This Birth That We Call Death

Earlier today I received a call from my late husband's sweet sister, Marsha, to inform me that my beloved Daddy-in-law is rapidly failing, both mentally and physically.  We've known for some time that he was easing away from us with Alzheimer's and now, his body is catching up with his mind. I tell you this, because I have already begun the grieving process.  

When I returned home from my granddaughter, Maddie's birthday party tonight, I had a message on my machine from Marsha's Jon, letting us know that Dad has taken a turn for the worse, that they don't expect him to live much past the weekend, if that long. My heart is so heavy and yet, I am buoyed up when I visualize the joyful reunion with his wife, whom he adores, his son Michael who adores him, and others that have gone before. 

My wise friend, Virgie, once confided in me that she thinks of death with parallels of the birthing process.  Some departures from this frail existence happen slowly and methodically, while others can be so untimely and quick that there is little time to take it all in. Her husband, for instance, passed away suddenly and unexpectedly, in the middle of the night, just as many babies have come into this world.  But I think of my mother's passing; gradual and predictable, not unlike an infant, making that difficult passage through the birth canal, with our knowledge that a grand event is eminent.  Now, I never fail to think about the comparison of childbirth, when faced with the parting of a loved one.

The irony is, today we celebrate several birthdays other than Maddie's.  My brother-in law, John, was born on this day and more recently, my beautiful granddaughter, Amelia Grace. Our friends, the Ashtons, presented us with a brand new baby girl this week.  My husband, Mike died on his daughter Tracie's birthday and I lost a cousin yesterday to cancer. It is no wonder that in preparation for death, our thoughts are appropriately drawn toward the connection with new life.   

Tonight, I savor the cherished memories I have of this extraordinary man that I have loved and admired from the very first introduction.  Dad would be 90 years old in November and I am aware that nobody is getting out of this world alive, but I often find comfort in the following quote I'll have to paraphrase . . .

"Aren't we grateful that God doesn't leave the details up to us?  When, oh when, would we ever be willing to let go of those we love?"  I am hoping I will have time to visit Dad once more, even though he no longer knows me or will even know that anyone is there at all.  This, I do for me.

Sometimes They Call Me Aaron

Now that the dust has settled, I can relate MY first day of school.  Monday, we stood outside the door of the Pre-K class, waiting for the "gate" to open, allowing little ones inside for a brand new world of experiences.  In anticipation, Brennan was balancing on the hand rail while we spoke to a fellow classmate, AJ, who has a hearing loss and was slightly difficult to understand, so I thought he might have trouble with Brennan's name, since it is not common.  I told AJ that my grandson's name was Brennan, or sometimes we call him Bren or even Brenny. Without even looking up, Brennan said, ". . . and sometimes they call me Aaron".  So very true.  AJ's mother looked a tad confused ~ was Aaron a middle name? A nickname? When I explained it is my youngest child's name, she gave me an immediate knowing look.  To be fair, I call my son Aaron, "Brennan" just as often. Seems it happens in most families.  I know my own mother, on a regular basis,  used to go down the list of six children, ignoring gender differences and surrendering to "oh well, whatever your name is!"  My sisters and I were also often called by our aunts' names, according to their birth order and ours. I am hoping it is not necessarily because we have similar characteristics or personalities, but more about how the human mind works ~ or in the case of mothers, how it is OVERworked.

Ella has been ready for Kindergarten for at least a year, so her excitement was palpable. She is the most animated member of Jen's family, and her dancing around with an indelible smile on her face was not surprising.  Anna, who shares her uncle Aaron's motto regarding school ~ "it takes up all your time", was even ready and willing to begin. Typically, she'd much rather be outside looking for critters or riding her bike but she's experienced a major metamorphosis this summer and is now quite the young lady (yet still likes to ride her bike to the ditch to forage for varmints).  The thing I am most grateful for this year is that all three of Jen's kids attend the school where Jen teaches.  I can't help but feel it is a huge blessing, like an emotional umbrella or security blanket for the children to sense, in their current circumstance, that their mother is always nearby. For a short time, Anna attended a school other than the one where her mother was working, and I don't think even Jen liked it.  Next year, Anna will advance to a different campus, but for now, all the planets are aligned.

Perhaps its the new school clothes that make the older girls' attitudes seem agreeable, but for whatever reason, even Ciara and Cheyenne appeared ready for all the new challenges that lay ahead. Ciara's a new cheerleader this year and is already staying late for volleyball.  Chey knows this will be a difficult year with taking dual college courses and continuing to work part time, but is braced and planning to pace herself for the whole of it.  Bright and beautiful people all around me.

