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.