious then that I know something, and I want it to grow, but I just haven't told myself what it is.  I hate it when I do that. 

While searching for the meanings of this dream, I found an interpretation about a parent dreaming that a grown child is young again.  That reminded me that when I was in my early 20's, shortly after my divorce and living in Texas, Mom told me that when she dreamed about me, I was always a little girl.  Dream Moods says this meant she was still seeing me as dependent and that she didn't feel needed and important.  Why didn't I see that back then?  I remember that she had asked me if I wanted her to come down to Austin to help me while I was going through the divorce.  I told her that wasn't necessary b/c it would just be too hard to see her go back home again.  Obviously I should've let her come down.  She needed me to need her, and I blew her off.  How could I have been so incredibly selfish?  And what makes it worse is that I didn't even realize it until now, at a time when there's nothing I can do to make amends w/ her.  Yes, I can promise to be a better mother, wife, sister, daughter to Dad, and friend, but that doesn't let Mom know that I needed her then just as much as I need her now.  Maybe this is what has been alluding me.

Tuesday, 26 October 2010 -- Day 310 (323)

I gave blood today.  While the blood extraction specialist was cleaning the crook of my arm w/ iodine and a very light touch, I started to giggle.  Yes, literally giggle while sitting on the extraction table.  She couldn't stop b/c she needed my arm to be sterile, and I couldn't stop b/c once I start to giggle I'm like a roller coaster that keeps going to the end of the ride.  One lady in my extraction pod said that she'd never had so much fun while giving blood.  I've noticed that I've been giggling more lately.  I've been giggling more while wrestling w/ my daughters and while sitting at the dinner table w/ my family.  Just being silly and giggling.  It feels good.

Mom used to tell this story about the first time she gave blood.  The extraction specialist told her to squeeze the ball whenever she breathed.  After awhile, Mom didn't think she was breathing quickly enough so she started squeezing more frequently and pumping away.  As you might guess, when she went to stand up she got light headed and started to faint.  Dad, who had been giving blood right next to her, saw her start to go down, and tried to catch her, which in turn caused him to almost faint.  She always giggled when telling that story and thinking about the sight of them.  Mom wasn't able to give blood very often, but she was always there helping at the blood drives....smiling, not giggling.

Monday, 25 October 2010 -- Day 309 (322)

Having never mourned the loss of someone close, I've had no idea what to expect on a daily basis.  I never would have fathomed I'd have such difficulty sleeping.  When Mom was sick,  my nightly prayers were pleas to heal her, and I always made a conscious effort to say, "please."  I think too many times we ask God for things, and we forget our manners.  Lately, however, I've tried in my nightly prayers to only focus on the "thank you's."  I'm trying to handle the pleas more on my own.  I have a quote that I keep in my office.  Last year I put it on the wall behind my desk so I'd be reminded of it every day.  This year I put it in my closet.  Maybe I need to get it back out.  It says, "Sometimes God calms the storm, and sometimes He lets the storm rage and calms the child."  Mourning is about accepting that the storm is going to rage around me, and I can't do anything about it.  Accepting that Mom is gone for always, and accepting that I will have times when I can't sleep, or don't feel like eating, or have no desire for conversation.  I'm noticing though that if I keep my prayers focused on appreciation rather than appeals, my last thoughts before drifting off are not of Mom.  And then I seem to sleep better. 

Sunday, 24 October 2010 -- Day 308 (321)

Kenzie returned home safely last night from her first trip away by herself.  She drove to SDSU in Brookings, SD Friday after school and stayed w/ her cousin in the dorms.  It was a wonderful experience for her as she continues to do more to strike out on her own.  I'm actually pretty proud of myself in that I wasn't calling or texting her every five minutes.  I wish Mom was here so I could ask her how she dealt w/ this time in child rearing.  It had to be incredibly difficult to see Ron move to Los Angeles, David to Alabama, Lori to Houston, and me to Austin....each when we were in our early 20's.  I do know that in the 80's before the era of cell phones, we made arrangements to talk on Sunday nights.  I remember waiting anxiously by the phone and don't ever recall thinking it was a chore to have to talk to my parents.  Perhaps time has faded any false feelings, but I think that's a gift the passage of time renders.  We forget the faults and foibles.  I hope those who know me will be so forgiving when I'm gone......better yet, I hope they can forgive me my flaws while I'm still here.

