Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Fa, la, la, la, la.....

Deck the Halls is one my LEAST favorite Christmas carols.  It always seemed rather pointless to me,  "Don we now our gay apparalll"  ok, whatever.   Of course, my Mom loved all things Christmas.  To a dyed-in-the-wool decorating freak like herself, Christmas was the Holy Grail, Nirvana and all those other rolled into one.  Imagine it, a holiday that literally expects you to move furniture and nic-nacs out of your house, pack them away, to put up other decorations and nic-nacs, so you can look at them for a just a month, then do it again.   Don't get me wrong, I'm right there with the rest of the lemmings doing it as early as everyone else.  I don't live in a very large house, so I don't have room to go Ikea crazy with the decorations.   But I do like a nice tree and a few other decorations.  This year I put up one of my Mom's last purchases in the decoration arena.  She had this several piece porcelain nativity that I took home with me.  It's very lovely, but would look lovelier in the middle of my 4000 square foot home.  So, I don't have one of those, I still put it up. 

I also put up a fiber-optic snowman outside, one that was still in the box, never used by her.  It made my dad happy that I have it up.  I am going up to his house Friday evening to decorate his tree and make his house festive.  It makes him happy to have things like my Mom might have had them, so I comply. 

Friends have been asking me how I'm doing this Christmas.  To be honest, I'm doing rather well.  Yes, I miss my Mom, yes I wish she was here, healthy and bugging me about helping her put up countless lights and tinsel on her tree.   I know my Dad wishes she was here, healthy or not, but I don't wish her here the way she was at the end.  My Mom is much happier where she is, despite the fact that I wish she was here.  

So here I am, my second Christmas without my mom.  So far, so good. 

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Thanksgiving and other milestones

I think Thanksgiving is one of the most underrated and under appreciated holidays on our calendar.  Each year Christmas is moved up further and further in the retail and pop culture calendar till soon we will be seeing Christmas commericals during St. Patricks Day.    My Mom was always the Thanksgiving culinary artist in our family.  The two years before she passed and actually many years before that, my Dad was the one that really cooked the turkey with input from my mother.  So this year my dad had planned to buy a ham and cook that and take it to our family dinner.  However, my great aunt was disappointed that she would not get her turkey carcasse this year.  Each year my family gives my Aunt the turkey carcasse and she picks it clean and makes turkey and barley soup. 

So with much consideration and thought, my dad and I are going to make the turkey and dressing this year.  Its going to be a considerable effort, and something that I am sure my mother will find most amusing.  The dressing will not be hers, for sure, but I never liked oyster dressing anyway.  My dad is excited about it.  I think he wants to show that he can cook just as good as my mom and also anything that reminds him of the normalcy of our old life makes him happy.  

As the holiday's approach, I am actually very happy and excited to see them.  I think that the past two years were such a trial with my mom's sickness that this year is much lighter, despite her abscence.  There will be moments of sadness, I'm sure, but I hope that it is tinged more with happy remembrance.

As the year closes, I also am thinking of all the people that have touched my life through my mom's illness and wondering what they are thinking this time of year.     Those that I know from the Shydrager (MSA) list, I know have lost family members during the past year too as well as those that are still fighting this terrible disease.      A former employee lost his father this week, another former employee  lost his great aunt and great grandmother.   Each death reminds me of my mom, my grandmother, my grandfather and everyone else that has gone before me. 

Death is part of life.  I always thought that was corny, but it makes a lot of sense now.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Anniversaries

I signed on and realized that I hadn't posted since September!  I have been going through some personal health issues, that luckily, for now, seem to be minor. 

But the main reason I am here is that today is the 1 year anniversary of my mom's death.  At 10:50 pm, one year ago, my mom took her last breath and stepped into the arms of her Savior. 

Though this year was most certainly better for her than it was last year, the seperation has not been as easy for the family that remains.   It's been an interesting year.  My Dad seems to be plugging along ok and I have my moments but have done far better than I ever dreamed I would. 

I really don't know how the other family members have been dealing with things.  I don't see my aunt and uncles too often, nor extended family either.  Facebook has kept me up to date with my cousins, but that's about it.  I have a Great Aunt that is pushing 100 that is in my care now (more calls to see how she is doing etc)  She was very close to my Mother, so this year has been hard for her.  She has no children, so we were her surrogate children and grandchildren. 

But this year can't have been easy for my mom's siblings.  My mother was kind of the "glue" that held our family together.  She made sure our family at least got together a few times a year.  She remembered all he birthdays, holidays, everything.   I know that mantle has fallen to me, but I am definitely not that type of person.  I have a hard time remembering my own anniversary.  For instance today, the bank I work at sent me a flower for my bank anniversary. Totally forgot!

But this isn't about me.  This is just to say that last year a shining light in this world went out. 

I understand more something my grandmother told me when I was a child.  The older you get the easier it is to leave this world--because more people you know are in the next one that here!

