Josh has bronchitis.
He was diagnosed yesterday and put on a
myriad of medicines.
Well, only two actually.
He was also told by me he was not allowed to party
all weekend long.
What does that mean?
No late nights. No friends.
He is technically under "House Arrest."
The doctor backed me up and told him to rest and let
his body heal this weekend.
What does that mean?
No late nights. No friends.
AHA! Same as what his mother said!
I'm not sure how thrilled he is about all that...
...but let me tell you something...
I AM THRILLED!!!
Last night was the first night in YEARS I got
to go to sleep before midnight (or later) on a
weekend night.
A girl (or old-woman-mother) needs her beauty
rest.
I was one happy camper...
...That is until Grace woke me up at 1 AM.
But that....
...is another story for another day.
...finding Joy in the Journey, snapshots into our family life~
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
the white angel
Today I met the "White Angel."
Prior to this morning, I was not even aware of his
existence. In those terms anyway.
As you know, in January I moved my workouts from
outdoors (that snow and cold thing) to indoors.
The Salt Lake Lions Club. Work out haven for
all people over 60.
And me.
I have the pleasure and joy of working out for an
hour each morning with Senior Citizens from all over
the east side of the Salt Lake Valley.
They are a consistent bunch if nothing else.
Each morning the same crew of 65 to 85 year old
men and women show up to kick my butt...or as I
like to say "vigorously work out".
But seriously some of them kick my butt.
I don't know any of their names.
I call them "Mr. Walks Really Fast With
Hand Weights Singing Show tunes" Or "He
Always Walks on the Treadmill" or "The
Man Who Runs Faster Than Any Human Alive"
or "Man Who Holds Alzheimer's Wife's Hand
and Tenderly Walks Her Around the Track
Every Day With a Smile". (He's one of my
favorites--you can SEE the love he has
for this woman who no longer knows him.)
Me? I would be "The Lady With No Make Up
and Her Hair in a Pony Tail Every Morning."
I don't know where they live or much about
them, except for snippets exchanged as we
pass each other on the track.
I am always greeted with a cheery "hello"
or "keep up the good work" or "you sure had
a great work out today" or something of the sort.
When one of them doesn't show up for a day or
two, I always worry that they have died. They
are very old after all.
Today after I finished my stint on the elliptical
and moved to my time on the track, one of the more
chatty ladies sidled up to me to talk.
Truth be told I am an "anti-social-worker-outer."
I like to focus on the task at hand and am not
much into chatting and discussing current, or
any other, events. I know lots of people who
love to have an exercise buddy and talk...
I don't.
After a few laps around the track, one of the
regulars dipped off to the side where coats
and water bottles are stored and grabbed
something off the rack. He tapped Ms. Chatty
on the shoulder, handed her something and
motioned for her to give it to me.
Then he proceeded to continue on with his walk.
(He's one of the fastest I might add).
She said to me, "OHHHH he's known as the 'white
angel' around here. Always doing something
nice for everyone." She then handed me something.
It was a brand new lap counter.
You know, one of those thingamajigs that
you press once for every time around the track
to see how far you've gone. How many clicks
you've gone. Add up all the clicks and they
become miles.
I was floored.
ONCE, a few months back he asked me how far
I walked. I said I didn't know, I just shot
for about an hour and always lost track
of my laps once I got going. I keep my
music blasting pretty loud for motivation.
It interferes with number counting in my
head.
It was mentioned, in passing, a long while
back. The exchange forgotten by me,
until now.
He remembered, and I suppose while at the
store happened to throw an extra lap
counter in his cart and bring it for me.
It can't have cost more than a buck or two.
A cheap metal counter to help me keep track
of my distance on the track.
The thing that was priceless was the THOUGHT.
The ONLY thing I know about this man is that
he is in his early 70's, is tall and reed thin.
And he has, well, a shock of thick white hair.
I have seen him pull in the parking lot at the
same time as me, he drives a nice Mercedes.
He is a mostly "anti-social-worker-outer" too.
He comes, does his laps and moves on with his day.
I have no clue what his name is.
Today in the midst of all the "Hello's" and "How
are you's" and "Way too go! Keep up your good
work!" I learned a great lesson.
I think that maybe old people have the secret
to life figured out.
There is no judgement. They are not concerned
with how you look. Not once has anyone
ever made a derogatory comment to me.
The ONLY thing I have received, and from
COMPLETE strangers I might add, is support.