The last time I was home to see Dad, we looked through their lockbox.  This is an old one that is kept in a closet, not in the bank.  Amongst all the copies of legal documents was the first letter I wrote to Mom and Dad when I went off to college. In it I didn't talk about anything particularly sentimental, but she kept it for 28 years.  After I read it, Dad took it and put it right back into the lockbox.  He doesn't want to change anything inside the house.  When he or Ron or I dust and vacuum, we put everything right back the way it was.  Mom kept my room exactly the way I left it when I went to college, and it stayed that way for 10 years after.  My siblings called it The Shrine.  Maybe that's part of how Mom dealt w/ me going to college and leaving her w/ an empty nest.  She kept the nest in tact just like Dad is doing now.

Saturday, 23 October 2010 -- Day 307 (320)

I should clarify something about last night's post.  My inspiration for the story was some of the sayings and songs I remember Mom using.  I find myself using them all the time but take for granted that others don't know what I mean.  Probably the expression that I associate w/ her the most is, "a lick and a promise," in relation to any task that she only had time to do halfway.  She'd do the task quickly then promise to do it twice as good next time.

Since I teach communication, I'm always fascinated by how people say things and the different meanings that could be assigned.  We need to recall and record all these expressions from our parents and grandparents to help put their lives and times into perspective.  I worry w/ this texting generation that all they'll have to pass down is "lol" and "prly" and "idk." (The spellcheck has just short-circuited b/c it doesn't recognize any of these.)

Friday, 22 October 2010 -- Day 306 (319)

Sometimes story ideas just come to me, and I have to get them down before they're lost.  This is what happened when I sat down at the computer two hours ago, and the story below is the result of the last 120 minutes.  Pictures would really make this story come alive so if there's anyone out there who's an illustrator....let me know!

A Lick and a Promise


by

Mari Miller Burns



Lucy was spending the day with her grandmother. It was Wednesday, and she always stayed with her grandmother on Wednesday because she only went to preschool on days that started with a “T.” Since this day started with a “W,” she was spending it with Grammy.

“Let’s go, Lucy,” sang Grammy. “We need to run to the store.”

“Do we really have to run all the way to the store, Grammy?” asked Lucy.

“No, my dear. That’s just an expression.”

“What’s a spression?”

“E-X-P-R-E-S-S-I-O-N. That just means it’s one way to say something,” Grammy explained. “Now let’s put on our coats.”

Grammy always sang the same song each time they had to bundle up for colder weather.

“’Zip up you jacket, put on your cap. Mister South Wind is taking a nap. Mister North Wind will nip at your nose and freeze your fingers and your toes.’”

“Did Mister South Wind really have to take naps like she did?” Lucy wondered. She thought he probably snored if he did.

When Grammy sang the word nip, she’d tweak Lucy’s nose, and that made her think Mister North Wind was probably too nice to turn her fingers and toes into icicles.

At the store, Lucy smiled at all the chocolate bars and suckers and jaw breakers. She looked over at her hand wrapped in Grammy’s hand, followed it all the way up to Grammy’s face and whispered, “I wish I could have all the candy in the world.”

The man behind the counter said, “If wishes were fishes, we’d all have a fry.”

Grammy laughed. Lucy looked confused. She’d wanted candy, not fishes.

Just then a sweet smiling lady came over to Lucy and handed her a licorice whip. “Go ahead, Child, it won’t bite,” said Sweet Smile.

“That’s silly,” thought Lucy. “The licorice can’t bite me. That’s what I want to do to the licorice.” She looked cautiously at the candy just to make sure it didn’t have any teeth then she looked to Grammy for a sign that it was okay to take it.

As Grammy nodded, she reminded Lucy, “What do you say?”

“Thank you,” chirped Lucy and sat on a banana box by the meat counter while Grammy visited with Sweet Smile.

As Lucy listened, she heard Sweet Smile say, “Well if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black.”