Monday, September 20, 2010

Real Estate

One of the things that I knew I would have to deal with after my Mom died was my Dad's whims.  He tends to want to do everything at once then changes his mind in two hours about that too.   Lately he has been very lonely without my Mom where they lived together.  Don't get me wrong, he always misses my Mom, but lately, he's just been feeling the lonliness more than usual.  I dread the winter when he doesn't have the distractions of the yard to mow, something to fix, or the garden to work in.  So he has been on the kick of selling his place again.  It's true that someday he will have to move.  My dad is 75 years old, a very fit and spry 75, but 75 nonetheless.  So eventually the 5.5 acres of ground he has will need to be tended by a younger person.  So he's been looking at places to live in town and closer to my husband and I to live.  The problems is that my dad lives in a manufactured home.  To those of you that aren't familiar, manufactured homes are quite common in Indiana.  Unfortunately the powers that be at Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae as well as the PMI companies find them less than standard housing these days, thanks to the mortgage crisis.  So my dad will have a hard time getting his place sold, not because of its condition or where it is, which are all very good, but because of the lack of financing available for people buying it.

So its been an up and down process.  Right now, my dad is back to not wanting to sell, at least not now.  He is busy beautifying it, sorting items to get rid of etc.  I've told him that he shouldn't make big decisions like this the first year after mom was gone.  Well as the anniversary of her death looms closer, he still is deciding to stay or to move or to move or to stay.

Its enough to make a person scream!  Oh well, I will put up with it for now.  Who knows it might be all that wondering that keeps him young.   Of course its making me old!

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Another Death

I belong to a support group mailing list on Yahoo for MSA.  I haven't been on there for ages, but decided to stick my nose in today.  One of the frequent contributors on there finally lost her husband to MSA.  It never ceases to amaze me how much something like that can totally change my outlook on the day.

I don't know these people at all, just through their posts.  Never talked to them on the phone, never met them in person.   But I feel just awful about the death of this gentleman.   One thing the internet has done for good is support for people with diseases that aren't "sexy" or the new "in" disorder.   Nobody knows what MSA is for the most part.  They say, "MS?" and you have to go into a lenghthy discussion of what it is.  For someone dealing day-to-day with the rigors of caring for someone with this disease, or worse yet the patient themselves, this is a pain in the butt.  (I cleaned that up, by the way.)

So when you hear about someone else that has lost someone to this disease, it hurts all over again.  

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Moving on....

For those of you that have lost a loved one recently, or not so recently, you've heard the mantra -Well you need to move on.   Move where?  Afghanistan?  I know that I'm being kind of snippy, but I really find it difficult for people who have never experienced a loss to come up to you and say, "You seem to be doing well, you must have moved on."  Think of strangling them?  I do?

Now, I've been thinking about those words "move on" more lately.  My dad is working on getting our family home ready for sale.  He is getting to the age where he can't take care of it anymore, though right now he still does very well, he could one day be unable to.   This is the place I grew up.  I lived there from the time I was in 1st grade until I finally moved away in my 20s. My mom died in that house, in her own room, my grandparents lived there most of their lives.   I thought about buying it, but then I couldn't "move on", and then the words sort of made sense.    Sunday I was walking around taking pictures of landmarks.  The cement floor of my dad's workshop that had his name and the year it was built written in the ground, my mom's rose bush starting to bud.  It was so overwhelming, I felt as if I was losing my mom all over again.     But then I thought, no matter where I am I will carry those memories with me.   It hasn't made it any easier, mind you, but it may just get me through it.   Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you look at it, my dad has so much stuff of my mom's and his, it will take a good year or better just to get through everything.   I have to remember this will be best for my dad.   Of course, he is getting ancy about it too.   But right now, getting things in order is keeping him busy, so I will go with it.

I guess I won't obsess too much about this right now.  Dealing with two deaths so close together isn't what I need.  

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Random Thursday Thoughts

I was driving down our town's main throroughfare today at lunch listening to our local Moody radio station.  Chuck Swindoll was preaching about have a relationship with Jesus.  As I was driving down the road he got to altar call and mentioned that we all will die one day and be a corpse.   Pretty graphic for old Chuck on a random Thursday afternoon.   But it was one of those moments that just brought me up sharp.   If you knew my Mother she was a larger than life person in many respects.  She touched so many people and affected so many people's lives.  She lived her life happily, despite her many health concerns, and was a huge part of my day to day existence.  Then she was just....gone.   Her body was a shell, her organs were finished and to be rather graphic, as Chuck was, she was a corpse.   The vivacious, loving person that I had known all my life was nothing more than a collection of skin and bones to be put in a box and be disposed of. 

Now I don't want to come across as gross or disrespectful, because I have a point here, and if you aren't a religious person, beware.  Heavy Christian content to follow!:::::

I, frankly, don't know how anyone gets through the death of a loved one who doesn't know Jesus or isn't sure that loved one did.   My Mom was not the person that is in the ground up at Gardens of Memory Cemetary in Huntington, IN.   The part that WAS my mom is with God.   My Dad asked me the other day he wished he could be sure of that.   My Dad is a relatively new Christian (compared to my Mother) and he has never really done much more than say the Sinners prayer.   Coming to Jesus as an older person is sometimes difficult.  You have the doubts of adult life to prey on you in times like this.   I told him that I was sure of it and if he truly believed that I was as smart of a person as he tells everyone that will listen he should believe its true.   He laughed, but seriously, it isn't up to my brain that my mom is with Jesus or my Dad's lack of true belief.   It's just a fact.  Has my Mother shown up to me in some sort of misty vision since her death telling me she is ok?  No.  Has she "visited" me in dreams, yes.   But if I don't hear her voice again until its my time to "cross over the river", I will have the faith that she will be there waiting for me on the other side.  