Hardly a day has gone by where SOMEONE isn't
telling me (and everyone else there), "Hey
you're doing a great job!" "Keep up the
good work!" "It's great to see you!" "I'm
really proud of you!"
It is like belonging to a community of people
who only want you to succeed, who want you
to do your best.
YOUR BEST, not anyone else's best.
JUST YOURS.
They ask nothing else of you. They see you
at your worst, sweaty, no make-upy self and
STILL only see the good in you. Still
only want you to be your best self.
Still seemingly "love" you unconditionally.
Still remember it's the little things in life
that count. Still know and remember that
we're ALL trying our hardest and while
my hardest may not be the same as theirs,
they respect me for trying MY hardest.
I love the things they have taught me,
in their own quiet way.
Like thinking of buying a lap counter for
a complete and total stranger.
Just because it will be helpful.
Just because it will make someone else
happy.
Just because.
Today, I am thankful for the "White Angel"
at the Salt Lake Lions Club.
And for all the other "White Angels" out
there in my life, and the lives of others.
They make the world a better place for
the rest of us to live in.
Prior to this morning, I was not even aware of his
existence. In those terms anyway.
As you know, in January I moved my workouts from
outdoors (that snow and cold thing) to indoors.
The Salt Lake Lions Club. Work out haven for
all people over 60.
And me.
I have the pleasure and joy of working out for an
hour each morning with Senior Citizens from all over
the east side of the Salt Lake Valley.
They are a consistent bunch if nothing else.
Each morning the same crew of 65 to 85 year old
men and women show up to kick my butt...or as I
like to say "vigorously work out".
But seriously some of them kick my butt.
I don't know any of their names.
I call them "Mr. Walks Really Fast With
Hand Weights Singing Show tunes" Or "He
Always Walks on the Treadmill" or "The
Man Who Runs Faster Than Any Human Alive"
or "Man Who Holds Alzheimer's Wife's Hand
and Tenderly Walks Her Around the Track
Every Day With a Smile". (He's one of my
favorites--you can SEE the love he has
for this woman who no longer knows him.)
Me? I would be "The Lady With No Make Up
and Her Hair in a Pony Tail Every Morning."
I don't know where they live or much about
them, except for snippets exchanged as we
pass each other on the track.
I am always greeted with a cheery "hello"
or "keep up the good work" or "you sure had
a great work out today" or something of the sort.
When one of them doesn't show up for a day or
two, I always worry that they have died. They
are very old after all.
Today after I finished my stint on the elliptical
and moved to my time on the track, one of the more
chatty ladies sidled up to me to talk.
Truth be told I am an "anti-social-worker-outer."
I like to focus on the task at hand and am not
much into chatting and discussing current, or
any other, events. I know lots of people who
love to have an exercise buddy and talk...
I don't.
After a few laps around the track, one of the
regulars dipped off to the side where coats
and water bottles are stored and grabbed
something off the rack. He tapped Ms. Chatty
on the shoulder, handed her something and
motioned for her to give it to me.
Then he proceeded to continue on with his walk.
(He's one of the fastest I might add).
She said to me, "OHHHH he's known as the 'white
angel' around here. Always doing something
nice for everyone." She then handed me something.
It was a brand new lap counter.
You know, one of those thingamajigs that
you press once for every time around the track
to see how far you've gone. How many clicks
you've gone. Add up all the clicks and they
become miles.
I was floored.
ONCE, a few months back he asked me how far
I walked. I said I didn't know, I just shot
for about an hour and always lost track
of my laps once I got going. I keep my
music blasting pretty loud for motivation.
It interferes with number counting in my
head.
It was mentioned, in passing, a long while
back. The exchange forgotten by me,
until now.
He remembered, and I suppose while at the
store happened to throw an extra lap
counter in his cart and bring it for me.
It can't have cost more than a buck or two.
A cheap metal counter to help me keep track
of my distance on the track.
The thing that was priceless was the THOUGHT.
The ONLY thing I know about this man is that
he is in his early 70's, is tall and reed thin.
And he has, well, a shock of thick white hair.
I have seen him pull in the parking lot at the
same time as me, he drives a nice Mercedes.
He is a mostly "anti-social-worker-outer" too.
He comes, does his laps and moves on with his day.
I have no clue what his name is.
Today in the midst of all the "Hello's" and "How
are you's" and "Way too go! Keep up your good
work!" I learned a great lesson.
