So Far Away

 

So far away

Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore?

It would be so fine to see your face at my door

Doesn't help to know

You're just time away

~ Carol King~

     I miss my children.  Plain and simple.  They each live long distances from their childhood home and though in years past I had adjusted to them not being within range of a family dinner or a day hike anywhere, these past few years have brought it forward how very much I miss them.  

     The Pandemic ceased to allow us to be together for what felt like eternity.  The physical presence and hug impossible.  What helped was the connection of a phone call followed by texting and or some version of social media that made it just as bearable as it could.  But the longing to be together was painful.  Sleepless nights of fear followed by wondering how and when our lives with other humans would begin.  Then the creation of the vaccine brought euphoric hope to most all of us.  We waited our turn sometimes anxiously and sometimes with trepidation.  My mind felt optimistic that the life I had would return to normal.  That traveling would begin again and most of all that being with loved ones in person, inside, with hugs would restore what all humans need and want....physical contact.  

     It has been 2 years and that hope of gathering has begun with its stops and starts.  We haven't resumed life truly as it was but for the most part we did all get together this past July.  Far too short a time but I took what time our children could give and appreciate each moment and hug that was shared.   We all shared some time this past Christmas but the holidays always feel rushed and scattered.  Time shared is fleeting and once over I realize how much more I want.  Their driving away to an airport to fly home or their long car journey back home leaves the house in a hushed silence that the only way I can cope is to start loads of laundry to fill the empty silence.   I slowly digest the days together as I lay in bed weary to sleep but that ability to fall asleep plays fickle.  

     So why am I feeling sad?   Why am I unable to accept that they live far from us and move on?  For some parents they seem to have constant busyness to occupy their empty nest.  As though they have been waiting for the empty nest.  Me?  I loved the full nest. 

Long ago, I reached for you and there you stood

Holding you again could only do me good

How I wish I could

But you're so far away

     Family has and always shall be the most important part of my living and breathing.  Thus adapting to not having them around puts me in a quandary.   Obviously having friends would make a difference in filling the space.  And there I have the next roadblock.  Dearest friend does not live near me.  I have poorly cultivated strong friendships nearby.  I realize I have always been a quiet one.  I'm not terribly outgoing and I'm an introvert.  I don't belong to any clubs (except my gym), I don't attend church, and with the years flying by I can count on one hand the friends I can say are true friends and are not family.  I have some endeavoring ahead of me.  

     I'm not sure I'll ever fully except my family not near me.  I treasured the times I had with family dinners, parties, and holidays with my parents and my in-laws.   The casual cup of tea with my mother-in-law where chatting came so easily and warmly.  Old neighborhoods with women of common age and children where we could relax and watch our kids play and for us to share mothering.  Those times nurtured me.  The age beyond motherhood years is a time I have found to be lonely and of less need.  I'm reflecting of articles I've read of the elder adult in present years, of not having purpose or being needed which equates to depression.   I have thought much about how our elders are cared for.  With the passing of our parents whom each had very different scenarios but thinking those years the need for assisted care or nursing homes seemed normal and expected at some point and time.  My heart tells me other.   

     My grandmother developed Alzheimer's when I was 18 and was placed in a Nursing Home.  It seemed a common act to medicate (drug) a wandering elder to keep them in place.  My Nan did try to escape once and a part of me applauds her act of defiance.  Thereafter she was never fully awake but in a state of sleep without her being able to do much of anything independently.   I would never wish this on anyone.  That was her life for the next 12 years and I mourn the loss of asking her about her life when I would have appreciated her stories.  

     Visiting her I met a few elderly ladies who enjoyed seeing my children when we came to visit Nan or as I called her to my children "Nana who is sleeping" because they never, ever saw her out of bed or talking.  What a loss!   But those little ladies who were in their rooms or sitting in the hall in a wheelchair lit up with loving smiles and could hardly wait to have me come close to see the children.  What a lonely place without the young to brighten ones spirits with hugs and laughter.  