Chelle said Graham, Zach and Maddie were all appropriately cheerful about the beginning of the new school year too.  I racked my brain for a memory of a time that any of my children or grandchildren were less than excited about a first day at school, and I can't recall a single tear, unless you count my own personal tears of joy.  At a young age, I found it disheartening when I'd hear parents count down the days until the first day of school, thinking to myself, "if you'd raise your children with love, they would be a joy to you instead of a nuisance". Call it foolishness. Call it being naive . . . heck, call it Karma!  Now I'm one of 'em! Only I've been counting the hours instead of the days!!  I just don't understand it ~ we DID raise ours with love and they ARE a joy to us. I love cheesecake too, but I don't want it 3 times a day, every day without a break!  So all is right with the world.  School is back in session.

It goes back to the adage, "Always leave 'em wanting more".  I can hardly get through a day without the grandkids, but I have been known to say that "sometimes, the best part of the visit is the tail lights of the car!"  I told Jennifer, our resident teacher, that in my humble opinion, year-round school would be better than having to spend the first two months every new year reviewing all that was forgotten during the summer from last year. Think of it!  Families could even camp out when its cooler or take winter vacations to someplace that actually gets snow more frequently than once every decade or two.  The teacher said no.  Asked and answered.

   

We Don't Need No Stinkin' Repairman

I have a five burner gas Jenn Air stove top that I was deep cleaning in honor of my sister Stacey's impending visit.  Having removed the knobs, I was wiping down the surface of the controls when somehow I must have triggered the electric starter, as the right front burner began to "click" like it was trying to turn on. Regardless of what I tried to do, nothing worked and the clicking would not stop. I called the appliance store where it was purchased and spoke to a woman in the service department who quickly informed me that I must have gotten it wet and I'd just have to let it dry out.  Sounded logical, but that clicking was really getting to me so I took a hair dryer to it for longer than it should have needed and no luck. Still clicking.  After 30 minutes, I called her back and told her I did not think that was the problem. She said it might take several hours. Inquiring what time they closed, I began to think I might need to throw in the towel and have a repairman come out and take a look at it before business hours were over.  She had a snide, pompous laugh when she assured me there was no way anyone could come before Wednesday.  This was Monday morning.  I'm committed to be in Houston all day on Wednesdays, so it would have to be at least Thursday. Not so much was I impatient, as I was irritated that she was totally indifferent to my cause, so I confidently announced I'd simply call someone else!  (Here in these parts we refer to that as "cutting off your nose to spite your face".)

While I was pondering what to do next, I made a not-very-hopeful phone call to my brother Dan and asked if he had any suggestions. He instructed me to locate the outlet that the stove top is plugged into (under the countertop, in the cabinet) and unplug it. I did.  Problem solved.

The only inconvenience was that I had to use a match to light a burner.  Big deal. Next day I plugged it in and it started clicking, but by Thursday, it no longer clicked when plugged in!

There are several lessons to be learned from this experience: 

1) What does it say about their appliances that there are so many calls, they can't schedule you for over 48 hours? Are that many of their appliances needing repair?

2) If an appliance is working properly, do not, under any circumstance, deep clean it.

3) If you wait long enough, a broken appliance will repair itself.

A Tale of Two Cities Vacation

"It was the best of times.  It was the worst of times." (from Charles Dicken's " Tale of Two Cities") My sister, Stacey, from Yorba Linda, CA is here for a visit. She tries her best to come three or four times a year and while she is here, it is much like a circus in an elevator. All 6 of us siblings (and spouses and children, etc) and our Dad gather to join in the festivities every day and night. There is little sleeping, but a lot of eating, racquetball, shopping, grooming & pampering, movies, old stories to retell and enough belly laughs to sustain us until the next trip.  In the process, new memories are made to retell another day. It ain't over yet, as Stacey doesn't fly out until Monday early.

After a fun-filled girls' day out today, we had a fish fry at my sister, Dawn's.  The cousins were running and squealing through the house when 3 year Juliett took a hard spill onto the tile floor and split her head open. ( They really know how to shut down a party.)  A scary amount of blood. Emergency Room. A miserable "all nighter" at the hospital, since it is not only summer, but also the start of the weekend, resulting in an increased number of patients. 

I remember a couple years ago when Jon took Brennan to the ER with a gash in his chin from a nasty fall in the bathtub.  After four hours into the late night, they gave up and went home, never having seen a doctor at all.  They cleaned the wound and put a butterfly closure on it. 

Do-it-yourself healthcare.  We're gonna be seeing a lot more of it.

Post Script:  Juliett finally had a half-dozen stitches after waiting from 9:30 pm until about 3:30 am.  She was extremely patient and brave in the ER with no sign of any residual problems. In fact, she was over tonight for a few minutes and enjoyed romping with her cousins again.