I think that maybe old people have the secret
to life figured out.
There is no judgement. They are not concerned
with how you look. Not once has anyone
ever made a derogatory comment to me.
The ONLY thing I have received, and from
COMPLETE strangers I might add, is support.
Hardly a day has gone by where SOMEONE isn't
telling me (and everyone else there), "Hey
you're doing a great job!" "Keep up the
good work!" "It's great to see you!" "I'm
really proud of you!"
It is like belonging to a community of people
who only want you to succeed, who want you
to do your best.
YOUR BEST, not anyone else's best.
JUST YOURS.
They ask nothing else of you. They see you
at your worst, sweaty, no make-upy self and
STILL only see the good in you. Still
only want you to be your best self.
Still seemingly "love" you unconditionally.
Still remember it's the little things in life
that count. Still know and remember that
we're ALL trying our hardest and while
my hardest may not be the same as theirs,
they respect me for trying MY hardest.
I love the things they have taught me,
in their own quiet way.
Like thinking of buying a lap counter for
a complete and total stranger.
Just because it will be helpful.
Just because it will make someone else
happy.
Just because.
Today, I am thankful for the "White Angel"
at the Salt Lake Lions Club.
And for all the other "White Angels" out
there in my life, and the lives of others.
They make the world a better place for
the rest of us to live in.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
updates coming soon! pictures coming soon!
I have been neglecting my blog.
Life has taken over....
(I know Grandma this is your lifeline to my family--
pictures will be added tonight)
News of Note:
Josh made the Olympus Varsity (Club) Volleyball Team.
It is going to be a ROCKING team this year--they talked
some of the Senior Basketball Team Boys into playing.
I cannot WAIT to watch games--they are going to kick
some serious butt!
Kyle (in his spare time) decided to sign on as
a coach this year too. He is having a BLAST
working with his son and the other boys.
Grace and Kyle (and 2 of her BFF's) just returned
from a whirlwind long weekend in NYC. Kyle
had a lot of fun shopping with *3* 14 yr old girls
for 3 days. (ahem). He wins the award for
"best dad".
Josh passed his first ACT test with a score of 29.
Will take one (at least) more to improve on his score.
Senior schedule is signed off and passed in.
My son, the nerd-who is actually NOT a nerd,
will graduate high school with
almost 2 years of college credit (IF he passes all
his AP tests). Major emphasis on Science and Math.
And he is EXCITED for next year??!!??!!
I love that kid.
We have about a foot and a half of snow on our front
walk and by Thursday it will be 60....gotta love
spring in Utah!
Pictures coming soon of all these events!
Hugs and Kisses.
Life has taken over....
(I know Grandma this is your lifeline to my family--
pictures will be added tonight)
News of Note:
Josh made the Olympus Varsity (Club) Volleyball Team.
It is going to be a ROCKING team this year--they talked
some of the Senior Basketball Team Boys into playing.
I cannot WAIT to watch games--they are going to kick
some serious butt!
Kyle (in his spare time) decided to sign on as
a coach this year too. He is having a BLAST
working with his son and the other boys.
Grace and Kyle (and 2 of her BFF's) just returned
from a whirlwind long weekend in NYC. Kyle
had a lot of fun shopping with *3* 14 yr old girls
for 3 days. (ahem). He wins the award for
"best dad".
Josh passed his first ACT test with a score of 29.
Will take one (at least) more to improve on his score.
Senior schedule is signed off and passed in.
My son, the nerd-who is actually NOT a nerd,
will graduate high school with
almost 2 years of college credit (IF he passes all
his AP tests). Major emphasis on Science and Math.
And he is EXCITED for next year??!!??!!
I love that kid.
We have about a foot and a half of snow on our front
walk and by Thursday it will be 60....gotta love
spring in Utah!
Pictures coming soon of all these events!
Hugs and Kisses.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
travelling
We went to visit my father on Sunday.
This time, he didn't know who I was.
His voice is barely audible when he speaks.
And when he does speak, he speaks of seeing
his brothers Harry and George,
and his sister Anne.
They are deceased.
The hospice workers call this "travelling".
It is when the dying "see" those who have passed
on before them. It is a phenomenon that
often occurs. When the dying hover somewhere
between this world, and the next, and greet
those who have traveled on before them.
I find it quite interesting.
My father can no longer stand. He can
sit only by supporting his frail, fragile
and failing body with pillows.
