Are my ears more appreciative, or is the birdsong especially spectacular this spring?
Did my love increase when my father faltered? I want him to live to 120, and yet I’ve rehearsed my eulogy half as many times. I’ve listened closely and studied friends’ reactions when they lost their parents. I am so afraid; I want to be prepared; I’ll never be prepared.
They moved him from hospital to rehab yesterday, and he had another stroke on his first day, and the latest update is: more scans; a new catheter…
I’m so afraid. I’m 700 miles away and picking out slacks. Helpless, helpless, helpless—we all are.
Oh Michelle. I understand. I'm on the other side trying to hold onto my independence. Hip replacement surgery on Monday so I'm lining all my ducks up. Family is of course concerned. You are paying attention--not a small thing.
I had to walk away from this for awhile. It reminds me that my grandmothers and mother -in -law never had the chance to say good bye to their homes, treasures, quotidian activities, and the things that reminded them of their lives lived in their homes for more than half a century. They went from their homes to hospitals straight to nursing homes. I've been terrified of this for so many years. My neighbor laid beside her bed for two days after a stroke. I was used to her not being seen for a day, and we were busy with jobs, kids, and I didn't notice that evening lights were missing--she went to bed early sometimes; by late the second day I was too late. I was able to get into the house and found her. She was taken away, also to a nursing home; and her son had to clear out the house. Yes, as I write this I'm trembling with terror again. We try to get our ducks in a row, too. (Well, one of us!) But it seems there's not enough time, or gumption, or mental diligence to do it right. I distract myself--should I finish one quilt project before starting another? Would someone finish my grandson's quilt if I can't? Can the kids find all the right papers if they decide to come and help? Will we ever be prepared?? In other parts of the world, the terror is real right now. Bombs, slavery, drownings, fires, rapes, starvation, devastation, and yet my terror is personal, future, or not-so-future. I need to be thankful for that, for whatever that means! The only only thing we can say about life is that 'all shall be well' and have the faith that it will. Otherwise, we drown in despair and fear. So, All shall be well.
Michelle, my heart goes out to you. It's a hard journey. I hope that you and your father will find some comfort very, very soon.
And Trish--you are in my prayers for a clean, easy surgery with a quick, complete recovery. Your name is on the calendar for some special healing time to spend with your energies. Much love to you!
Yes, time for healing energies. Thanks for that Nancy. Either end of this journey is complex. Our kids want us to be safe, we want to keep our independence. It’s a stand off. Love to you, Trish
Are my ears more appreciative, or is the birdsong especially spectacular this spring?
Did my love increase when my father faltered? I want him to live to 120, and yet I’ve rehearsed my eulogy half as many times. I’ve listened closely and studied friends’ reactions when they lost their parents. I am so afraid; I want to be prepared; I’ll never be prepared.
They moved him from hospital to rehab yesterday, and he had another stroke on his first day, and the latest update is: more scans; a new catheter…
I’m so afraid. I’m 700 miles away and picking out slacks. Helpless, helpless, helpless—we all are.
Oh Michelle. I understand. I'm on the other side trying to hold onto my independence. Hip replacement surgery on Monday so I'm lining all my ducks up. Family is of course concerned. You are paying attention--not a small thing.
Wishing you a speedy recovery. Judaism has many prayers to say for the ailing... I'll include you in my prayers. You've got this!
Thanks Michelle
I had to walk away from this for awhile. It reminds me that my grandmothers and mother -in -law never had the chance to say good bye to their homes, treasures, quotidian activities, and the things that reminded them of their lives lived in their homes for more than half a century. They went from their homes to hospitals straight to nursing homes. I've been terrified of this for so many years. My neighbor laid beside her bed for two days after a stroke. I was used to her not being seen for a day, and we were busy with jobs, kids, and I didn't notice that evening lights were missing--she went to bed early sometimes; by late the second day I was too late. I was able to get into the house and found her. She was taken away, also to a nursing home; and her son had to clear out the house. Yes, as I write this I'm trembling with terror again. We try to get our ducks in a row, too. (Well, one of us!) But it seems there's not enough time, or gumption, or mental diligence to do it right. I distract myself--should I finish one quilt project before starting another? Would someone finish my grandson's quilt if I can't? Can the kids find all the right papers if they decide to come and help? Will we ever be prepared?? In other parts of the world, the terror is real right now. Bombs, slavery, drownings, fires, rapes, starvation, devastation, and yet my terror is personal, future, or not-so-future. I need to be thankful for that, for whatever that means! The only only thing we can say about life is that 'all shall be well' and have the faith that it will. Otherwise, we drown in despair and fear. So, All shall be well.
Michelle, my heart goes out to you. It's a hard journey. I hope that you and your father will find some comfort very, very soon.
And Trish--you are in my prayers for a clean, easy surgery with a quick, complete recovery. Your name is on the calendar for some special healing time to spend with your energies. Much love to you!
Yes, time for healing energies. Thanks for that Nancy. Either end of this journey is complex. Our kids want us to be safe, we want to keep our independence. It’s a stand off. Love to you, Trish