I urge anyone who doesn't know this for sure about anyone you know or yourself, please find someone who can tell you about the gospel.  You will be eternally glad you did.  Thus endeth the sermon for the day.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Fourth of July

Wow, been a while since I posted on here!  Lots going on in my life right now, but can't neglect this holiday going by without a mention.  Independence Day was a special day for my mom and me.  It wasn't the fireworks or anything like that, though they played a part.   When I was about 3 years old, my mom had Hodgekins Lymphoma.  In the 70s, this was pretty much a death sentence, and hers had spread to her bones.  She had been given 6 months to live not more than a week or so before the 4th of July that year.  My dad, who was working 60 hour weeks to pay for my mom's treatments, was working the evening of that July 4th in the glass factory in our home town.  The house we lived in, sat within walking distance to the plant and the park behind that, where they shot off the fireworks.  My mom was too frail to take me to the park and it was raining that evening anyway.   Despite the rain, they decided to shoot the fireworks.  So we sat, me on her lap, in the cab of my dad's old truck, the rain hitting the window, watching the fireworks shooting up over the black outline of Owens-Illinois glass factory.  I was entranced by the pretty lights, but I didn't know till years later that my mom was crying, holding back tears that streamed down her face, because she thought that was going to be the last July 4th that she would ever spend with me.  She didn't think she would see me grow up.

How wrong she was!  God had other plans for my mom.  Not only did she see me grow up, she saw me graduate high school, college and Graduate school, get married, have a career and many other milestones.  So each year the 4th came around, it was another year she got to spend with the little girl in the truck all those years ago.  

Though God did eventually take my mom home this past year, and many of the holidays this year have been a struggle, I want to make this one the celebration its intended to be. 

Because this year, my mom is really living more than she ever did.  I miss her, but that isn't what I plan to think of. 

That's enough reason for fireworks in itself!

Sunday, May 30, 2010

Memorial Day Weekend

I know what this weekend is about.   Primarily, its about honoring our fallen dead who have sacrificed in our wars to keep us free.   But I know lots of warriors who never shot a gun.  One of them is my mom, who is buried at Gardens of Memory in Marion, In.   My husband works as a funeral planner at a local funeral home and memorial park.  Ironic, I suppose.  This is his busy weekend.  He has worked 12 hour days all week and will through Monday.  My dad and I spent the day together yesterday.  I planned to go, after church and a memorial service at my husband's cemetary, to go visit my mom's grave.   I've been up there twice this month already.  However, my dad, as is his wont lately, has another excuse not to go up there with me.  I know he finds it hard to go, and I went up on Mother's day with my husband.   But I plan not to push him. 

My mom would understand, I think.  Her grave is very tidy, decorated, as is my Grandparents grave.   So no need to spruce it up at this point.   I will see what the day brings.   After all, she admonished me, if my grave doesn't look nice I'll haunt you.   Well, mother, it looks just fine.

Have a nice day everyone.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Mother's Day

Yes, another milestone day.  I'm not as upset today as I was on my Mom's birthday, but it doesn't mean I'm bouncing off the walls either.  It's early and I am getting up, starting to get ready for church.  Mother's Day was always a special day for my Mom and me.  Not just because it was Mother's day, which could be enough, but because it always fell either the day before or on my birthday.   Last year, my last Mother's day with my mom, it fell on my Birthday.  We celebrated it in the confines of the Mayo clinic in Rochester, MN.  It fell over a weekend, and thankfully, there were no tests to be run on her during those two days.  While I was going through it, I felt that it was the worst birthday of my life, and that spending those two weeks in that hotel room with my mom and dad, wondering what was going to happen each day, watching my mom unable to hardly stand, go to the bathroom on her own, and choking on her food, was the most terrifying thing I had ever experienced. 

Funny how a year gives you perspective.  I realize now that God put me there for a reason.   I had to take two weeks off work to go up there and almost didn't go.  I know now, that if I hadn't, several things would have happened.  My Dad might have had a heart attack from the stress of being there alone and caring for my mom.  But the main thing was that I would have lost two precious weeks of being alone with my parents for the last time.  Yes, there were sad and trying times and it was hard.   But there were fun times, sitting there watching silly Golden Girls episodes, making my mom laugh, watching my parents interact in loving ways, that were soon to pass. 

So, remember, that every moment is precious.  No matter how difficult it may seem, you need to work through it and give of yourself to those you love.  For you never know if its the very last time you will get that chance.   Did I dream that would be the last birthday, the last Mother's day, the last everything I would spend with my mom?  Even in her condition, no way.   But it was. 

I thank God for pushing me to do that, giving me the foresight to know what I had to do, and the strength to just do it.  Happy Mother's Day, Momma.  I hope today is good for you. 

Monday, April 26, 2010

Dreams

I felt horrible yesterday.  I woke up with sinus issues that made me feel as if I was getting really sick.  I thought, oh no!  Not another reason to ruin my vacation!  I slept quite a bit yesterday and feel much better today.  But with sleep, comes dreams.