He is a shadow of himself.
A ghost really. A ghost clinging to
this mortal body. Barely.
His voice only a whisper of what it once was.
He fell back to sleep, which he does
almost all day and all night now, after
about a half an hour.
Kyle and I stayed and helped my mother
move, rearrange and take away furniture
from the "living room"--it is now his
"hospital room."
At one point I broke down and wept.
It surprises me the emotional toll
this takes on my very human body.
It exhausts me.
We made funeral plans.
His funeral plans.
When it was time to go, I walked over
to his bed and leaned over to kiss his
forehead.
"Good bye Dad," I said. "Love you."
His eyes fluttered. In one brief moment
of clarity he saw me, his daughter, Dorien.
"Oh Dorien!" he exclaimed. "Good-bye."
I wonder every time, if it will be the last time
I will get to say good-bye.
He is getting ready to travel.
And I guess I am getting ready to let him go.
This time, he didn't know who I was.
His voice is barely audible when he speaks.
And when he does speak, he speaks of seeing
his brothers Harry and George,
and his sister Anne.
They are deceased.
The hospice workers call this "travelling".
It is when the dying "see" those who have passed
on before them. It is a phenomenon that
often occurs. When the dying hover somewhere
between this world, and the next, and greet
those who have traveled on before them.
I find it quite interesting.
My father can no longer stand. He can
sit only by supporting his frail, fragile
and failing body with pillows.
He is a shadow of himself.
A ghost really. A ghost clinging to
this mortal body. Barely.
His voice only a whisper of what it once was.
He fell back to sleep, which he does
almost all day and all night now, after
about a half an hour.
Kyle and I stayed and helped my mother
move, rearrange and take away furniture
from the "living room"--it is now his
"hospital room."
At one point I broke down and wept.
It surprises me the emotional toll
this takes on my very human body.
It exhausts me.
We made funeral plans.
His funeral plans.
When it was time to go, I walked over
to his bed and leaned over to kiss his
forehead.
"Good bye Dad," I said. "Love you."
His eyes fluttered. In one brief moment
of clarity he saw me, his daughter, Dorien.
"Oh Dorien!" he exclaimed. "Good-bye."
I wonder every time, if it will be the last time
I will get to say good-bye.
He is getting ready to travel.
And I guess I am getting ready to let him go.
Friday, February 25, 2011
the word on the street
If you are squeamish about news of death and dying
you may want to forsake my blog for a while.
(Do you like how I managed to squeeze the word "forsake"
into a blog post? One must keep up some appearances
of humor and normalcy during times like these.)
The word on the street has gone from bad to worse
concerning my dad and those knuckles of death that
are knocking on his door. Apparently death is now
trying to karate chop down the door instead of
opening it slowly and cleverly and sneakily.
Which in and of itself is clever and sneaky.
Visiting medical authorities have changed diagnosis
from "years end" to "end of March." This is
how quickly he is declining each and every day.
It always takes me a day or two to digest this news
and then I can function again. Function without a
Kleenex permanently attached to the end of my nose.
Function without wearing a hat and dark glasses.
Ok wait, I wear a hat almost every day--it's
easier than doing my hair. Scratch the hat thing.
Function without being lost in the fog of
sadness that envelopes my mind.
One must function when one has 4 children to care
for. Although we sure have been eating a lot of
waffles for dinner lately. (Thanks Kyle).
In speaking with my mother today, she said she
has been writing things down. I too, must do
the same. Write things down.
I know some people believe that God is
the root cause, the instigator, the orchestrator
of all the events in our lives. I personally
believe differently. I believe that God is there
to help us, to guide us, and to hold our hands
when the going gets tough. He is NOT the cause
of "bad things" that happen, but rather the Father
that is there to help us through this
mortal journey called life when the bad stuff
happens. To me, for me, that is a big difference.
My "soon to be ubber famous" friend Brodi Ashton
(brodiashton.blogspot.com) blogged today about
her father and his fight against cancer. She
blogged that she doesn't believe that "all things
happen for a reason".
Some things just happen. They just happen.
Not because we are bad. Or someone is trying
to teach us a lesson. Or for any reason at all.
They just happen.
I whole heartedly agree with her.
Life happens. And then with God's hand in ours
we can carry on. Or rather with OUR hand in
God's hand, we can carry on.
HOPEFULLY we learn from the things that happen.
