Quick update. Aunt V got discharged this evening. I’m home for a moment to pack a bag, then I’m going to go stay at her place. Maybe one night. Maybe more. We’ll see. She, of course, insists she doesn’t need any help. Maybe not, but I need to know she’s able to get around before I’ll be able to leave her alone at her apartment.
Doctors never did figure out what caused the blood pressure to spike above 200. So the underlying problem is not resolved.
Thanks for all your kind thoughts.
From weeks of relative silence I’ve been bounced back into my real world. I drove home Tuesday, and Wednesday evening our 94 year old Aunt called because she didn’t feel well…and her blood pressure was sky high. I told her to get to the hospital, and we’d meet her there. We’ve been at the hospital ever since. She has been through many tests but no one can tell us what is going on and why the blood pressure spiked, nor why she remains too dizzy to walk.
Many decisions need to be made, difficult decisions. Wish us, but mostly her, good luck please.
I thought you’d all like to know how the Valentine’s Day caper turned out. I received a phone call from the 94 year old Aunt V. on Saturday evening. Her voice was much stronger, louder and even higher pitched than normal. She was excited. Why? She said she had received twelve Valentine’s Day cards! She couldn’t remember a Valentine’s Day so wonderful since she was a little girl. She hadn’t sent any out so she didn’t understand why she was getting so many, but “this is a Valentine’s Day I’m never going to forget!” She started rattling off who had sent her what cards, describing them, and the photos of families and children that were included in several. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, but that’s the way it was supposed to be.
Monday was Presidents’ Day, so no mail. I stopped over to visit her on Tuesday and she was all aglow. She had a total of SIXTEEN Valentines by then and she was still excited. She has them in a stack on the table next to the chair she sits in most of the day. She gave them to me to see, one by one, while she told me who it was from and how long it had been since she’d seen some of the people. She pointed out the faces of little children in the photos and told me who was who (even though I knew) and read me bits of the notes people had written inside.
Then she tucked them all back into their pile and placed them gently back on the table. “I like to take them out and just look at them.” she said.
It was a small thing for each of us to do. The result? Priceless.
My husband and I have a 94 year old aunt who is doing really well living alone but who is needing a bit more assistance with things as her eyes begin to fail. This winter is becoming increasingly long as she can no longer see enough to drive and even reading is difficult. So her life revolves around television, phone conversations and visits from family and friend.
Often when I visit I go downstairs with her to get her mail and I see the disappointment when all that emerges from her box are junk mail fliers and the inevitable bills for health insurance and her phone. Though rarely is there anything interesting in her mailbox, she continues to hope and this is where the Valentine Conspiracy comes in. I have contacted almost all her family members, by phone and email, suggesting that we all send her a valentine this year…independently and “spontaneously” spread over the entire week…even going into next week. It doesn’t matter if they arrive late; what matters is that they arrive.
So far the response has been wonderful. Everyone says they will send her one. This could amount to a dozen or more valentines arriving in her mailbox. When she wasn’t really expecting anything. I hope she smiles as she opens them, smiles as she reads them, and smiles later on when she sees them piled beside her chair. Such a simple thing, so easy to generate a smile, so important to take that bit of time to make it happen.
So of course my message is that everyone can take a moment and look around. Is there someone you know and love who might be having a difficult time with the long winter? Who is a bit lonley? Perhaps home bound? Who feels perhaps that there isn’t much to look forward too? Doesn’t matter how old or young they are; if you know someone that could use a lift, send a valentine this week.
It’s only Tuesday, there’s plenty of time.
The story is that my mom was very pregnant with my sister on dad’s birthday and she didn’t feel up to making a cake. So she made him meatloaf and “frosted” it with mashed potatoes. My sister was born the next day. I think my sister was actually Dad’s best birthday present ever. Even if she was one day late.
Happy birthday sweetie! I know you’re having a good day today substituting for a band director in middle school. How cool is that! Didn’t we always want to be the leader of the band? Well, today, on your birthday, you get to actually do it! That has just got to be something that was meant to be. Have fun!
And I want to hear all about it tonight!
Today is Dad’s 81st birthday. I was walking at the mall this morning and a smallish man was walking ahead of me, built quite a bit like Dad, baseball cap on, and if I squinted he could a sort of might have looked like Dad. But not really. Funny how I keep looking for him.