Up till now, dreams that have my mom in them have made me sad upon waking and wishing she was there.  Don't get me wrong, I had my sad moments yesterday, but this wasn't one of them.  I had a dream that my mom and I were sitting on my lawn chatting.  I was well aware she was dead in the dream, but it didn't bother me like it had in past dreams.  She looked as she had when I was high school, younger, full of life.  I told her that she should call my dad, because he had really been wanting to hear from her.  She liked the idea and whipped out her cell phone.  She kept trying to dial and wouldn't get anyone.  I asked her what number she was calling and she chanted off my dad's old cell number.   I gave her his new number and she tried it, no good.  I got up from my chair and tried to take the phone from her and she said, quite indignant, "I can do it!  I'm ok, now after all!"   I looked at her phone and I said, "Mom your phone doesn't work, I cancelled the contract."  She gave me a wide eyed look and said, "Why?"
I said, "um, mom, your dead."
She said, in characteristic mom style, "SO!" as if to say, "what cheek!  I might need my phone!"

The dream made me laugh.  I haven't laughed with a dream about mom in a long time.  I thank her for that.  I know she was trying to tell me something in that dream.   She misses our times together, wants to chat with us and be with us, because, after all, she's ok now.  But she just can't. 

As it says in Eccleisates 3:4 "There is a season for everything...."a time to weep and a time to laugh"
My mom reminded me of this in her style.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Vacation!!!!

It's been several years since we've been on vacation.  2005 to be exact.  We've been places, but never really on vacation.   Two vacations were planned, but had to be changed due to my mom's illness.   The last "mini-vacation" I went on, I did nothing but worry about her.  Not this year.  We plan to go on vacation this year.  Soon, actually.   I plan to carry her spirit with me and not obsess about stuff this time around.  I feel truly free to enjoy myself for the first time in a long time.

I will be concerned about my Dad, but I won't be gone that long. 

I am so excited to get to the date that I can hardly wait!   Working each day has become a struggle as I wait!

God grant me the patience to wait till the reward!  And God grant us a worry free vacation this year! 

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

The Green Monster

Jealousy?  No, not that green monster.  The monster is fear.  Real or imagined, fear can paralyze you.  It's one of the major regrets I have now, since my Mom has passed.  When she was alive and free of MSA, just fighting her normal day-to-day battles with heart issues, I worried about her every minute.  I worried about if she was ok, called her all the time.  Now this didn't happen all the time, mind you, but I did obsess about it some times to the point of ruining vacations, work days, and all sorts of time I will never get back.  In this case, it was imagined fear.  My mom was fine.  This past year, when I traveled to the Mayo clinic with my Mom and Dad, just about this time last year actually, I found out what real fear was.   I found out my Mom really was dying this time, and that no amount of doctor intervention would help.  A miracle would do it, but God had decided this was her last battle-something I realized after a few months. 

Lately, the green boy is back.  I don't have my Mom to obsess over, so I have turned it onto myself.  I have been concerned for some time that my Mom's disease might be hereditary.  Though it states in the literature that in 95% of cases its not, my family has a tendency to fall into that 5% all the time.  My Grandfather died of Parkinson's disease combined with several strokes.  His brothers all had some sort of neurological disease.  Either Parkinsons or Alzheimers.  My mom was my grandpa's only child and I am her only child.  So, you do see my concern. 

So lately I have noticed little things that remind me of my mom's issues happening to me.  All of them could be explained by stress, possible perimenopause, and several other things.  But my mind has leaped to the possibility that I will be another MSA stat and that I will be one of those young people who get this dreaded disease.   I have a talent for leaping to the worst possible conclusion because in my lifetime, many times, it always seems to be the worst possible thing.  My mom was told she was going to die more times than I can count, after all. 

What makes it different this time is that I have her experience to bring some of this into perspective.   Worrying does no good.  If you get it, you do.  There is no cure, so knowing ahead of time really isn't going to make things any better.   So each time I accidentally drop a cup, feel my fingers wanting to move a little too hard on my mouse when I didn't expect it, or I trip over something (usually my cat!), or can't find the word for something I am trying to say, my mind tends to think, "Oh no, is this the start of it?"

Who knows.  If God intends for me to be another in our family to die of a neurological disorder, then I will, right?  

But, God?  I'd really rather not.  

Green monster wins again I guess.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

And the hits just keep on comin'!

I thank God now for trials as well as blessings.  Does that sound crazy?  Well it isn't, really.  We are called to thank the Lord for both, equally.  In truth, we are called to thank Him for the trials more.   Do you ever feel like your Christian walk begins to get less and less a priority when things are good?  It's human nature.  If things are good, we go along with our nomal lives, getting lulled into a sense of security.   It is evil?  Probably not, its just the way we are.  Can evil draw us there?   Sure can.  

Well, its obvious that I've been through my share of trials lately.  I thought I would mention a few more that just happened the past month or so.  My husband lost his job in February, his car died on Tuesday and we had to shell out repairs, his computer broke down, my car's check engine light came on, work has been stressful.  I could go on. 

But my husband and I just laughed.  Yes, laughed.  "Boy,"  my husband said, "We must be doing something right to be attacked this much!"  Yes I believe that attacks come from the enemy to steal our joy or make us turn our backs on God.  If you aren't a believer, you'll find all this rather nutty.  But that's the way it is, whether you believe it or not. 