Lucy looked up from her licorice. “How could a pot talk?” she wondered. The thought made Lucy giggle, and the giggle made Lucy gag.

Grammy rushed over, pulled Lucy’s hands above her head and said, “That must have gone down your Sunday throat, Little Lucy.”

“But, Grammy,” sputtered Lucy. “It’s Wednesday.”

“I know, Sweetie. That’s just an expression. I think we’d better be going.”

After lunch it was time for Lucy’s nap. Grammy always sang the same song:

” I love you, a bushel and a peck,

a bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck,

a hug around the neck and a barrel and a peep,

barrel and a peep and I’m talkin in my sleep,

about you…. about you….

I love you, a bushel and a peck,

you bet your pretty neck I do!”

Lucy knew a bushel was a basket because that’s what Papa always told her she needed when she tried to shuffle the Old Maid cards. But how could Grammy love her like a basket?

One time she heard Papa ask Grammy for a peck on the cheek, then saw her give him a kiss. So Grammy loved her like a basket with a kiss on the check.

She knew all about hugs around the neck. Grammy had told her she gave the best of those.

She knew what a barrel was because that’s where Grammy kept her rain water, but what did that have to do with a baby chick saying, “peep”?

Lucy didn’t think she talked in her sleep, but she never really knew because that’s where her eyes got heavy and she always missed the peck on the cheek Grammy gave her when the song was done.

After Lucy’s nap, Grammy had cookies and milk waiting on the kitchen table.

“Let me just give this floor a lick and a promise,” Grammy said as Lucy munched on her Snickerdoodle. “Then we’ll go rake up some leaves so you can jump in them.”

Lucy wondered why Grammy would lick the floor and then make it a promise. “What are you going to promise it, Grammy?” Lucy asked.

Grammy just snickered and put the broom away. “That’s just another expression, Honey.”

“You sure use a lot of spressions, Grammy. I guess that’s why you’re so sprecial.”

Thursday, 21 October 2010 -- Day 305 (318)

Making CoCo Wheats this morning for breakfast reminded me of Mom's CoCo Wheats when I was growing up.  She always made us hot breakfasts once school started each fall, a tradition that I've always continued w/ my girls.  I've mentioned before that Mom was an amazing cook, but her CoCo Wheats were terrible.  They were so lumpy and dry that I had to add milk until all flavor was lost.  The thought of those lumpy CoCo Wheats made me smile while stirring them on the stove this morning.  Not b/c of the sweet memory but b/c this was something that I was better at than Mom.  Is it normal for a daughter to feel in competition w/ her mother?  Even w/ her memory? 

I've always compared my cooking, housekeeping, mothering, community service, and work ethic to Mom's.  And when I felt that she was edging ahead in the mothering or homemaking departments, I would rationalize that she wasn't a full-time employee outside the home while being a full-time mom.  She only ever worked part-time jobs and that wasn't until I was in elementary school.  I've been working full-time jobs since I was 20 and been a full-time mom on top of that since I was 29.  What am I saying?  It was never a competition for her.  She always conceded that she never had to contend w/ two, full-time jobs, but I never wanted her concession.  And I sure as hell don't like winning by default b/c she's dropped out of the competition. 

Wednesday, 20 October 2010 -- Day 304 (317)

Dad's excited about going to the Amish country tomorrow.  This has been an annual trip that he and Mom made w/ my Aunt Irene, Aunt Jean, and cousins Myron and Carol.  Last year Mom was w/ them.  She loved those types of outings, day trips w/ friends or family to see new sights or revisit old ones.  Shortly after Mom passed last year, I was concerned Dad wouldn't want to continue these trips and traditions.  I know they're hard for him, but staying home alone is even harder.  He's discovering he's stronger than he ever imagined.  Mom was always the strong one so he never really had to be. 

There were times, years ago, that I would think about Dad being gone and Mom being left alone.  I don't want to say that I looked forward to that time, but I thought it would give Mom and me a chance to travel and spend time, just the two of us.  I am glad that I've had the chance to get closer to Dad.  When Mom was alive, he'd talk on the phone to me for a few minutes and then would excuse himself to go watch TV while Mom and I continued to talk.  Now, some nights we talk for 30-45 minutes.  I never thought this possible a year ago, but then there's a lot of things I never thought possible a year ago.