     I understand these many years after my mom's passing why she never wanted to be in a nursing home.  Having to watch her mom those many years fade away would be heartbreaking.   Making the choice due to her safety, which at the time seemed the only option, could not have been easy to make.   Thus when my own mother developing what looked like FTD but in the end was Alzheimer's, it was made clear that she would stay in her home.  In my blog A Walk into Oblivion ~ A Daughter's Story (https://awalkintooblivionadaughtersstory.blogspot.com/)  I explain of the complicated time of her incompetence.  She died in her bed in her room as she wished.  With her personal world in place whether she knew it or not.  

     My dream would be to be near my children to stop by for a cup of tea at their home or ours.  To do the Sunday dinners my sweet mother-in-law did for the family to gather at the dining table.  Looking back those dinners brought us to her home so she could hug, snuggle with the grandchildren and see her own grown children mixing together.  I can almost taste her rotisserie chicken and for dessert her apple pie.  I would love to be able to do that!  I dream of going out to lunch together or plan a picnic on the weekend to lay under a tree and just let the flow of togetherness wash over me.  I dream of a grandchildren I could see so often that I would know exactly their favorite food, song and story because I would be a part of it.  That sleepovers would be easy, trips to the park would be easy, spontaneous.  I'm reaching but I can feel that way.  

    I will be grateful for all the time I share with my children and grandchildren even with them far away.  I will try to share about me in the ways I can and what they wish to knew.  We will try to visit them without overstaying that time together and fondly look forward to the together times we plan in the future.  I'll try to cultivate friendships near me.   

     

Quickening

      A new life is blossoming.  Our middle daughter is carrying our first grandchild!  Could my heart be more full?  

     Here I sit, creating a beginning of writing once more.  This step into my thoughts that I let go, gave up, felt I could not conceive of, here I sit.  Here I sit with fingers and mind letting forth my awakened thoughts....

     Quickening

Quicken:  transitive verb                                                                                                                                     1  a:  to make alive                                                                                                                                             2  b:  to cause to be enlivened  

      Perhaps I needed a muse to get my first nudge.  The new year.  Letting go of thoughts that were negative of what I could create.  Trust.  If I gave encouragement to others to be creative why did I doubt myself?  My first thoughts of doubt with writing were the passing of the elders in our families.  By 2020 each year from 2014 an elder has passed.  A generation of loved ones to never hear, never ask those questions that spring forth in my mind, never feel their loving arms and sweet kisses. I found myself in a darkness as though a candle had blown out and my eyes not yet adjusted.   I was not in fear, but in preparation of a new direction in my life.  

     It took the time it needed.  

     Quickening

         Quicken: intransitive verb                                                                                                                                   1 a: to come to life                                                                                                                                                b: to reach the stage of gestation at which fetal motion is felt                                                                          c: to shine more brightly

      

     A week ago my hands lay upon Erin's growing belly in hopes of feeling the littlest kick baby might indulge us with.  It had not been so long ago when she felt the first quickening.  We waited in silent pause.   A holy moment for me.  This woman my hands lay upon once was inside the cradle of my womb and now she is before with her child to be growing each passing day.   

                                                                   * * * * * *

     The first flutters of life with our first born felt like butterfly wings inside my womb.  Slightly ticklish sensations I blissfully pondered upon.  I wanted to share those flutters and instinctively I placed Tim's hand to my belly to feel our child move.  I thought if I felt it he would too.  Instead those early flutters were for me only.  

                                                                    * * * * * *

     Then I felt the smallest of movement against my hand.  Fleeting.  Erin and I waited with smiles upon our faces.  I wonder at who this little one shall look like.  I wonder what eye color and hair color they shall have.  I wonder at the first cry that shall come after birth and how my daughter will be immediately overcome with joy to hold her child and look upon him or her with instinctive love.   

     One more nudge for me to feel....my grandchild....hello little one....I love you.

                                                                   * * * * * * 

     New beginnings may happen at any time.  Patience and openness.   Awareness of the subtle nudge to let go of fear or the obstacles that may be thrown my way.   I'm allowing myself the time to grow and let go and have the pleasure of what comes as my fingers click upon the keyboard.  