HOPEFULLY we grow from our experiences, both
good and bad, in this life.
HOPEFULLY we take something from them and make
ourselves better people.
BUT I do not believe that God is sitting up there
with his magic wand looking over his children
saying "OHHHH!!! She's being extra naughty this
year, let's see what kind of trial I can give
HER to help her grow." Nope. I don't think
it works that way. Does it make me right?
Or wrong? I don't even know really.
I'm not sure I care. Someday I will hopefully
get the answers.
I prefer to think, rather, that God is sitting up
there watching over us. Watching as our choices, and
the choices of others, and well, just life, swirls
all around us--sometimes creating the "perfect
storm".
Then when He sees something bad happen,
He reaches out for us and hopes we will grab
Him back and hang on for dear life.
Sometimes we need to....
...hang on for dear life that is.
He just wants to help us through.
To cry with us.
To buoy us up.
Cuz sometimes, the word on the street is bad.
And we need someone to help us through.
And that someone is Him.
you may want to forsake my blog for a while.
(Do you like how I managed to squeeze the word "forsake"
into a blog post? One must keep up some appearances
of humor and normalcy during times like these.)
The word on the street has gone from bad to worse
concerning my dad and those knuckles of death that
are knocking on his door. Apparently death is now
trying to karate chop down the door instead of
opening it slowly and cleverly and sneakily.
Which in and of itself is clever and sneaky.
Visiting medical authorities have changed diagnosis
from "years end" to "end of March." This is
how quickly he is declining each and every day.
It always takes me a day or two to digest this news
and then I can function again. Function without a
Kleenex permanently attached to the end of my nose.
Function without wearing a hat and dark glasses.
Ok wait, I wear a hat almost every day--it's
easier than doing my hair. Scratch the hat thing.
Function without being lost in the fog of
sadness that envelopes my mind.
One must function when one has 4 children to care
for. Although we sure have been eating a lot of
waffles for dinner lately. (Thanks Kyle).
In speaking with my mother today, she said she
has been writing things down. I too, must do
the same. Write things down.
I know some people believe that God is
the root cause, the instigator, the orchestrator
of all the events in our lives. I personally
believe differently. I believe that God is there
to help us, to guide us, and to hold our hands
when the going gets tough. He is NOT the cause
of "bad things" that happen, but rather the Father
that is there to help us through this
mortal journey called life when the bad stuff
happens. To me, for me, that is a big difference.
My "soon to be ubber famous" friend Brodi Ashton
(brodiashton.blogspot.com) blogged today about
her father and his fight against cancer. She
blogged that she doesn't believe that "all things
happen for a reason".
Some things just happen. They just happen.
Not because we are bad. Or someone is trying
to teach us a lesson. Or for any reason at all.
They just happen.
I whole heartedly agree with her.
Life happens. And then with God's hand in ours
we can carry on. Or rather with OUR hand in
God's hand, we can carry on.
HOPEFULLY we learn from the things that happen.
HOPEFULLY we grow from our experiences, both
good and bad, in this life.
HOPEFULLY we take something from them and make
ourselves better people.
BUT I do not believe that God is sitting up there
with his magic wand looking over his children
saying "OHHHH!!! She's being extra naughty this
year, let's see what kind of trial I can give
HER to help her grow." Nope. I don't think
it works that way. Does it make me right?
Or wrong? I don't even know really.
I'm not sure I care. Someday I will hopefully
get the answers.
I prefer to think, rather, that God is sitting up
there watching over us. Watching as our choices, and
the choices of others, and well, just life, swirls
all around us--sometimes creating the "perfect
storm".
Then when He sees something bad happen,
He reaches out for us and hopes we will grab
Him back and hang on for dear life.
Sometimes we need to....
...hang on for dear life that is.
He just wants to help us through.
To cry with us.
To buoy us up.
Cuz sometimes, the word on the street is bad.
And we need someone to help us through.
And that someone is Him.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Things I Will Miss...
It all started because Josh came
home last week with his Senior
schedule.
His SENIOR schedule people.
My son, he will be a SENIOR in
high school next year.
Gulp. Huge, gigantic gulp.
My friend who has a son that is
a senior THIS YEAR said to me
in church on Sunday, "prepare to
cry the entire year, all year!"
Great. Just what I seem to
excel at these days. I have
crying covered.