A week or so ago I was corresponding via email with the mother of a young woman named Channing who was killed in a crash a year ago. She was struggling at the one year anniversary with the fact that she felt worse now than she did at the time of the crash. She also said she felt bad that she had been “taking” and not giving anything back, as she knows we have suffered a similar loss. This is what I wrote back to her. I didn’t mean it to run on the ways it does, or get so philosophical, the words just came.
“I don’t think it’s unusual for it to be more difficult for some people after the first year. I think at first you’re running on adrenalin, getting through the first day, the first week, month, first holiday, first birthday without them. And sometimes you think that if you can survive the first year that it will all go away. But it doesn’t go away and that causes you to be even more depressed. Because you start to believe that you’re facing years and years and forever feeling just like you feel right now, and you feel pretty horrible right now. And the pain is so intense that sometimes you can’t breath and you can’t imagine not being able to breath for the rest of your life. And you feel hopeless and you want to crawl away somewhere and cry forever.
But I’m here to tell you that though the pain doesn’t go away entirely, it will eventually recede to a manageable level. I don’t know if the pain actually moves away or if we just learn how to manage it better. Your counseling sessions with your family, if led by someone you connect to, will help you learn, will give you hope, will teach you tools to make some days better. And then a few more days will be better. And someday you will laugh about something and you will be surprised because you don’t remember the last time you laughed. And then you will fee guilty. And than later on, maybe days or months, you will laugh again, maybe even at a memory of something Channing did, and you will realize that it’s alright to laugh. That you’re not dishonoring her by being happy. Her life is not discounted because you have moved beyond the pain. That making yourself stay in the pain is not going to bring her back, and that the way to honor her is to do good works, tell her story,and love her forever.
Someday you will be there, I promise. And then you will be able to take some newly injured family and hold them close to your heart and they will say, “we’re taking but we’re not giving.” And you will know that they are in fact giving, they are giving you the opportunity to do something good with your pain. And then you will have completed the circle. And Channing will smile.”
I tell you this, dear blog readers, not to tell my story all over again, because I’ve done that here many times, but to let you know how much I appreciate your patience when I head down this road again. Because it’s here that I can lay the pain and let some of it go. For whatever reason, if there is something sad hanging onto me and I put it down in writing it loses some of its hold. And though I know that it’s not fair to spread that pain among all of you, especially those I’ve never met and aren’t related to, it does help.
And so I thank you for reading and listening and caring and helping me remember my Dad. On his 81st birthday. Tonight.
I feel an extra emotional connection while I watch news footage of the massive 7.0 earthquake in Haiti. It doesn’t look like many structures survived, and there are likely thousands dead. The extra little tug I feel is caused by the fact that the truck driver that killed Dad in 2004 was from Haiti. He had been in the US only a couple of years. Likely he has family still in Haiti.
I only saw him once; at his only court appearance. For whatever reason, killing someone with a semi is only a misdemeanor. So when we went into a Georgia court to find out how he was going to plead we were dismayed to find ourselves in a courtroom filled with people there for nonpayment of child support, under age drinking and one guy who had burned tires in his yard without a permit. Then there was us. We were the only people there dressed in suits, other than one man and his attorney. We knew instantly that the well dressed man nervously sitting with an obvious attorney was “our” driver. Turns out he had been advised to plead “no contest” which doesn’t admit guilt but also meant he didn’t have to go to trial. I think his attorney had worked out a deal with the Prosecutor that if he plead no contest he’d get off with probation. They didn’t count on our family showing up from all over the country and providing the judge with heartfelt impact statements.
We had a wonderful judge that allowed us to make our impassioned statement and who took the time to silently read statements we had sent to the Prosecutor previously. I remember being in that courtroom, my brother standing beside our driver reading the family’s statement of grief and loss. I remember the driver rocking back and forth on his toes not looking at us. I remember the noisy courtroom hushing as people realized what we were talking about. I remember the stifled sound of sobs from some women, people we didn’t know, when my brother said that my sister couldn’t listen to Christmas music without crying anymore. I remember a court officer, guarding the back door, wiping his eyes.
We wanted some jail time, to make the point that killing someone wasn’t just the cost of doing business, and the judge gave the driver the most she could, 30 days. We were grateful. The driver’s attorney protested loudly, saying that people fell asleep driving all the time. The judge responded with a quote from our impact statement; “We expect more from professional drivers.” The driver was escorted out and it was done.