Tuesday, 19 October 2010 -- Day 303 (316)

I had to watch It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.  I bought the DVD several years ago so I can watch it multiple times leading up to Halloween.  Linus is definitely my favorite.  His innocence and unyielding faith inspire me. 

Such an amazing night...full moon, crisp air, clear sky.  I don't know which star is located just below the moon tonight, but it's so brilliant it makes the moon even brighter.  What a beautiful relationship that something so small, rather than being outdone or out shown by the moon, enhances it.  Makes me think that my infinitely small life life has something to contribute to the universe.  Maybe that's the meaning of life, that we make all other life around us that much brighter and better just by being close.  That was certainly the meaning of Mom's life. 

I was also thinking tonight how the last time I wrote about being blissfully happy, the bottom fell out of my life.  I'm tired of being afraid to be happy, worrying that the happiness is short-lived.  I'd rather have fleeting moments of happiness to sustain me through the sad times than worry when the sad times will return.  They will return, and I'll make it through.  But it would be really nice if I could have seven-weeks of bliss and one day of sadness.  The hope that this is possible keeps me going.

Monday, 18 October 2010 -- Day 302 (315)

Last night I dreamt that I was unpacking boxes and organizing a house.  I don't even have to look that one up to know that I'm feeling in greater control.  I'm caught up w/ my grading and ready to submit midterm grades.  I only need to get the girls' curtains hung and the inside of my house will be put back together.  I'm in a good place.  Now I can start getting the outside ready for winter.

I played the piano tonight.  I mean really played it.  For me.  I wasn't accompanying anyone or being a rhythm instrument.  I was playing Chopin and Bach and Mozart and Mendelssohn and Rimsky-Korsakoff for me.  I haven't played  most of these pieces in over a year b/c I haven't felt inspired to do so.  Playing the piano was probably what Mom loved for me to do the most.  When I lived in Texas, I made a recording of myself playing all kinds of songs: sacred, secular, classical, country, pop and sent it to her.  She would set the tape recorder on the piano bench in the living room and listen to me play while she was in the kitchen cooking or doing dishes.  She said it made her feel like I was right there in the next room.  I wish there was a way I could play a recording now of her rattling around in my kitchen. 

I have the bedroom suit that Mom and Dad had when I was growing up.  Even now as I open the drawers to the dresser and bureau, the clanging of the handles against the drawers brings me back to the days when I slept in the bedroom just above their room.  And I hear the muffled sounds of Mom and Dad through my bedroom floor as they talk about their days and say goodnight.  I don't ever want to lose those sounds or sights or smells.  I hope reading this blog again in years to come will help me recall them all.

Sunday, 17 October 2010 -- Day 301 (314)

I woke up w/ a sty on my eye.  I have no idea what exactly a sty is, but it must be some type of infection.  And thanks to Mom's home remedy, I got rid of it.  I boiled water, poured it over a tea bag, then wrapped the teabag around a teaspoon, and put it on the sty to draw out the infection.  It worked, like always, just like Mom taught me.  One of the things that scares me is not having Mom around to give me all those suggestions for what worked for her in the past and all the home remedies her mother taught her.

P.S. I had a very lonely image today.....Ron and I sitting at the table on Mon & Dad's four-season porch filling out thank-you's for Dad's funeral.  When we did that after Mom's funeral, Dad opened all the cards then handed them to us to record them and write the thank-you's.  Who will be there when Dad's gone?

Saturday, 16 October 2010 -- Day 300 (313)

Sixty-five more days.  Sixty-five more entries.  One thousand, five hundred sixty hours.  When I look back at where I started 313 days ago when Mom died, I didn't think I could possibly make it through one minute w/o her.  Then one minute turned to one hour, and I was driving Dad's van back to their house.  One hour turned to one day and planning her funeral.  One day turned to one week, and I was staying w/ Dad to help him adjust.  One week turned to one month, and I was throwing myself back into teaching.  One of Mom's favorite religious songs just came to mind, in fact it was a song I had selected for her funeral until we found her selections.  I think Kris Kristofferson wrote it, but Mom always listened to the Cristy Lane recording: "One day at a time, Sweet Jesus.  That's all I'm asking of you.  .......  Lord, help me today.  Show me the way.  One day at a time."

