Tuesday, 31 August 2010 -- Day 254 (267)

I remember the day I told Mom I was pregnant w/ Maddy.  It was about the end of August, 15 years ago.  She and Dad had come to our house for the weekend, probably to help w/ some project.  Most of their visits when Doug and I were first married were for working weekends or babysitting weekends so Doug and I could work.  I thought I would really surprise her w/ my news, but it turned out that she'd already figured it out.  When I asked her how she knew, she said she noticed that I hadn't tucked in my shirt so she figured something was up, or in this case out.  I never could get anything passed her!

I talked to Dad tonight.  He filled all his prescriptions even though he doesn't know what most of them are for.  He also bought a BIG bottle of baby aspirin.....500 tablets.  I took this as a good sign.  But I was obviously still in the mindset of fear b/c when he started to tell me something about the van, the first thing I thought of was him sitting in it in the garage w/ it running.  As I listened closer to his story, I realized he was talking about something completely different.  Normally he keeps his van parked in the garage, but today he left it out in front of the house b/c he had a haircut appointment.  He said as he sat on the front porch looking at the van, it looked like Mom was sitting in the passenger side just like she always did.  He had a difficult time telling me this story b/c he became very emotional, which then caused me to become emotional.  I could see her sitting there too.  It was just like she was there waiting to go w/ him to his appointment.  I told Dad just that, hoping he would find comfort in thinking that Mom was still riding along.  I want to see her there in the passenger side b/c the last year or so, she was so weak and tired that on longer trips she would sleep in the back seat.  Leukemia does that, makes you really tired.

A 36-year-old man from near my hometown died of leukemia last week.  He went into the hospital and three days later he was gone.  He left a wife and three young children.  As much I mourn Mom's loss, we at least had forewarning that she was sick, and even though we were in denial for much of the time, we knew her time w/ us was limited.  This poor, young woman had no warning.  We are all stunned b/c we think of cancer as being a long, debilitating ordeal.  Maybe it was easier to have it all happen so quickly before he had to go through surgery, chemo, radiation, and hundreds of hours spent at doctor appointments.  I'm pretty sure if Dad were diagnosed w/ cancer right now, he'd refuse any kind of medical treatment.  I wouldn't blame him.  Sometimes I think the treatments are worse than the disease.  Mom fought the disease for as long as she could, but she also knew when it was time to give up the fight.  Nothing ever got passed her.

Monday, 30 August 2010 -- Day 253 (266)

In 100 days Mom will have been gone a year.  I talked about her in an impromptu speech that I modeled for my students today.  I was a little uncertain after first bringing her up as to whether or not I could make it through.  A student gave me the quote from Joe Dirt, "Life's a garden, dig it."  I brought up how I shared a love of gardening w/ Mom, and I did choke up a little when I mentioned how I thought that the reason my mum came back was b/c of her. I would consider this progress; I just don't know what I'm progressing toward.

Sunday, 29 August 2010 -- Day 252 (265)

Just when I thought Dad could bend and not break, he hits me w/ this comment this morning at breakfast while sorting out his pills, "I've thought about just not taking them."  I will admit that I've wondered what keeps Dad from joining Mom, but hearing him actually say that he might do something to make that happen puts words to my fears.  I do believe in my heart-of-hearts that he would never do anything to cause his own demise b/c he knows he would never see Mom again.  But taking your own life and not taking life-sustaining medicines may be looked upon differently.  I could be interpreting his comment completely wrong, and I can't say for sure b/c I was too afraid to ask him what he meant by that.  God, you'd think I'd learned my lesson about not always voicing my thoughts and feelings to Mom.  I did remind him to fill his prescriptions tomorrow, and he said he would.  There was definitely a metamessage, a message that's implied within another message, here that I want him to be around for awhile longer. 

Each time I visit him, however, he talks more about matters relating to after his death.  He was concerned about his life insurance policy so I had to check to make sure that, after Mom's death, we kids are listed as his beneficiaries.  We also talked about him selling the house to the four of us kids for a dollar, if that's allowed, so the house won't be part of the estate.  He has his 85th birthday coming up on the 18th of September.  I asked him what he wanted, and the first comment out of his mouth was, "Maybe I won't be around by then."  Okay, all these little things are starting to add up to a big thing so I'm definitely going to have to talk to him about my fears.  There was one sign of looking toward the future.  We talked about seeding over one of Mom's flower beds by the garage next spring b/c it's just too sad to see it like it is now, full of weeds.

For any of you reading this blog who know my dad, please send him a card or give him a call.  I don't think he's adjusting as well as I've been deluding myself into thinking.  I've been so engrossed in my own grief that I haven't been paying attention as to how he's handling his.  Today I wore one of Mom's dresses that I took about a year or so before she died b/c she was going to give it to Goodwill.   Dad didn't know this. Once I was dressed in it this morning for church, Dad recognized it immediately as being one of Mom's.  I'm not so sure now if it was wise for me to wear it in front of him.  He's given me permission several times to take any of her clothes, but I don't think he was prepared for the shock of actually seeing me in something of hers.  I think Maddy is making some progress toward dealing w/ Mom's death.  She agreed to take some of her colored, plastic bracelets.  None of us has watched any of the many videos that she took when my girls were growing up.  She wouldn't be in them, but we'd be able to hear her voice.  I plan to have them showing during Kenzie's high school graduation party next May so I'd better work up the nerve in the next few months.

