Mourning a death is kind of selfish in some respects, but celebrating life is always a selfless gift. A quote of my dad's, "When you're right, you're left in the middle" has been a consistent reminder to me in life's puzzles and stories. I am in the middle of mourning and celebrating. Dad was right and that keeps me in the middle.
Balanced.
My parents transitioned just one week apart. April 28th then May 6th. As sad as that seems, it was/is one of the best gifts ever. While we could not have scripted a better plan, the void of their absence is utterly vast at times. Fortunately, I feel them around me so often, the void becomes a vortex of love embracing my heart. Two days after he passed, they both came to me in a sure fire way to let me know they're together and having fun, again.
In the last month or so of his life here in this dimension, when I would visit, of course I'd want to do anything I could to make him more comfortable. As part of that, I started working on soothing some of the discomforts he was having. I'd massage his swollen legs and feet. One day, I arrived and found he had wrapped electrical tape around his foot to hold a piece of what might have been paper towel (one never knew what he might utilize as a remedy) to cover up the spot he had worked on earlier that day to reduce a plantars wart.
It was easy enough to work around it, even though he said it would not hurt him to touch it. But what really got me was the flood of memories that began to emerge. I will go into some of those, but right now, I want to share my take on the whole experience that ended up being a gift my parents provided.
At my father's feet, I began to see a gentle giant being forced into letting go. He fought the cancer the best way he could. He was a super duper trooper. Even under the ever increasing doses of Morphine and Ativan, he would make sure we knew how to do things he could no longer do, and was always to remain the master of the "clicker" (tv remote) as both he and mom called it.
The ginormous TV was just a few feet from the end of the hospital bed and was most often alarmingly loud. If visitors were lucky, golf or something other than CNN or MSNBC was on! Sometimes, I could not hold back commenting on how the news was just replaying the same things over and over again. It's called 'programming' for a reason, Pa! I mention the beastly TV because my mom, who was fairly deaf, and riddled with dementia, would not wear her hearing aids, mainly because dad said she would take them out and lose them, so everything and everyone had to be loud.
Some moments were like a comedy routine as I sat there with her to my left and my dad right in front of me. She would ask the same questions over and over, and to answer her, I'd have to yell. This made relaxing a valiant effort for my dad! Sometimes he'd have to say, Okay, I have to take a break now just to shift things a bit and change mom's questions at least a tad. Too often, in her "dementia'd" state of mind, she would fuss and cuss at him for being lazy and not doing the things he used to do. She could not remember why he was in a hospital bed nor why he could not get up and take care of her or himself. I will never ever forget, one day, after one of her mini(many) verbal attacks, he turned to me and said "Is there anything worse?" and my heart broke. Here were these two people, love birds actually, who've been married for 57 years, together, but so alone and longing for each other. She couldn't remember therefore he couldn't be comforted. He was such a loving and generous soul. He knew why she was doing and saying things, but at the same time, his life partner was just "not there" for him when he needed her most. Seeing her by his side was enough to him for a while, but after the statement, he confirmed he felt alone.
This song makes me think of dad and his love for mom.
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| On April 9th, their 57th Anniversary He wanted to sit closer to his sweetheart. |
I am at ease in the arms of a woman
although now most of my days are spent alone
a thousand miles from the place I was born
But when she wakes me she takes me back home
Now most days I spend like a child
whos afraid of ghosts in the night
I know there aint nothing out there
Im still afraid to turn on the light
I am at ease in the arms of a woman
although now most of my days are spent alone
a thousand miles from the place I was born
but when she wakes me she takes me back home
A thousand miles from the place I was born
But when she wakes me she takes me back home
I am at ease in the arms of a woman
although now most of my days are spent alone
a thousand miles from the place I was born
when she wakes me she takes me
Yeah, when she wake me she takes me
Yeah, when she wake me she takes me back home
When she wake me she takes me back home.
although now most of my days are spent alone
a thousand miles from the place I was born
But when she wakes me she takes me back home
Now most days I spend like a child
whos afraid of ghosts in the night
I know there aint nothing out there
Im still afraid to turn on the light
I am at ease in the arms of a woman
although now most of my days are spent alone
a thousand miles from the place I was born
but when she wakes me she takes me back home
A thousand miles from the place I was born
But when she wakes me she takes me back home
I am at ease in the arms of a woman
although now most of my days are spent alone
a thousand miles from the place I was born
when she wakes me she takes me
Yeah, when she wake me she takes me
Yeah, when she wake me she takes me back home
When she wake me she takes me back home.
-- Amos Lee
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| Mom's last night on earth |
Etched.
Dad even spontaneously sang a Monty Python song to which several joined in. I was able to voice record from an iPhone about 33 minutes of our moments and captured the said impromptu vocals. Another one of many treasures created during mom's transition was Deborah. The sweetest woman I believe I've ever met. She immediately knew how special these moments were. Our laughter touched others the day/night we spent there. Deborah was authentic and as country as the day is long. At one point in the wee late night, early morning hours of our sit in, she asked my dad if he'd like some coffee and he did. It was when she said " you wont some haif and haif or pader" that silence set in. After a moment.. he questionably requested the haif and haif ? It was decided that pader was powdered creamer! Love that gal!
Daylight came and a couple of us went. We intended to get a shower and come right back a little more refreshed etc... We three siblings were not there when she made her transition, but my eldest child, Christopher and mom and dad's best buddy and caregiver, Danny were there with Dad. They could tell the time for her last breath was close so they left Dad there, holding moms hand and she flew away. If it had not been for the kindness and love of Hospice workers, he would not have been able to be with her. I have limitless gratitude for the Solace center and our experiences there.
Less than one week later, Dad entered the Solace Center to ease the discomforts and inabilities that were coming in even faster now that mom was gone. He said, as we[my siblings and I] returned to mom's room just after she passed, "now I can go in peace, he hoped" and we were with him to help in his preparing to make his own journey, in or out.
It was at my father's feet I felt life and death merging! There were crazy emotions and feelings. Many times tragic, comical, frustrating, endearing and comforting all together. There are many more stories and so many amazing details I could share. Sitting here and remembering is cathartic. The swirling thoughts of what to write and share are ready for a rest. I am a fairly green blogger as shown by the history of Lovesilly's blog. Today though, the push to write was as loud as that big ol' TV that was dad's anchor and I cannot ignore it either! This is just the beginning of the stories I want to share.
To be continued...