Friday, 15 October 2010 -- Day 299 (312)

I got up this morning and made cupcakes.  I heard Mom's voice in my head last night as I was falling asleep, "You can get up a little earlier and make them."   I just made white frosting so now Maddy and her gal pals can make them any color they want.  They'll be home from the football game any minute so I'd better finish this before the chaos returns.

It still hits me, that sinking feeling that catches in my throat and punches its way down into my gut.  Mom is gone.  It scares me when that happens b/c not only does the reality return, but I worry that the feeling comes upon me so suddenly b/c I haven't thought about her enough today.  And tonight while walking Kea through the leaves I thought about the song Mom used to teach her Sunday school kids at this time of the year.  "Brown leaves crunching when we talk. Air that is frosty when we talk."  If I'm really quiet in these moments before the teenage topsy-turviness, I can almost hear her singing it.

Thursday, 14 October 2010 -- Day 298 (311)

I will have six teenage girls in my house tomorrow night.  Maddy's having a sleepover.  We went to WalMart this afternoon to get supplies, and tonight Maddy wanted me to bake cupcakes or a cake, but I've lost my motivation.  I never had many slumber parties, as we called them back then, but I remember a couple of boy/girl parties.  I only got one birthday party w/ my friends when I was 10.  All other birthdays were celebrated w/ family members and maybe just one friend.  I don't recall minding it that much, and I do recall several times that stand out in my memory.  For one of my birthdays, my friend, Pam, spent the night.  Bodysuits were popular back then so we took off our pants and pretended to be gymnasts doing somersaults across my double bed.  With my friend, Brenda, we talked and talked, but after awhile I said we had to turn out the light b/c I was afraid it would cost my parents too much money to have the light burning.  My friend, Deb, stayed w/ me one week while my parents went on vacation w/ some friends.  My bedroom floor was lost under all the dirty clothes that piled up.  Thinking back now that took a lot of trust for my parents and Deb's parents to allow two high school seniors to spend a week home alone.  I'd like to think that I would have that kind of trust w/ my daughters.  Doug wouldn't.

Mom probably would've baked those cupcakes, but I'm going to bed.

Wednesday, 13 October 2010 -- Day 297 (310)

I have been thinking lately how, even as a woman in my mid-40's, I looked forward to going to my mom's to have her spoil me.  I knew that a weekend w/ her meant no cooking or laundry or diaper changes when my girls were little.  A weekend w/ Mom was like a vacation.  I won't have that ever again.  Now I realize how incredibly selfish that is b/c Mom never had a mother to spoil her and give her a mini-vacation.

So while I was feeling sorry for myself last night while trying to fall asleep, I asked for Mom's help once again.  I asked her to hold my hand until I fell asleep.  I swear on my mother's grave, and I can actually do that now, that this is what happened.  While my eyes were closed I saw a flash of light, and I felt a warmth on my right hand.  It was the most peaceful, relaxing feeling I've had in quite some time.  Then just as I was about to drop off, I felt the room get very cold.  I squeezed Mom's hand twice, rolled over, and fell fast asleep.  Just a few nights ago I was sitting up w/ Maddy, rubbing her back until she fell asleep.  It was comforting to know I could still go to Mom just as my daughters come to me. 

Tuesday, 12 October 2010 -- Day 296 (309)

Memories of Mom pop into my head constantly throughout my days.  Most of the time they have no provocation; they just appear.  One came to me today while working in my office, but w/ the insane traffic of students through my revolving door, I didn't have a chance to jot anything down.  I've been sitting here at the computer now for 30 minutes trying to remember the memory, but nothing's coming.  I know it was a happy one b/c I remember smiling as I told a student.  I guess that will have to suffice....that warm, fuzzy feeling b/c the brain is on disconnect.