On the up side, my husband  received a small inheritance that has helped things, his car was fixed and cost less than we thought, his computer was covered under the warranty and my care was fine.   All worked out ok.  Does it always work out ok?  No.  But I will still praise the Lord in my trials.  I may not like it, but praise is a choice, not a reaction.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Happy Birthday

Today is my Mom's birthday.  If she would have lived she would have been 66 today.  As I mentioned in my Easter blog entry, I didn't give too much thought to these milestones before.  I figured they would be difficult, but not too overwhelming. 

Well I was wrong and I was right.   Let me explain.  I woke up this morning to get ready for Sunday School and Church and found that I just was unable to do anything without crying.  You see myself, my husband, my dad, my sister and my aunt are all going to the cemetary later today to see the flowers my dad purchased to put on my Mom's grave.   This will only be the second time I've been up there.   The first time was with my dad alone in March.  It wasn't as difficult as I imagined, but seeing the fresh dirt on the ground, and grave stone with the needle and thread on it signifying her, upset me.   I could have cried long and hard there for a bit, which would have been cathartic.  But I can't cry in front of my dad.  He just can't take seeing my cry any more than he could take my mom doing it.  The two of us have always been the strong ones in our family.  When something happens, people literally look at us to see our reactions to temper how they will react.   Its a blessing and a curse at the same time.   A blessing, because you can help others remain strong during a crisis, a curse because you can only grieve in private. 

Private grieving is what my mom always did and had to do. 

I guess the torch has passed.

 My husband is going to church without me today.  I need some private grieving time before we go to the cemetary.  Traditions can be interesting, can't they?

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Never Underestimate Grief

Last night I felt like such a fraud.   I've been on this blog saying how happy I am that my mom is in a better place, that she has told me she is ok, yada, yada.   Well as Easter has approached, a holiday that my mother LOVED, I find myself getting more and more depressed.

The last two days I have done something I haven't done in months.  Cry uncontrollably in the shower.  The shower is a great place for crying, don't you think?  I mean, you are already wet, you already look like junk, why not cry too.  Plus, you can't be heard in there very well.  Perfect crying closet. 

When my mom died, I had this crushing guilt over her final days.   My mom started having pain in her legs and all over her body, she began crying constantly, couldn't stop.  She would call out all the time and pull at her legs.  Her swallowing became non-existent as well and she couldn't hardly take her meds.  I found out later that this had been going on for several weeks, from my dad.     The only thing that would quiet her and give her some relief was drops of morphine, adminstered through a liquid in her mouth.   She was very sensitive to medicine, but hospice told us that the morphine was so light and such a small amount, that it would only make a person sleep.   Well, when they told us that the pain she was going through was the dying process, we relented in giving her more morphine.  This is common for people in their final days/hours, but I couldn't get over the idea that maybe we were accelerating her death.   Hospice told me over and over that there was nothing that could be done and that if we took her to the hospital, they would try to use heroic measures such as feeding tubes (she couldn't swallow), vents (for breathing) or intraveneous morphine (stronger than what we were giving her.)  My mom said many times she didn't want a feeding tube, didn't want to go to the hospital, didn't want any of that.   She had a do not rescussitate on her living will.   She stopped swallowing, could not take her meds anymore, pills that, in essence, were keeping her alive.  So really, nothing could have been done more to help her at this point.  

But I still feel like I didn't do what she wanted.  I still have moments where I wish she could have told me what she wanted.  When her swallowing stopped, her ability to communicate stopped too.  She was crying as if she was trying to tell me something, but I never could get out of her what it was.   When I finally told her, after a couple of days, that they told us she was dying, she calmed down.  I think she just didn't understand that this was the final fight.  She didn't have to struggle anymore.   For someone who had lived through a terminal cancer diagnosis in her 20s, breast cancer in her 40s, heart disease in her 50s and 60s, just laying down the fight is hard to do. 

My husband asked me the same questions I ask myself.  What if she had lived through this crisis?  She would have been in a nursing home the following week, and my mom didn't want to go to a nursing home.   My wonderful husband also said, "God takes us in His own time.   You second guessing God?"  Sage advice from my hubby.  

I guess my biggest issue is that I was unable to be at my mom's side every minute that last 7 days.  I was there, don't get me wrong, but for the most part my husband, my two uncles and my sister sat vigil.   My dad and I, after years of constant caregiving, and some of the hardest months in our lives,  just couldn't watch it anymore.   I feel like I abandoned her when she needed me the most.  I still carry that with me, though I know, deep down, my mom has forgiven any weakness I might have shown in those last days, and knows that I did my best.  

What I am saying is never underestimate grief.  It comes in lulls and bursts.  I have just had a burst.   My friend, who has lost both her parents, told me that the "firsts" are the worst.   First Easter, First Birthday, etc. 

I discounted that early on, but not again.     I know somewhere my mom is trying to reach across the great divide between this world and the next and comfort me.   I will take all I can get right now, Mommy.  I'm sorry for my mistakes.   I did the best I could. 

If I made some that I shouldn't have, I guess she can admonish me in glory.  We'll have eternity to commiserate about every detail.