     

Popcorn and Ice Cream

     Summer thoughts......

     It has been hot and with the heat my thoughts swept up a memory of my parents second home in Diablo.  A whim of a purchase but for those brief years they owned it, which was mere miles from our home, we shared quite frankly, the best of times together.

    My mom and Papa "let their hair down", so to speak.   They dressed casually, which for my mom was quite a feat!  Even her casual slacks and "t-shirts" were designer but there was less jewelry and though she didn't wear sandals she wore her Daniel Green slippers, gold or silver, without hose.  Papa somehow managed to have old worn pants.  Who knows how he was able to hold onto them without my mom throwing them in the trash.  Add a polo shirt, comfy slip on shoes and he puttered around the house tending the yard and pool.

    Yes they had a home with a pool and he habitually would fuss with the equipment or cleaning the pool of leaves.  Best yet was blowing up pool floats for the girls to play upon.  Of course the girls were excited, giggly, squabbling, loud, generally being kids at a pool, but this wasn't any old pool, it was their Nana and Papa's and nothing was better!  There was a float of a dolphin, a whale, a giraffe, a bear, rings big and small and the brightest colors of these toys she could find.  There were diving rings, diving sticks, and classic diving for coins as well as games of Marco Polo.  The pool wasn't huge by any means yet somehow toys, kids and parents fit just fine.

    My mom even donned a swimsuit from time to time which was a rare event.  No splashing as she waded in and waded out then off to a chair in the shade to watch over her family.  Papa would float lazily on his back from end to end of the pool, his belly floating above the pool level.

    When children swim and play they get hungry and Nana always had snacks.  But what stands out in my memory was the Jiffy Pop Popcorn she would faithfully bring out.  Not done in the microwave but the classic one in the aluminum pan that you would shake constantly across the burner of the stove and watch it balloon out till the popping stopped.

     That simple snack brought back memories of my own childhood!  We would all dig in like hungry vultures to the last kernels.  I'm not sure if popcorn is a typical pool snack but it was what we had along with Pepsi Cola, Root Beer or 7 Up to wash down the salty flavor.

     Papa bought an ice cream maker one year for a summer party they had.  I went out back to help him and learned a bit about making home made ice cream.  It was electric that you added the ice and salt while it churned and churned.  I've never had better ice cream than fresh made that day.  He and I brought the bucket into the kitchen once it was thick and creamy where my mom would busily scoop out the ice cream into smaller containers for the dessert later.  Papa and I  proceeded to scrap off the soft, creamy ice cream from the plastic blade with our fingers over the kitchen sink, making sure nothing was left and wanting more.
   
   

Birthday

Today is my birthday.

Another year has passed, another year of learning, another year of heartbreak, another year of joy, another 57 years in my life path.

Another year.....

I may not have the body of youth but this body is going pretty darn well.  Of course I do keep up on the maintenance but mostly I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, hopefully with a hop and skip thrown in for a smile and a laugh.

Do I feel older?  What does that mean?  Is it that I compare youth and aging?  No.  Let's face it, as the multitude of years fly by our bodies don't feel the lightness of childhood.  Then again children don't have the insight of wisdom and patience that comes with the passage of time.  I'm still working on both of those but feel them setting a natural course of living in my days.

Do I feel older?  I didn't answer that.   Hhhhmmm.   Shedding 25 pounds did not make me feel the lightness of youth but my feet are happier and smoother.  I guess weight causes a lot of stress on the soles of your feet.  I still can't jump as high as Tim but then maybe it's because he is over 6 feet and I'm just 5' 3".  I do get aches and pains from time to time and don't know how or why it happens.  A couple of days  ago I did something and my back decided to spasm and tighten up.  That makes me hurt but not feel old.  It also makes me appreciate life more when I don't have a backache.  But I know it will get better with time and perhaps a trip to the chiropractor.

