A Sunday Is Good Day For Thinking

Karen brought me the flowers she had purchased for me for Mother's Day.  The student's at the girls high school, where she teaches, were selling them.  All proceeds went to Right to Life.

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I keep think about my blogger friend, Balisha.  Knowing the pain she is going through this weekend.  Well--not REALLY knowing, as I have never lost a child to death.  But, knowing, grief is similar in all cases.  There is the mind numbing feeling--people around you, talking to you, and later--you can't remember a thing that was said.  You get this "fog" that permeates your mind and life for months.  You go through all the motions, but you are going on "rote"--your body feels heavy--like you are almost moving in slow motion.  You get forgetful.  The reason being--your consciousness is filled with thoughts of your loved one who has passed.

You are remembering the memories.  You are going over everything that has happened.  Why?  Could more have been done?  How can everything be fine one day and completely destroyed the next?  Did God do this?  What was the reason?

There are absolutely NO answers.  You just have to live through the fog--the heaviness--the (sometimes) wanting to die so you can be with them again.  One day at a time.  One foot in front of the other until, one day, the fog starts to lift and you begin to see brightness again.

It is by far the hardest thing you will ever go through!!!
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I am also thinking about my life.  I have read your comments--thanks--about patience and frustration, and the weird or nutsy-cuckoo people I live around.  and I realize--I fit right in with them.

I have read blogs where the author is fairly young and they become frustrated with their parents.  Their parents seem to get so easily upset now--with trivial things.  They get in a panic.  They are demanding.  They call on the phone and want help from that child--RIGHT NOW!!  They can't carry on a normal conversation with their parents because their parents seem so distracted and only want to talk about THEIR issues--medical problems, money problems.  Sometimes, their parents will say or do strange and weird things, that the child can make no sense out of.

I want to say to them, "Call me in twenty years and tell me how you are feeling."  Because twenty years from now--their kids are going to be saying the same thing about them.

I am in no way the parent my children grew up with.  I am sure, by now, they have gone through that moment, when in a normal family setting, they look at me and think, "Oh my gosh, Mom is getting old!"  I remember going through that with my Daddy.  The wrinkles are there.  The grey hair is coming in.  The not so vigorous walk.  The slow down in speech, as we try to connect out thoughts to be able to express them.  It is shocking when that moment comes--when your parent has always been strong and vibrant and then--all of a sudden--you realize--they aren't anymore.

It is an age thing.  Usually exacerbated if your parent lives alone.  I have those anxiety attacks.  The fear is very real to me.  The frustration with things breaking--knowing I can't fix them.  Oh--I used to be able to--but now, I can't bend over that far--or I can't lift that heavy thing--or it just seems too much to handle.  You should have seen me struggle to get the bottom storm window off my screen door to try and clean it--took me a long time--it was awkward and heavy and it wouldn't go back in easily.  It had to be done.  I wanted it done NOW!!  If I had called one of my kids for help--they would wonder why I was so frustrated and upset and of course--they don't have time to run over here and help.

If Fred were here, he might not be able to help, but he would be sitting there--giving me encouragement.  Saying, "Take it down a bit farther until you get to the slot where it lifts out."  or "You have to start at the bottom to put it in--then you push it up and lock it in place."

Pearl gets so frustrated when she is talking and all of a sudden, loses her train of thought or can't remember the next word she wants to use.  Dar gets panicky when she is running low on water and there is no one to take her to get anymore.  I get scared when I get heart flutters and wonder--"is this it?  No one will know I'm dead for days!"

We get cranky.  We get crotchety.  We get angry. We get scared.  Some live in constant pain and it reflects on our personality.

Some of the kids say, "Let's go shopping!"  and they take you to the mall and off they go and you are trying to keep up, but your back or hips or legs are killing you and you just can't keep up--you can barely walk fifty feet without stopping to rest.  They don't get it.

Some of the kids say, "You need to get involved!"  In what?

"You ought to do this."  You ought to do that."  Yeah, yeah, yeah--you're just too damn tired.

"You ought to just get in your car and drive over to Lake Michigan and spend the day.  You love being by the water."  Yes--it would be wonderful--something I would have done in my '60's.  But now--the thought comes into my head--"What if I have car trouble.  How would I get help.  It's not like I can walk two miles to the nearest gas station."  "It's over a hundred miles over there.  What if I can't drive that far without getting tired."  "What if I have one of my major dizzy spells."  Thoughts that NEVER would come into their minds-- or yours ten years ago.

Some will say, "We are taking you to the basketball game!"  YAY!  But you have to walk three blocks to the stadium and climb up three sets of steep, tall stairs with no handrail and, yes, it was fun, but it takes you three days to get over the pain of your adventure.  You go because it was a nice thing for them to do for you.

But--one day their spouse will die and they will be left to do it all.  Or they will be divorced and one day the arthritis or some debilitating illness will come and they will hurt all the time.  One day they will be scared, critical, crotchety and angry and alone--then they might say, "Oh--this is how Mom felt."

They'll get it one day, but we won't be around to see it.

One last thought--I saw this on the Internet and typed it up and put it in my funeral box where my daughter's will find it.  I didn't write it, but it pretty much says it all--well, I did write the fourth and third paragraph from the end, but that is only because it pertains to us.

I probably should mail it to them now, LOL.
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"My dear girls, the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through. If when we talk, I repeat the same thing a thousand times, don’t interrupt to say, “You said the same thing a minute ago”... Just listen, please.

Try to remember the times when you were little and I read the same story night after night until you would fall asleep.  

When my house isn’t as clean as you think it should be, just remember your younger  years when you lived in a clean one--your messes that I picked up daily--your laundry always done.  Perhaps my eyes aren’t as good as they once where and I cannot see the dust.  Perhaps I am just too tired to keep the house neat all the time.

When you see how ignorant I am when it comes to new technology, give me the time to learn and don’t look at me that way... remember, honey, I patiently taught you how to do many things like eating appropriately, getting dressed, combing your hair and dealing with life’s issues every day.

If I occasionally lose track of what we’re talking about, or don’t remember a long ago instance you are referring to, just give me the time to remember, and if I can’t, don’t be nervous, impatient or arrogant. 

All our memories are there in my mind, it is just difficult to recall them sometimes.  Just know in your heart that the most important thing for me is to be with you. And when my old, tired legs don’t let me move as quickly as before, give me your hand the same way that I offered mine to you when you first walked.

If I say or do something that doesn't make sense to you--remember, I am alone a lot.  Sometimes I don't talk to another human being for days at a time.  My mind wanders.  It becomes befuddled.  I might have, to me, a profound thought that needs to be expressed.  I will say it. I might do something that seemed right, to me, at the time.  I will do it.  Later, I will realize that what I said or did, makes no sense at all.  I will wonder why I said or did it,  but it is too late to take back.  

When I am scared or fearful or filled with anxiety and you can't see the reason why.  Don't become frustrated with me.  Remember the times you were scared or fearful or filled with anxiety, and from experience I knew and told you, "It's going to be all right."

When those days come, don’t feel sad... just be with me, and understand me, with love and patience, while I get to the end of my life.

I’ll cherish and thank you for the gift of time and joy we shared. With a big smile and the huge love I’ve always had for you, I just want to say, I love you... my darling daughters.”