Somehow I don't think she plans to do that when I see her again.   Just not her style

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Maundy Thursday

No, its not a Mama's and Papa's song.  On the liturgical calendar, today is Maundy Thursday.  Today is remembered as the night that Christ had his Last Supper with his disciples before he then walked to the Mount of Olives, and was later arrested.  

I was raised in a non-liturgical church.   We didn't celebrate Maundy Thursday services.  I knew nothing about them until I took a part-time job as a church secretary/administrator at a Presbyterian church in the early 90s.  Though my demonination does not celebrate these type of remembrances, I find going through the motions of what actually happened on those nights as very interesting.   I plan to attend a Good Friday service tomorrow if I can make it out of my office.  There are several churches in town that have them, I will just need to look for them.

The only problem I have with these type of services is that many times its more about the service, the pomp and pagentry, then it is about what is really going on.   Jesus was definitely not a pomp and pagentry type of guy.   I find it difficult to believe that the minister of one of the services tomorrow is going to whip out his towel and bowl of water and begin washing our feet.   Besides the fact that most people would probably run screaming from the building because they were touched inappropriately, modern man just isn't that humble.   Don't be too hard on modern man, though.   Ancient man wasn't that humble either.  Peter, the disciple called His Rock, by Jesus, was appalled when, that night, Christ began washing his disciples feet.  He told Christ that it was basically below him to be doing this.   Christ told Peter he was acting like the devil.  Literally.  It was bad day for Peter, after all.   He got into lots of trouble later that night.  

But never put yourself above any of these men when you read the Bible or hear of what they did.   These were ordinary men put into extraordinary situations.   I only hope I would have a tenth of the strength of Peter or a tiny bit of the love and excitement of John.  

So as you go scurrying around trying to find that bag of Reese cup eggs on sale, or that perfect box of Peeps for your Easter baskets, remember this holiday isn't about the Easter Bunny or chocolate.  It's about the God of the universe lowering himself into the body of "just a guy."  Someone like you and me. 

Though, I believe Jesus is the kind of guy that would have loved Reese cup eggs.  Don't you?   I know plenty of carpenters and builders who can't resist and a little PB and Chocolate. 

Point is, this holiday is all about Him.  Let's try to keep that way.

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Where is my Pumpkin?

I love pumpkin.  The Libby's in the can pumpkin, not the mix.   It is good for you, helps with digestion and I just love the taste of it.  I find it nature's perfect food.  Well, since Christmas I haven't been able to beg, borrow or steal a can of pumpkin.   I went online to the world's warehouse, Amazon, and found I could buy a case of some no-name organic pumpkin for about 28.00.  However, the shipping was nearly 13.00.  No way. 

So I began looking for a substitute for my pumpkin fix.   Yams?  Too many calories packed in all that sugar and goo they pack them in.   So I may find myself buying squash and trying to cook it.  That was a disaster last time I tried, the stuff is hard as a rock. 

This is something I would normally call and commiserate with my Mom about.  We would probably find ourselves laughing at the silliness of not being able to find something that normally people only think about at Thanksgiving.    My Mom ate lots of pumpkin during her fight with MSA.   Constipation was a constant friend with her.  I know, icky right?  Grow up, everybody poops.   Anyway, I mixed a pumpkin concoction, generous with brown sugar, some olive oil and apple butter that was easy for her to swallow, tasted good and sweet and helped her go the bathroom.   I would go up once a week and make up her week's supply of pumpkin "crap" as she called it. 

I always thought to myself, how horrible that I have to spoon feed my mom in her bed with this mush.   But I look back at the those evenings with sweetness.   I would drive up after work and sit by her bed, watching "Bones" or "Law and Order" on TNT, fix her something to eat so my dad could rest, and make sure I fed her her pumpkin before I left.    She couldn't walk, so she was stuck in her room with her TV most days.   Life wasn't getting in the way, it was just us.  We could just be together.  I would hold her hand, tell her about my day at work, and also allow her to cry on my shoulder.   Mom wasn't a crying person, but this disease made her break down at the littlest things.   I remember one night when we both sobbed at "State Farms, I'll be there" commercial.   I can't watch that commercial now without thinking of her.  As I sit here, the work day winding down, I wish I had to go up and feed her "crap" to her. 

There are lots of things I can't do without thinking of her. 

Even looking for my stupid pumpkin.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Patience is a virtue.....yeah whatever

You ever had days when every single thing is trying to steal your joy and peace?  I started my day pretty relaxed today, but then one thing after another has happened to stick a needle into my proverbial balloon. 

Christians attribute most of this to the enemy, Satan, causing your problems.  Sometimes they are self-caused and sometimes its just the way it is. 

Most of the time, its how you react to it.   I guess I will have to adjust my attitude today not to react to everything badly.  

I can totally relate to Ralph of the Honeymooners right now, though.  "To the moon Alice!  To the moon!"