All my limbs move quite well and I have the added bonus of a titanium plate and screws in the right wrist where I broke it years back.  That dang neck problem that lasted three long years has not caused me a bit of a problem after I decided that enough was enough.  I was tired of driving and paying $70 bucks a visit, and feeling I couldn't do anything without my neck going out.  I joined Kokofit (I know I just gave them free advertising) which put me on the road to wellness with cardio and strength training.  I changed my eating habits and gave up on some truly beloved foods which apparently loved me the wrong way that I didn't appreciate.

But do I feel older?  I feel the passing of time in the passing on of family members who had aged.  I never thought of them as old, maybe older, but not old.  Yet knowing that we can't live forever somehow helped me understand their passing and with that the warm memories of the times spent with them.  I miss them.  I can hear their voices as clear as a bell when I think of them.  I remember their stories and their laughter.

I regard the fact that now I am one of the elders since all my parents are gone.  Tim has his mom as well as an Aunt and Uncle in their golden years.  But for me their are no Grandparents alive and no parents.  For that I feel at odds.  I took for granted that passage of time where we all were well and going about life with gusto.  Gatherings, travel, jobs, pleasure were very much a part of those family members and then like a candle snuffed out, they are gone.  Yet even while they were living, their parents were passing or had passed, and I am sure these very thoughts traveled in their minds from time to time.

Youth has the gift of no worries of living.  They live for today with nary a thought of aging.  And they shouldn't.  So why should I?  And maybe when I do, I'm just thinking too much.  Tim does remind me that I do overthink and that never works out.  So true.  Then again I've accepted my overthinking as the way I work out my brain because if I didn't I might need to be in therapy to figure out why I overthink my life.  Crazy right?  So overthinking allows me to chew and spit out minutia that clogs up the joy in my everyday life.  Uh-huh.

Life has led me on some profound journeys.  Some planned and some unplanned.  The best journeys are surrounded by my Love as he has been with me so many incredible years.  From the teens, to early wedded years when I was a horrible cook, through parenting (and we did parent with kids in the house for over 33 years!), through awful manipulative years with my mom, and in the patient loving times of grief.  We've traveled near and far and many more journeys are in our bucket list.  I've been blessed with this man, my soul-mate.  My children, each as unique, loving, inquisitive, creative, and full of living that sprinkles on me like a fine shower as I continue to grow and continue to learn life's gifts on earth.

Living is about saying "yes".  It's not a time to hesitate.  Getting older is just two words.  What we do will say more than what we won't do.

I don't feel older.

It's my Birthday.  57 years ago my mom, age 25, gave birth to me in Roswell, New Mexico where we lived because my father was stationed at Walker Air Force Base.  Thank you Mom and Dad for bringing me into this amazing world.  Thank you for loving me as well as you could.  If you both could only see and be here with open hearts and arms how much life and love I have, with no regrets, no stone to be left unturned.  That what truly matters in life is to be open and honest to those closest to you and to love with all your heart, to tell those who matter how much they mean to you as often as you can.  To hold and hug tight and mean it.

Tender Heart

Definition:  Heart

1) A hollow muscular organ that pumps the blood through the circulatory system by rhythmic contraction and dilation.  

2)  The center of the total personality, especially with reference to intuition, feeling or emotion. 

3) The center of emotion, especially as contrasted to the head as the center of the intellect.  

4)  Capacity for sympathy or generosity; compassion, Love, affection


Grief's veil is falling over me once again.  I remember this feeling as it visited me not too long ago, not long enough to vanish or to forget as I would wish.  I feel it falling like the lightest of snow flakes on a darkened day, up to my ankles, up to my shins, up to my knees....I want to walk away but I can't.  I stand in the darkened daylight and look up as the flakes keep falling, softly and silently.

My father by marriage passed away just after Christmas.  He fell in November, broke the femur bone and required surgery.  I knew that at his age, 91, this was not good.  He was a tough old bird having already in his golden years had knee replacement surgery, and two heart valve replacements.  This fall was the undoing.  Rehab care seemed like he might get better but the decline came sudden and quick.

Grieving hurts.  My whole body hurts.  My heart hurts, more so for his grown children, his wife and my sister by marriage's children who spent so much time with their grandparents when they were young while their mom worked.  It must have felt like it was their second home.