A Sign of the Times

Some years ago when my children were of a tender age, one of the house rules was, if they wanted to see a new movie, it had to be previewed by me before they had permission to watch it.  I learned to LOVE that rule because it afforded me with lots of opportunities to catch "Dollar Night" on Tuesdays at the theater alone, while Mike took care of business at home.  It was, of course, a hard job, but something I was willing to bear up under for the sake and safety of my little ones.

Recently, a couple girlfriends and I have been enjoying frequent movie nights in my home. After watching Ryan Gosling in "Lars and the Real Girl" and "The Notebook" for the umpteenth time, I researched additional movies he starred in and found several, but none of them appeared to be the type of movie I would prefer.  I told Jen that I'm tempted to see them anyway but was concerned that if they were a disappointment, it could possibly mar the affection I feel for Lars and Noah  (characters in his movies).  "Don't worry," Jen said to me, "I'll watch them and let you know if they are appropriate for you."  

Ah, the comforts of my newly- acquired role reversal!

Drowning in Tomatoes

What is it about me that makes me forget I am not a 25 year old pioneer woman??

We had the opportunity to order fresh and reasonably priced produce from a local farmer through the church, so I did.  I know my limitations physically so I paced myself, but the more I ordered, the more I decided I'd just share with my family and friends.  I gave away corn on the cob, squash, cucumbers, watermelons, and cantaloupes, but kept all the tomatoes. 

A friend of mine had ordered tomatoes and bell peppers, but when the produce arrived, she realized they were going to be moving and she would be unable to work with it, so I bought her portion.  What was I thinking!?!  I was already swimming in lycopene!

As usual, one of my kids had to bail me out.  Chelle came down and we made 3 different recipes of salsa retrieved from Google and finally determined which was our favorite.  The first day we turned out 36 quarts, not pints, but quarts of yummy salsa.  We scheduled a second canning day before the vegetables went bad and produced yet another 18 quarts for a grand total of 54!! It worked out okay because some time ago, Chelle had expressed a desire to learn how to can something.  Talk about baptism by fire!  See, you have to be so careful about what you ask for.

I am so like my dad in this respect.  He thinks he is still 30 years old, 12 ft tall and bullet-proof! His frustration peaks when he gets into a project that he is unable to complete because it is usually a job for Superman.  Daddy is only 87, but becomes short of breath when he tries to do too much.  So, like me, he calls in reinforcements . . . usually my brother, Dan.  I guess neither of us are ready to throw in the towel on life.  We always imagine we can handle it ourselves. I'm just grateful we still have others around that are there for us when we get in a bind.  "It's not that I'm old, it's just my age."  

suPRIZE, suPRIZE, suPRIZE!

(If the title puts Gomer Pyle in your head, mission accomplished.)  

A week ago last Thursday afternoon (July 2nd), Chelle came down from Pearland to "help" me clean and organize.  (Remember the old adage, "Me and Daddy killed a bear, Daddy shot it"?) That's Chelle doing all the work.  Anyway, in a frenzy, she made the house presentable for guests and just as she sat down for a well-deserved break, there was a knock at the door.  

My Aaron, Lisa and their 22 month old daughter, Amelia (aka Millie) from Utah were on my doorstep.  I had no idea they were coming.  Aaron is really big on surprises.  Chelle and Jen knew about the visit, but no one else.  We were all surprised.  That's the way he likes it.

It's been a whirlwind nine days of plenteous laughter and loving, not to be outdone by eating. We even managed to have some family photos taken by a sweet friend of ours.  Aaron did several much-needed honey-do jobs for me and demonstrated his cooking prowess a couple of times.  Lisa treated us to some beautiful piano music and kept my kitchen clean, in spite of our constant efforts to leave it in a mess.  We were all entertained by Amelia's antics.  Her mother is good to share Millie with us on her blog, but sadly, it is not the same as being able to love on her in person.  What a precious little thing!

When any one of my kids is out of pocket, I go to sleep with a nagging feeling that something is slightly amiss.  I know that all is well enough with them, but somehow, my world seems incomplete.  For nine days, my life was whole again.  I will admit that in an era when most families are scattered in order to go where the work is, I am fortunate to have the majority of my family nearby.

So they left last Saturday (July 11th) and I tried to be brave but alas, I am not very proficient at it.  When I was a child and we left from a visit to my grandmother's house, I remember thinking it was foolish that she would always cry.  After all, we had stayed a whole two weeks, and we'd be coming back again the next summer!  Not only have I become my mother, I've apparently become my grandmother.