Monday, 11 October 2010 -- Day 295 (308)

I'm so jealous of women who have mothers, even women I don't know, simply b/c they can call, visit, hug their mothers.  I'm even jealous of the women who don't currently get along w/ their mothers b/c they still have the opportunity.  Just don't wait too long.  Death waits for no man.........or woman.

Sunday, 10 October 2010 -- Day 294 (307)

It's 10/10/10 today.  Such a, for lack of a better term, tri-fecta will happen only twice more this century, which means I'll never see this again.  It is comforting to think that someone on 10 October 1910 was thinking the same thing as was someone on 10 October 1810, and someone on 10 October 2110 will also.  It was an ordinary day.  Wish I could say it was a magical day, and I guess it was b/c I'm alive to see it.

Walking Kea tonight, we went passed a house where I could hear the mother yelling at her children about getting to bed right then, or they'd be going to bed earlier tomorrow night.  It sounded so horrible coming through their open windows to threaten the calm, quiet evening.  I know I've yelled similar ultimatums at my daughters when they were younger, but I don't ever remember Mom yelling things like that at me.  I don't remember her yelling at me, period.  Maybe, being the youngest, I didn't suffer the threats b/c she'd figured out the whole mother thing by the time she got around to raising me.  I have an unusual sibling relationship in that Ron is 16 years older than I, David 14 years, and Lori six years.  Each of us, except for David, is basically the oldest child.  A family w/ three, oldest children is bound to be screwed up, right?  Maybe Mom did yell at me and I just don't remember it.  I actually hope that's the case b/c that means there's hope that my girls won't remember me yelling at them.

Saturday, 09 October 2010 -- Day 293 (306)

I'm beginning to get a better grasp on the dynamics of Mom and Dad's relationship.  Whenever Dad would get in his grumpy, gripey mode, Mom was the voice of reason.  He would never admit that she made sense or had good points, but he always listened, and by the time he was done complaining, he saw things differently. I know he did this b/c it's a trait that I inherited and unfortunately passed on to my daughters.  Now w/o Mom, Dad has no one at whom to vent so Ron and I take the brunt of it.  I always knew Mom was a saint for putting up w/ Dad's moods, but I really, really appreciate her patience.  I just want to scream at him, "It's just a penny more," and "It's not the cashier's problem if the juice was put on the wrong shelf."  Instead I just mumble some unintelligible utterances.  I've always been the peace-maker in the family so I'm unaccustomed to talking back to him or anyone in my family.  My concern, however, is that if Dad goes unchecked w/ this complaining, he'll alienate himself. 

I know he's overcompensating for not having an adequate education.  He was forced to quit school in 6th grade and has always felt dumb.  I know it's frustrating for him to rely on others to write out his checks and pay his bills and balance his checkbook and fill out his medical forms.  These were all things that Mom used to do.   He thinks it's too late for him to learn all these things so he takes these frustrations out on innocent individuals.  His frustrations then put me in a pissy mood that I take out on my loved ones.  How did Mom always stay so positive and upbeat? 

Friday, 08 October 2010 -- Day 292 (305)

Returning to my office after lunch today, my feet were dragging.  I heard Mom's voice say, "Pick up your feet when you walk."  Sorry, Mom, but I was tired, and quite frankly, I liked the shuffling sound of my boots against the sidewalk.  I know you always thought it was sloppy, but I had a pretty good rhythm going....flip, swish, flop, swoosh.

Thursday, 07 October 2010 -- Day 291 (304)

You gotta love small town Iowa where, even living in town, you can still see deer walk by your open window and smell the remnants of a skunk.   Maybe they were all interested in the stale cornbread I threw out earlier this evening.  I'm starting to regain an interest in cooking and cleaning.  I made cornbread and chili several days ago last weekend, but the chili went faster, and Doug was tired of cornbread and syrup for breakfast so out it went.  I finally got my Autumn decorations up last night.  Seasonal and holiday decorations always make me think of Mom.  Last year at this time she had out the wooden leaves that Dad cut out for her and she painted years ago.  We were talking about bringing in our plants when the nights got colder, and what we were going to do for Thanksgiving.  Thanksgiving is going to be really tough this year since it's the last holiday that she was with us.  I will forever see her standing in the window in her red and blue vest apron waving to us for the last time as we went beep-beep around the corner.