Grief has no guidebook to help your journey along.  It takes you to places unexpected emotionally where as a comparison to survival you grasp your way out or where you think out is.  Grief can be selfish without intending to be.  Words said burn both to the one who strikes out and to the one the words are given.  Lack of words may do the same.  Some of us walk along without much dwelling of sad lingering thoughts and some of us slog through with uncertainty or questioning.  There is no right or wrong really as long as there is love.

It's the hurting that takes too much time, and I am still wondering where one grieving life became another grieving life as with regards to my mom and now my father by marriage.  My mother by marriage will not be going back home as she has been in assisted care for several years.  The home that was built by him and my husband and brother by marriage, shall be sold.   Saying goodbye to a home that many happy memories as well as sad memories happened in is a death in it's own way.  I know this all to well when the emptying of my parents home was done and that was a year ago.  A mere year ago.  A blip in a lifetime but a mark on my journey in life forever tattooed in remembrance on my heart.

While we heal from the loss of parents the rippling effect transpires to every member of the family. How was our individual relationship with our parents, our brother(s), our sister(s) and so forth?  This fully envelops our healing and grieving.  When my mom passed away and when my brother's family came for the memorial, we had time to be together, to share old times, and to walk through closets, drawers, and rooms.  Each of us felt awkward going through the personal spaces we had never gone.  Doing so was a bonding experience for me.  I hope it was for the rest of the family.  It certainly made it easier to decide what we each would bring back to our homes.

*Photography by Megan

It is never easy to say goodbye.  I know it gets better but really all we do is put our mother and father in a place we can reach out to from time to time, and hopefully the ache goes.  I don't really know if it does.  I'm still on that journey.  Losing my father by marriage, observing and being present for my Love, wondering how the rest of the family was doing, understanding and excepting that peace came for this ailing frail man, moving forward, is a daily wake up call of living.  How do I wish to live my days?

*Photography by Megan

What I do know is the bond between my Love and I is strong.  With each other we can journey through this unknown place.

My deepest wish is that my Love's family's journey stay strong, stay loving and forgiving, deepen, and to be patient with each other.  To be understanding of each ones grief, just as every snow flake that falls is unique and different.

Our hearts are tender...

Seeds of Uncertainty

un·cer·tain·ty

Uncertainty: The lack of certainty. A state of having limited knowledge where it is impossible to exactly describe the existing state, a future outcome, or more than one possible outcome.


I could say that all is well, that I'm brimming over with happy thoughts while preparing for the holidays.  I could say that but in honesty I would be fibbing.  For any of us who has faced loss of family, friends and pets, I won't even say of recent days, as any one of us can draw in a sharp breath when remembering that loved one regardless of the passage of time. 

Seems that a trigger started up for me.  Father-by-marriage broke his hip in November and while his surgery mended his hip it has worsened his mental capabilities which was bordering dementia.  Now he is considerably frailer physically and mentally.  Listening to my Love and his siblings having to make decisions of what to do brought up the anguish of the years my mom became unable to care for herself.  That ugly fear of not wanting to watch a parent fade who it seems just yesterday was out having a life of independence.  The letting go, of knowing that you can't stop time, you can't go in reverse, you can only be there fully, and do the best you can for them.  Some days will seem like you didn't help at all and other days you will feel like perhaps it is enough.  

My middle daughter's beloved kitty has entered into his next phase, dying.  He became ill but is not responding to new medication and all the loving attention given him.   He has always been the fun kitty.  Unusually looking (he is a Devon Rex), very playful, annoying, inquisitive, smart, and a kitty who stole our hearts from the first time we saw him.  Watching my daughter tend to him is just as heartbreaking as watching him fade.  She sleeps next to him at night, helping him when he tries to use the litter box, giving him fluids needed subcutaneously, dispensing his medications.  She carries him in a kitty bed out to be with us all in the kitchen.  Last night she was knitting, the kitty bed in her lap, Agador bundled up with a ball of yarn next to him.  Such a sight.  Him not attacking the yarn but instead watching her and dozing every so often.  Most unkitty like.  For those of us with pets, we can well remember as an adult getting our first pet.  We didn't have to ask our parents permission and the joy of raising the little bundle of energy taught us a lot about life, including the aging and then the passing to death that happens.  