Monday, March 29, 2010

Easter Week

Palm Sunday has always struck me as a picture of the human condition.   We, in today's world, think we would never be as fickle as the Jews were who were welcoming Jesus into Jerusalem.   A little explanation.  The reason we celebrate Palm Sunday is that it signifies the triumphal entry of Jesus into the city, as the Jewish inhabitants of that day cheered him as their deliverer.  However, they thought he was going to deliver them from the Romans.  He had something else in mind.  In a week they were crying for him to be crucified.  
As they waved their palm fronds and sang their songs, I thought about the recent victory of Butler University in NCAA basketball.  I'm not basketball fan, by any means, but it struck me how easily those palm fronds could be foam fingers and college flags. 
If Butler would have lost, we would have turned on them like a den of vipers, right?  We are fickle.  We like the winner. 

When Jesus went to the cross, they thought he was a loser, so they turned away.  When he convicted them of their sins, it got uncomfortable, so they turned away.   Thanks be to God, not all did, or where would we be today?

I don't claim to be a great theologian, or even an expert on the human condition, but I have eyes.  I can see how people are.  I can see how I am.   I'm fickle too.  I fight against it, but I am.  If someone isn't doing well in my eyes, I tend to give them less attention.  In my business, this is considered good management.  You are supposed to lavish the most time and attention on the employee who is doing well.  It adds more to your bottom line.  Don't waste your valuable coaching minutes on someone who isn't going to succeed anyway.

We, as Christians and people, have to do something different than the throng of the many.  Success isn't always measured by our yardstick.   My mom died in November.  To everyone else, that was a failure of God to not heal her, or she finally lost her battle.  

Friends, its the opposite.  My mom's weapons were laid down.   She finally won her battle.  And in so doing, won the war.  

Saturday, March 27, 2010

I'm ok....really!

My mother was a creative lady.  She was a seamstress, she could embroider, she could cross-stitch, knit, crochet, sew, etc.  If it was possible with thread, glue, flower arranging, anything, she could do it.  And do it well.  The past few months, I have been helping my father clean out my mom's sewing room and storage room that housed all the supplies she used for her wedding and floral business, among 65 years of sewing supplies, patterns and various bric-a-brac.  This may sound very simple on the surface, but let me explain a few things to you.   My mother never did anything half way.  If there was a sale on something she didn't buy one, she bought a gross.  She was very frugal when did these things, because, in her mind, all of these would someday have a purpose and possibly be sold or given to a lucky individual.  It all made sense to her.   She also liked to decorate for holidays.  Let's put it his way, if there had been a store for decorations for even Arbor day, she would have had them.   Not putting my mom down here, I can feel her nodding and smiling to this already. 

My point to all this, is that going through all my mother's things hasn't been the easiest thing in the world.   I spent three days at my dad's two weeks ago, just for this purpose.  While he did things outside, I had my computer set up watching old DVD's and happily was sorting into boxes my mom's lifetime of work and supplies.  I say happily, because, as you know if you've read any of my posts, I love organizing things.  So I  was happier than a pig in...well you know. 

But as I was doing this, I ran across little things that made me pause.  The room still smells like my mom and all the memories I have of her toiling away at things for people and myself.   There was the little pin cushion I bought her when I was about 10 for mother's day.  There was the seam ripper I had used countless times to rip out sewing I had started.   The gene for all this craftiness did not pass along to me!  As I found these things, I got more and more sad.  I started to think about the fact my mom was gone and I would never see her again on this side of eternity.   Then the doubts crept it.   Satan likes to give us these to torment us.  Yes, folks, Satan is real.  Was my mom really ok?   Was she alive with God, or down at the bottom of that pit in the cemetary I had just visited the day before.   As I started to tear up and get into a huge pity party, my mom reached down from Heaven and gave me a proverbial kick in the rear.  As I dumped out what seemed like the 100th drawer of sewing thread, I found a piece of paper, about 4 inches square, with words typed on it.   Why was this here?  I thought it was another pattern piece or directions to something, but to my surprise, shock and delight, this is what it said."

"Just think of stepping on shore, and finding it heaven,
of taking hold of a hand, and finding it God's hand,
of breathing new air and finding it celestial air,
of feeling invigorated and finding it immortality,
of passing from storm and tempest to an unknown calm,
of waking up and finding it Home!"

Now I'm not making this up.  This little piece of paper, at the bottom of a drawer of bobbins and thread, could easily have been thrown away years ago.  Why was it there exactly when I needed it be there?  You can all think what you like, but I think my mother was talking to me through God himself.  We don't need burning bushes to have faith, but this was burning enough for me.  For those of you that know what my mom went through in her life and her eventual death, this was like she was standing there saying this to me.  Saying, "It's ok, Deb.  I'm really happy now.  I'm ok, really."  Then a sigh like she used too when I would ask her for the 10th time if she was ok, "Yes REALLY!"

Of course the tears came flowing then.  I still have that little piece of paper.  I plan to laminate it.  It's never leaving my side again.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Basket Bingo

Since this in on the internet, persons reading this could be from all over the globe.  Well, in the midwest United States, we have a little thing called Longenberger basket bingo.  For the uninitiated, Longenberger baskets are a high quality basket created by the Longenberger company.  Local organizations have bingos, where the prizes are these highly sought after baskets.  These are usually fundraisers for schools, or not-for-profits in all shapes and sizes.   Last night, my friend, her grandson and I entered the world of competitive basket bingo.