I just realized that I forgot to call Dad tonight....that's two nights in a row that I haven't talked to him.  I imagine the reason he didn't call me is b/c he knows I have a bad chest cold and hearing me cough and wheeze probably makes him think of Mom. I think he tries as hard as I do to remember Mom when she was healthy. 

It was around this season two years ago that I got the opportunity to write some column pieces for the free weekly here in town.  I sent them all to Mom.  She printed them all out and passed them around to other friends and family.  I came across the copies I sent her the last time I was home visiting Dad.  She always encouraged my writing, but I always felt like I never encouraged hers as much as she did mine.  Why did I always feel so inadequate when praising my own mother's writing?  I could praise her cooking and her sewing and her cleaning and her appearance and her community work but not her writing.  Was I jealous?  I know I have no talent in most of these other areas, so did I feel threatened in an area that we had in common?   There is no good reason so the lesson here is to praise often and sincere.

Wednesday, 06 October 2010 -- Day 290 (303)

I dreamt about Mom again last night.  That's been happening more lately, and last night she spoke to me.  I was in a hospital room w/ two beds and two recliners, and I think my daughters were in the room w/ us too.  I was in one bed, and I told Mom that she should sleep in the other bed, but she said, "No, I'll sleep in the recliner."  At that point Maddy's band teacher came marching through our room, and the whole scene shifted to me driving Ron's white Chrysler convertible w/ red interior.  The top was down, and it was raining. 

Once again I turn to my dream interpretation website, http://www.dreammoods.com.  Being in a hospital means I have a need to improve my mental and/or physical health.  Well, that's right on the money considering I've had this cold for five days now.  Apparently Mom was there to take care of me just like I talked about in last night's entry.  Maybe the girls were there w/ me b/c I'm concerned about their physical and mental health as well.......yep, I'd say that's right on the money too. 

Seeing Maddy's band teacher gets a little tricky.  Since she isn't exactly my teacher, I'm not sure if this applies, but to dream of a past or present teacher means I'm seeking advice or guidance.  I certainly could use the assistance of someone who has dealt w/ the traumatic teen years, especially the trauma of a teen w/ a chronic illness.  But I'm not usually one who asks for help and assistance.  The website also suggests that dreaming of a teacher means I feel like I'm being "put to the test."  This one is probably closer to the truth since I've felt lately that my ability as a mother has been in question.

To quote Dream Moods: Your Dream Symbol Interpretation (www.dreammoods.com), "To see or dream that you are in a convertible, refers to your glamorous attitude. You are showing off your power and influence."  Wow!  I have a "glamorous attitude."  Must've been all those Bette Davis movies I watched yesterday when I was home sick.  I think, however, being in the convertible in the rain negates that attitude and influence.  Rain can symbolize anything from tears and sadness to cleansing and renewal.  The former is definitely where I'm at.

I think then that my dream last night meant that I have a need to heal mentally and physically, but I'm just so sad right now b/c I feel I'm being tested.  Well, I know the secret to doing well on any test is to get a good night's sleep so that's where I'm headed.  Hope I pass.

Tuesday, 05 October 2010 -- Day 289 (302)

They say horses only go down when they're sick, well this workhorse was down for the day.  I rarely take off from work.....mostly b/c it gets us behind on the material we need to cover, but I just couldn't imagine sitting through 24 speeches today w/ a pounding head.  Being sick, no matter how old we get, makes us long for our mom's, and for just an instant today, I thought how Mom would be able to empathize w/ my cold and achiness.  Then I remembered that I can't tell her how I feel.  So it was encouraging tonight when I talked to Dad to hear him say, "You take care of yourself" just like Mom would've.  I've noticed the last few times I've talked w/ him that he chokes up when we say "good-bye."  Mom used to do that the last year of her life.  Dad said she would be so sad after talking to us kids on the phone, and I can only guess the reason.  There were times when I thought about not calling her b/c it would just leave her sad in the end.  But I knew that not hearing from me would've made her even more sad.  I guess even though she wasn't afraid to die, she was afraid of all that she'd miss in our lives. 