As I walked through my house
today, I walked past bits and
pieces of things that are just
white noise in the back round
daily. I don't even notice them,
they are just there, part of my
life, all day everyday.
And I love them. (mostly)
Just like I love the ones
that leave them there.
Here they are, some of the
Things I Will Miss.
All too soon, some of this
figurative "noise" will be
reduced and removed. So today,
while it's here, I am sharing...
Things I Will Miss...when they
are gone.
Because I promise you,
it was only yesterday,
or possibly last week, that
JOSHUA was the one leaving
half built legos on tables and
nee-nees on my bed.
Where did all that time go?
home last week with his Senior
schedule.
His SENIOR schedule people.
My son, he will be a SENIOR in
high school next year.
Gulp. Huge, gigantic gulp.
My friend who has a son that is
a senior THIS YEAR said to me
in church on Sunday, "prepare to
cry the entire year, all year!"
Great. Just what I seem to
excel at these days. I have
crying covered.
As I walked through my house
today, I walked past bits and
pieces of things that are just
white noise in the back round
daily. I don't even notice them,
they are just there, part of my
life, all day everyday.
And I love them. (mostly)
Just like I love the ones
that leave them there.
Here they are, some of the
Things I Will Miss.
Senior Year registration, his schedule is something like my worst nightmare come true.
Filled with AP classes in science and math. It makes me break out into a cold sweat.
It gives me heart palpitations and chest pains. It makes him happy. I swear sometimes
I wonder where this childs brain came from. His mom, who is a lover of
words and English and reading. Him, who is a lover of numbers and formulas and
the mysteries of making things work, and then making them work.
Drawings of skeleton fingers on hands while doing homework.
Love Notes from my baby to me.
"Lost Shoes" under the table...
Doll bedrooms on MY bedroom floor.
ART GALLERIES in THIER bedrooms
Real Friends who contribute to the gallery...and...
Imaginary Friends who make art projects for the Gallery.
Hair Doodles hanging on cupboard doors ...waiting to be put away.
Shoes by the front door. (this is nothing folks--you should see
the "after school" shot when Josh & Co. are here...
6 + pair of size 13 and up shoes scattered everywhere daily.)
Sewing Projects draped on living room furniture.
"Mommy" Purses left on the tables after
Grandma (ME!) babysits their babies (dollies) while they run errands
in their cars (the living room couches).
Below:
Giant knives and belt buckles left over from "RAP GROUP"
photo session and 6 gigantic teenage boys looking for black
clothes and silver jewelry to wear in our closets.
This may be worthy of a future blog post all by itself at
some point in the future!!!
All too soon, some of this
figurative "noise" will be
reduced and removed. So today,
while it's here, I am sharing...
Things I Will Miss...when they
are gone.
Because I promise you,
it was only yesterday,
or possibly last week, that
JOSHUA was the one leaving
half built legos on tables and
nee-nees on my bed.
Where did all that time go?
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
facing the future
I have said many times that I am a "wordy" person.
It is how I live and breath. It is how I express
joy, pain, sadness, and well, life, really.
I say in a 6 page text (who sends 6 page texts? me.)
what others say in complete acronyms and one
incomplete sentence, and well, one text!
My children have complained that oft times my
blog is FAR too wordy and not enough on the picture
side of things.
If that's what they are looking for...well, this is
the wrong blog. I blog real life and sometimes
real life is messy, and sad and ugly.
I have replied...it is MY blog and so I'll do
what I darn well please.
This one, well, it's been a hard one for me to write.
Last week my ailing father went back to visit
his cardiologist. He has been declining in
health dramatically over the past 6 months.
And the picture has been looking
bleak. He has been getting weaker, instead
of stronger. The burden he carries of
physical ailments is so very heavy. He has
aged years, in a matter of months.
He is tired. Very, very tired.
The news he received was not good, although not
unexpected. His heart is beating at 20% of
capacity. Things look bad. Really bad. His Dr.
informed him that he would not last to years
end.
How do you ingest news like that? How do you
move forward every day knowing that you are
taking one step closer to a certain demise.
The end. The finale.
Obviously the Dr. is not "God", in the sense
of being "all knowing" or "all seeing", but he
is making a call based on certain medical
evidence. Putting facts together. Adding
up 2 + 2. The sum of the equation is
not a pretty one. No matter how you look at
it.
How do you find peace with the fact that your
time on this earth is coming to a close? What
do you do with the end of your days?