I know that this is my personal discombobulation.  Most of the time I can talk and allow myself the extra TLC to move forward.  

It's hard to feel joy when the heart is heavy.  Some people seem to be able to do this with ease but there are those like me who under the smile feel blue.  

                                                  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Agador passed away last night.....tears fell as we bid him goodbye.  Peace is with him.....

Mass Transit ~ Life as one travels

10:30 PM
 
Our flight has landed and we are heading home.  Rather than pay long term parking at the airport we opt to take mass transit to and from.  Gliding down the escalator with suitcases in tow, we see the Bart train at the station.  We don't know if this is the train we should get on and we hope it stays till we can stand on firm ground.  I see a flash of a woman with a rolling carry-on bag boarding, then I see the door close, her arm and bag outside the door.  For the brief moment my mind assumes the door should open, that it would sense an obstruction, but no the arm and bag are caught.  Then her arm disappears and all that is there is the bag.  Magically the door opens and she is able to pull the bag in and we have time to find out where this train will go.

I'm drowsy with the subtle movement on the train, strange however, since it is a noisy ride with screeches, squeaking and other sounds that leave you to wonder if it is normal for the train to sound like this.  I hear a male voice near me and glance up.  There is a lady who has been sitting next to us since we got on being very calm while a man hovers over her talking.  They weren't together as he has come on after our third stop.  She is attractive with dark complexion and long, straight, dark hair, mid to late 30's, with her tablet in her lap and a large tote bag on the floor.  The man is wearing cream colored slacks, a white lizard skin belt, white shoes and a pumpkin colored turtleneck shirt.  He is maybe in his early 40's and African American with a neatly trimmed mustache.  He is speaking softly with a monotone voice and it is slightly hard for me to understand him with the noise of the train.  What I do hear is his flattery towards the woman.  "You are very beautiful", "You are lovely", "I haven't seen a woman like you" and so forth.  For every flattery sentence she calmly says "Thank you" just as monotone as his voice.  I'm not sure what to think.  Is she being harassed?  She seems quite calm through all the interaction.  "I would like you to go out with me" he says.  I don't hear her say anything.  "Sometime then we should go out".  Still nothing.  He walks away.  She sits as she has without response to my eye contact.  I close my eyes and drowse off once again.

As we get closer to the city center of San Francisco more people get on.  Young people in their late teens to twenties mostly.  A group are sitting and standing nearer the other exit, laughing and talking.  Two African American girls pass through our car chatting up a storm and checking out who is in our car before moving to the next car.  Both wear khaki colored pants with two orange, stiff, narrow ribbons hanging out their back right pockets.  One has the most lovely ringlets of strawberry blonde dyed hair that goes down the middle of her back.  Within five minutes they pass through again.  I wonder what the ribbons are from.

A young woman four rows back wearing earphones plays music so loud it is as though she has no earphones on.  She will regret this when she is old and can't hear anymore.

We're almost to our stop and I text our house-sitter who will come and take us home.  I look up and see a young muslim woman wearing a hijab.  She sits down next to another young woman with long light brown hair.  They look very similar in age yet such contrast.  The light brown haired women is relaxed while the young women in the hijab is stressed.  As she sits down she clearly has asked to borrow the other woman's cell phone.  I see that she has come with a backpack that is full, heaping even, with a folded up blanket at the top.  She also has a small rolling suitcase.  She is talking on the cell phone and her face seems so pained in expression.  She looks near tears and it breaks my heart to see this in such a public place with no one with her.  The light brown haired women sits quietly and I wonder her thoughts.  The young woman with hijab passes the phone back and her face reads such turmoil.  You can see her mind is overwhelmed.  Our stop comes and we depart along with the light brown haired women.  I wonder where the young woman with the hijab is going.  I hope all will be well.