Monday, 04 October 2010 -- Day 288 (301)

I dreamt about Mom last night.  What I mostly remember is the feeling that I had a second chance to be a better listener, a more supportive daughter, her friend.  I know it was a dream b/c at one point I was selected as the Homecoming queen, yet I knew that this couldn't be possible b/c I was never nominated to the court.  Guess I was a write-in candidate.

Grandma Ruth's funeral was today.  Maddy played her flute; she and Kenzie sang Jesus Loves Me while I played the piano.  Grandma had asked us to do this a couple of years ago and then again at her last birthday party.  Despite the girls and me having bad colds, we did it.  Not our best performance, but we did it for Grandma.  This was the first funeral I've been to since Mom's.  I've been to visitations but no funerals.  I held up pretty well; I think being in a fog from my cold actually helped w/ that.  There was one point when one of Doug's cousins was talking about the legacy that Grandma left behind that reminded me of all the people that Mom influenced.  That got me.  This morning I said a prayer to God and to Mom to help me make it through this day both physically and emotionally.  They answered it.  I survived.

Sunday, 03 October 2010 -- Day 287 (300)

Sunday's are the worst for Dad.  Aside from talking to people at church this morning and the potluck this noon, he only talked to Ron this afternoon and to me tonight.  He does get out and about during the week, but for some reason he doesn't go visiting on Sunday's.  Yesterday he went to the Woman's Club plant sale for coffee and a roll.  Mom was in this community organization for years so Dad probably went w/ Mom last year and the year before that and the year before that.  She was always so proud of her community, and she volunteered and participated in community events whenever possible.  I have to admit that I sometimes thought those plant sales and book sales and soup luncheons were a little hokey, but I went w/ her if I was in town b/c I knew it made her happy to show off these community events to me and vice versa. Aplington will always be my hometown, and it's b/c of the hard work of people like Mom that ensure the town will continue.  I envy that feeling of connectedness to a place. 

Saturday, 02 October 2010 -- Day 286 (299)

Stress caused by sadness doesn't seem to have the detrimental physiological affects that stress caused by worry.  Even w/ all the stress of mourning, I never got ill.  Now, after a couple of weeks of worrying about Kenzie, I have a cold.  Despite not feeling well, I had to go to Mankato, MN, about 1 1/2 hours away to get Kenzie's Crohn's medicine from the FedEx store there.  I know that seems strange, but Mayo Specialty Pharmacy shipped it there from Rochester b/c Kenzie needs it first thing Monday.  FedEx doesn't deliver here on Saturdays, and it has to be refrigerated so I spent most of my day in the car.  The 1970's were being featured on the classic rock station so I listened to a 1972 taping of American Top 40 w/ Casey Kasem.  1972 was a great year.  I was in 2nd grade; Mom was 42 and already a four-year survivor of ovarian cancer.  My only worries were .......well, as an eight-year-old, I didn't have any worries.  It's no wonder the music of the 70's has the power to make me feel better.

Friday, 01 October 2010 -- Day 285 (298)

I watched The Green Mile tonight.  As usual, I thought of Mom and others who have suffered.  John Coffey, played by Michael Clarke Duncan, is on death row for murders that he didn't commit.  Paul Edgecomb, played by Tom Hanks, discovers that John is innocent and offers to let him go, but John says he's tired.....of being alone, of feeling all the pain and suffering in the world.  He's ready to die.  That's the point that I thought about Mom and Grandma Ruth and even about Linda, a woman I worked w/ who died of pancreatic cancer almost three years ago.  She lingered for many, many days, and each time she would awake from a nap, her daughter said she looked disappointed that she was still here.  Grandma Ruth had that same look three weeks ago when Doug and I visited her in the hospital.  We woke her, and she looked so sad to realize that she was still w/ us.  Mom had that look when I arrived  in her hospital room to find her intubated.  I think it's a blessing to be ready to die, and I think once we've reached that acceptance we should be allowed to go on our terms, not linger in pain for days and weeks.  We give animals an honorable death.  Mom wouldn't have taken that option, even if she'd been given the choice.  She always believed that God has complete control over life and death.