Don't snicker.  These ladies take this stuff seriously!  We sat behind a table of ladies who, when they heard an announcement of the next bingo coming up, sponsored by another organization, reached into their handbags (properly emblazoned by bingo labels or Longenberger symbols) and eagerly wrote down the next date and time.  Some even brought out the blackberry.   Longenberger ladies are high tech too, don't you know. 

Around us sat several people in differing degrees of indoctrination.  Let me preface by saying that the organization sponsoring this was our local universities student association.   To our right was a table of college age young men, who, either there at their girlfriends urging, or by a professors, groaned and yelled out with the best of us when their letter and number was called-or was not.  This made my friends grandson happy, as he was afraid he would be the only boy.  Not so, young man!  Then there were the other table of ladies that had a bingo marker for each color the rainbow and probably had that lucky troll doll in their purse to ask for the right number.  Those of you that watched Rosanne in the 80s will understand that reference.
Floating around, selling raffle tickets and selling snacks were college girls and boys that I knew were thinking to themselves.  "Man, I hope I don't get this old and boring!"  They'll learn.  For the lure of the Longenberger will get them someday too. 

My friend and I go to one of these at least once a year.  One, there isn't much to do in our town on a work night, and two, its just fun.   Well this time, to my friend's delight, she actually won something.  As did I!

It was raining cats and dogs outside, it was close to freezing in temperature, but it was warm and happy inside next to the warmth of a hand made basket. 

Doesn't get any better than that, does it?

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Early Light Devotional - In Touch Ministries - Dr. Charles Stanley 2010

Early Light Devotional - In Touch Ministries - Dr. Charles Stanley 2010

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Rainy Days and Thursdays

When I woke up this morning, I turned over in bed to the flashing of my television that had obviously not been turned off the night before.   It was on the channel I had been watching when I fell asleep.  On the screen was Discovery Health Channel, a personal favorite of mine.  But on the screen was a show about child birth.  Now, don't get me wrong, I like children and I don't mind the act of childbirth-if someone else is doing it.
But it wasn't what I wanted to look at first thing in the morning.   The program that had been on when I went to sleep must have been something to keep my attention, because I had been watching it, right? 

My point being, life is often like this.   We tend to focus all our energies on a project, give it our heart and soul, time and attention, only to fall asleep at the switch as it morphs into something we aren't as thrilled about.   This can be at work or in your personal life. 

Moral of the story?   Follow through.   Excitement and planning only get you so far.   Follow through to the end with the same diligence and you will succeed with almost anything.   

And on a personal note.  Don't assume that person you love and are thinking about will be flickering in the morning like my television.  The OFF button may get pushed during the night.  Call them now.  You'll thank me later.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Musings of the Day

I take great pleasure in organization.  I can hear you now.  "Are you a freak?"  I like things in my life ordered and in their place.   You can imagine my shock when those around me don't always play into my view of life.  Don't get me wrong.  I like the occasional spur-of-the-moment, fly by the seat of your pants plan changes.  But it isn't my number one thing to do.  I find things happier when they are written on a pad before hand. 

My life, especially now, seldom falls into my ordered view.  Since my mother's death in November, my dad, now a widower after 43 years, finds himself alone most days.  He lives 30 miles away, so not terribly far, but with a full time job, I can't be there every minute.  Winter was hard for him.  I was told by my pastor that my father was the quentissential Indiana man.   Hard working, tough on the outside, wry sense of folksie humor, loves to work with his hands and work outside.   After working nearly 60 of his 75 years in one factory or another, hobbies were a luxury he didn't enjoy or pursue.   So sitting alone in a house still heavy with my mom's presence, her smell, her sense of decor, has been difficult.  Spring is blooming, so life is looking up for him as he has things to occupy his time.  But the grief is still there, the pain just under the surface, ready to break through like a plant bursting through the ground to grow into the spring air.

Hardly an organized situation, is it?
I daily rethink my organization theory of life.

The Next Chapter

Let me start by saying, I've always thought bloggers had to be the most self-centered, self important people on the face of the earth.  Let's face it, people blabbing about every moment of their life to total strangers?  Who cares, right?  Well I had, what could be best explained as a, road to Damascus experience when my mother was tentatively diagnosed wtih Multiple System Atrophy.  I say tentatively because most people with this disease don't know they have it until autopsy, but that's another story for another time.  For those of you that are reading this and haven't even cracked open a King James Version or another other version of the Bible, a little translation.  The Apostle Paul was confronted by the risen Christ on the road to Damascus.  It was God in your face on a higher level.  This isn't a sermon, so enough about that. 
Bloggers serve a purpose.  When I found out that not even the doctors at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester knew for sure what why Mom had, I started looking for those around me that had the disease for help.  I happened on a yahoogroups list, but also upon a few bloggers telling their story.  It then dawned on me, not unlike our friend Paul's experience, that articles on WebMD or hours of watching Mystery Diagnosis on Discovery Health aren't the same as hearing the day -to- day experiences of someone going through the disease.  So my mind was changed on blogs forever.

So if you are confused to my purpose and point here, take heart.   This isn't a blog about MSA (though there will be many mentions of it here) and it isn't a blog about the Bible (though it will be quoted liberally here) its about me and about my mother.   Someday I hope to write that book of my mom's life.  But for right now, this will have to be a good start.