It led ME to question what I wanted do with the
end of HIS time. What kind of daughter would
I want to be to him as he passes from
this life to the next. What memories of these
numbered days do I want to remain with me
when he is no longer here.
Some say "he's been sick." (who cares? he's
still my dad)
Some say "he's old, he's lived a long life."
(again, i say who cares? he's still my dad)
None of that makes it any easier to KNOW
that he will go. That his time has a limit now.
My relationship with my father has not always been
perfect. Sometimes it has been painful and hard.
Sometimes I have wanted to scream and cry
and yell. And sometimes, I have. But he
is my father and amidst the hard times there
have been many layers of good times mixed
in with everything else.
What I have decided in the hours since swallowing
hard and digesting this news is that NOW,
this time we have left, is about making peace.
For him. For me.
For him, finding peace with, and for,
the life he has lived.
For me, finding peace with, and for, the days
and minutes and hours we have left together.
In the end, that is all we get to take with us
as we move on.
Time, and memories.
The rest of it, ALL the rest of it, stays here.
Behind.
Isn't it amazing when you really
think about it? How we spend our whole lives
trying to accumulate, things, when in the end
we get to bring NONE of those "things" with us.
Certainly the coming of death, the rapping
of its ugly knuckles upon our door, puts all
of that into perspective, doesn't it?
And so I stand here now, facing the future,
watching him face his future.
Each day we will take a step toward the
inevitable. I want to be there with him
as he takes those steps.
Together.
It is how I live and breath. It is how I express
joy, pain, sadness, and well, life, really.
I say in a 6 page text (who sends 6 page texts? me.)
what others say in complete acronyms and one
incomplete sentence, and well, one text!
My children have complained that oft times my
blog is FAR too wordy and not enough on the picture
side of things.
If that's what they are looking for...well, this is
the wrong blog. I blog real life and sometimes
real life is messy, and sad and ugly.
I have replied...it is MY blog and so I'll do
what I darn well please.
This one, well, it's been a hard one for me to write.
*grandma & grandpa ladanye June 2010*
Last week my ailing father went back to visit
his cardiologist. He has been declining in
health dramatically over the past 6 months.
And the picture has been looking
bleak. He has been getting weaker, instead
of stronger. The burden he carries of
physical ailments is so very heavy. He has
aged years, in a matter of months.
He is tired. Very, very tired.
The news he received was not good, although not
unexpected. His heart is beating at 20% of
capacity. Things look bad. Really bad. His Dr.
informed him that he would not last to years
end.
How do you ingest news like that? How do you
move forward every day knowing that you are
taking one step closer to a certain demise.
The end. The finale.
Obviously the Dr. is not "God", in the sense
of being "all knowing" or "all seeing", but he
is making a call based on certain medical
evidence. Putting facts together. Adding
up 2 + 2. The sum of the equation is
not a pretty one. No matter how you look at
it.
How do you find peace with the fact that your
time on this earth is coming to a close? What
do you do with the end of your days?
It led ME to question what I wanted do with the
end of HIS time. What kind of daughter would
I want to be to him as he passes from
this life to the next. What memories of these
numbered days do I want to remain with me
when he is no longer here.
Some say "he's been sick." (who cares? he's
still my dad)
Some say "he's old, he's lived a long life."
(again, i say who cares? he's still my dad)
None of that makes it any easier to KNOW
that he will go. That his time has a limit now.
My relationship with my father has not always been
perfect. Sometimes it has been painful and hard.
Sometimes I have wanted to scream and cry
and yell. And sometimes, I have. But he
is my father and amidst the hard times there
have been many layers of good times mixed
in with everything else.
What I have decided in the hours since swallowing
hard and digesting this news is that NOW,
this time we have left, is about making peace.
For him. For me.
For him, finding peace with, and for,
the life he has lived.
For me, finding peace with, and for, the days
and minutes and hours we have left together.
In the end, that is all we get to take with us
as we move on.
Time, and memories.
The rest of it, ALL the rest of it, stays here.
Behind.
Isn't it amazing when you really
think about it? How we spend our whole lives
trying to accumulate, things, when in the end
we get to bring NONE of those "things" with us.
Certainly the coming of death, the rapping
of its ugly knuckles upon our door, puts all
of that into perspective, doesn't it?
And so I stand here now, facing the future,
watching him face his future.
Each day we will take a step toward the
inevitable. I want to be there with him
as he takes those steps.
Together.
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