Saturday, 28 August 2010 -- Day 251 (264)

Driving down to Dad's today, I again saw on the bank of a creek this enormous tree that had blown over a couple of years ago.  Each time I pass it I expect it to be showing signs of death and decay, but even today it looks green and lush.  There's obviously enough of the root structure still in tact and absorbing moisture from the creek.  It's actually looking more like a giant bush now.  The obvious lessons here are: 1) grow where you're planted, 2) make the best of any difficult situation, and 3) even when we start out as one thing, we may very well become another, equally beautiful, equally useful, entity.

Dad reminds me of this tree.  He has lost his grandparents, parents, four siblings, a wife, a granddaughter, and countless aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends.  Yet despite being blown over by all this, he has learned to adapt and keep growing.  The house looks exactly the way it did when Mom was alive, and Dad has learned to cook, clean, and do laundry to keep it that way.  He says he regrets more than ever his sixth-grade education b/c it limits his ability to write out checks, but even that has caused him to reach deep in asking for assistance from family and friends.  Dad has always been the type who rarely asked for help......probably where I learned it.

BTW.....I brought the flower-shaped solar light that I found several weeks ago.  It's really cool in that, after absorbing the sun's rays all day, it turns different colors while glowing at night.....kinda like a perpetual fireworks display.  We can't take it out to Mom's grave yet b/c the road to the cemetery isn't easily accessible while a bridge is being repaired.  So the light is stuck in Mom's front flower bed amongst her budding Mums, lighting up her garden.  Dad thinks its pretty cool so I might have to get another one shaped like a hummingbird for him.

Friday, 27 August 2010 -- Day 250 (263)

Parents and educators are very similar.  We try to give our kids the knowledge and skills that will allow them to figure out any problem and situation.  We provide them the tools now to handle whatever comes their way in the future.  Here's a very simple example.  Remember those brownies I was making last night.  Well, one pan got a little overly done around the edges.  I managed to salvage the inside part, but I didn't want to throw the outsides pieces away.  I remembered a trick Mom taught me about softening up brown sugar when it starts to crystallize, and I hypothesized that it might work to soften up the brownie edges.too  I put the edges in a Ziploc bag w/ a piece of bread this morning, and now that I'm home at lunch, the pieces were softer.  It worked.  Mom gave me a basic tool (slice of bread to soften crystallized foods)  that I was able to apply to another problem beyond the original one (soften brownie edges the same way as brown sugar).  When we learn the basic lessons, we can then apply them to other situations for the rests of our lives.  Through those lessons then our parents and teachers will always be w/ us.

Thursday, 26 August 2010 -- Day 249 (262)

I think it has helped to get to bed at a reasonable time by doing this blog earlier, but it's not happening tonight.  After watching seven games of my daughters' volleyball teams and baking two pans of brownies for tomorrow night's tailgater, it's nearly after 10:30 at night.  This would've been just another typical day for Mom after washing, cleaning, cooking, mending, and making birthday treats for me to take to school or hand washing my softball uniform.  My great grandmother's journals were all about her typical daily activities, and it still amazes me how a woman in the late 19th and early 20th centuries never had time for herself b/c she was always doing for others. Not much changed w/ Mom in the late 20th and early 21st centuries.  I still believe that she kept a journal; I just haven't found it.  My sister gave her one for Christmas many years ago, and I thought one time she told me that she had filled it up.  Or maybe she said she needed to start writing to fill it up.  Why didn't I listen better then?  I keep thinking that tucked behind some casserole dish stored in a closet or some Christmas decoration stored in a drawer, her journal will be hiding, waiting to reveal all the secrets and feelings she was never able to verbalize to us.  There were so many times when she wished she had asked her dad more questions about her mother.  She never did, and when he died all his stories went w/ him.  I fell into the same trap b/c I didn't heed her warning.  I teach my students that 45% of our time is spent listening, yet most of us want to spend 100% of our time talking and that keeps us from listening well.  Take time to listen, it's the cheapest gift you can give.

Wednesday, 25 August 2010 -- Day 248 (261)

I hate not being able to sleep.  I don't know how Ron used to function by only being able to sleep for four hours at a time.  I thought getting out my feelings in this blog would keep me from bottling everything up.  You know, the whole "sleep like the dead."  Those who have a clear conscience have no problem sleeping.  Well, I think this blog has been backfiring on me.  I had an epiphany the other night that this blog make actual be the reason for my sucky sleep patterns. I usually write just before going to bed, right after I churn up all my feelings.  It's no wonder I can't fall asleep.  My head and heart are still running wild.  Yesterday, I decided to test this hypothesis by writing early so I could get to bed earlier.  Last night I slept wonderfully.  So, I'm going to try this again tonight.  Write.  Do something less taxing on my emotions.  Go to bed.