The judge asked for a recess, and we all started to move out of the room. Along the way people we didn’t know and would never meet again stood up, offered their hands and condolences. It took some time to get out of the room. Out in the hall I felt a bit of a letdown as I moved toward the exit. Then I realized none of my family was with me, and I turned back to find them. They were standing in a clump in the middle of the hall…with the judge, still in her robes. She had come out to tell us she was sorry. She was sorry about our loss, and she was sorry she couldn’t have done more. She didn’t understand, you see, that we were thrilled with her ruling. We had been warned that he would likely get off with probation and that we would probably be disappointed in the process. Instead she did just as we asked, and we thanked her for that. She had tears in her eyes. So did we.
The driver risked being deported back to Haiti by pleading no contest to a misdemeanor. I have no idea if he ended up being sent back but I hope not. It has always been my hope that he was able to stay and raise his two children here, that he turned out to be as fine a dad as ours was, that he used the lessons he learned from this experience to raise wonderful, contributing children. That in his own way he makes the world a better place just like Dad made the world a better place.
So as I watch the footage of Haiti I hope that he and his family are not there. I hope they are safe in Florida and that he has found peace. But I know that very likely someone he loves has died a horrible violent death and that even if he is not there himself he now knows the intesne grief that sudden death brings to survivors. I hope he can cope, I hope he has the support we had. And still have.
I wish him and his family well.
We packed up Christmas in our handy dandy new red and green tubs. No more digging through dusty boxes in the basement looking for stuff. All the tubs are labeled. I don’t believe I’ve ever been this organized!
But with the last tub put away I felt a slight twinge. A bit of sadness that happens every time I take Christmas down. I already miss the lights and festivities, the cards from family and friends, the visits, the music. I know, I know. It’s only been a couple weeks. But still.
Here are some last glimpses of Christmas past:
Pretty lights…
multi generational guests…
brilliant flowers…
and the fixings for fattening food!
Sigh. Just going to have to wait till next year I guess.
It was five years ago today that Dad was killed. It seems like yesterday, and a hundred forevers all at the same time. Much was lost and much has been learned. Where once I cried in mourning, now I cry angry tears, and I’m determined that we’ll win our fight for safety. That’s progress I suppose-from mourning to anger. Still, I wish I could have remained unwittingly ignorant.
I wish that he was still here.
I know for most of you Christmas is right around the corner. But for us Christmas was last night when we entertained my husband’s family here at the house. We planned for days the seating and menu, worried about the weather and the guest list. I cooked for a couple of days before and finally the day arrived. Husband and I moved worriedly among the rented tables, adjusting table cloths, finding the odd spiderweb up along the ceiling, checking the butter dishes, napkins and plate numbers repeatedly. So much last minute stuff and I knew the family would arrive early and set me all off kilter.
Which of course they did. The invites said 4:00 p.m., dinner at 5:00. Most everyone had arrived by 3:30, and they arrived hungry. Thank goodness I had made one extra h’orderve dish’! So they munched on ham roll-ups (including some with dill pickle inside, based on the grocery store cashier’s recommendation.) and cheese and peppers dip and the last minute artichoke heart, spinach and cream cheese dip along with crackers, pita chips and other munchies. The teenagers made short work of all of that and then everyone was waiting for us to finish with the roast beef and ham. And of course the beef wasn’t cooperating and wouldn’t come up to temperature even when we cranked up the oven in a panic at the end.
Finally at 5:20, which wasn’t all that late considering the original plan, we sat down to eat. I was so frazzled by then I don’t really remember things, but I am pretty sure all the food was wonderful because when everyone left last night there were hardly any leftovers! I guess I should measure the success of a dinner party by the amount of food I have to put away later..the less the better…right?
Katie stayed in the bedroom, occasionally barking and even howling, but mostly she stayed quiet and probably slept. I checked on her a couple of times and she was anxious to see what all the commotion was out in the living room, but we had too many little kids running around and screaming in play to let her have free reign. She’s not used to little kids and we didn’t want to risk having a crisis, so she waited it out until the little ones left. Then she came out and entrained the adults with her obedience and rollover tricks. She even played fetch with our 94 year old aunt! They thought she was adorable. And of course she is.
So our Christmas is pretty well finished, at least the large part of it. Christmas Day my aunt will come up from Ann Arbor for dinner, but it will be a quiet, small affair. I guess I should figure out what that menu will be but in reality I’m not going to get excited about it till at least Tuesday! Today is a day to sit with feet up and eat the few leftovers we have.
And maybe take Katie to the park.
Change Is Hard 