The Last Word, My Mother's Daughter

Needless to say, and I am in no way seeking sympathy, but the last couple of months have been a difficult journey and a priceless treasure. Tonight after months of pain, and weeks of severe suffering, my Mother was ushered into the arms of her heavenly Father. I will forever remember her childlike smile of the last few weeks, our silly humor at Daddy's expense and the laughter we shared. Those memories far out weigh the burden of watching her slowly suffer as she slipped from her earthly home to her heavenly mansion. My sadness is only that we will have no more of those priceless moments, just the instant replay that will forever be in my heart. As a daughter, there is no greater joy than to comfort and care for the one who gave me life at the end of her life. For those who have not had the experience, let me say there is nothing quite like it. I am at peace as I know whom she believed and have total confidence that her life is just beginning to blossom. Like most Mothers and daughters we had our moments of intense fellowship and more come to Jesus meetings than I care to dwell on. Forever the Mother,  there were times when I felt I couldn't live up to her expectations and at times I know I failed her miserably. Somehow I knew she would settle those scores in her final goodbye. Last night as I lay in her room wide eyed and bushy tailed I thought to myself.... "She isn't going to let you see her pass." I'll admit that I have always envied those who told stories of their loved  ones passing while giving vivid descriptions of what lie on the other side. Some how I knew that Mom would wait until I walked out of the room and slip away behind my back in a final "gotcha" moment. A daughter knows her Mother, and true to form, I turned my back for a moment and she took the opportunity to slip away just out of my eye sight. She always did have to have the last word and in her passing she made no exception  and honestly I wouldn't expect her to. She did forget one little seemingly minuscule fact, and that's that I have a blog and she doesn't! Whose your Momma now? You ask how I could use humor at such a reverent time? Because I'm my Mother's daughter and she is the one who gave me the ornery streak that's a mile wide. She also gave me a firm foundation of faith and the a strong assurance that life is but a vapor.... Oh and taught me to never miss the chance to get the last word in. Love you forever Mom and I'll meet you on the other side.

Life In Between, Perfectly Focused

I'm huddled in the bed trying to find some warmth while waiting for Mom to trade in her earthly garments for her heavenly home. With every steady breath, Mom ticks the minutes away. There is every indication that death is just hours away, but those hours can sometimes feel like eternity. When I came home, Daddy looked exhausted. He sleeps in the room with Mom and wakes with every change in breathing and every little sound. I knew his exhaustion had reached its limit when he took me up on my offer to sleep in Mom's room so he could get some rest. Personally I believe death gets a bad rap. We tend to fight death and insulate ourselves, when in reality death on earth is just the beginning of life eternal without the tears and pain. I once heard it described as shedding a tattered overcoat for a eternal garment. What woman doesn't want a new outfit? Looking back I believe Mom has been caught between heaven and earth for the last few months. A few months ago she swore Dad swapped houses while she was at the beauty shop. Her story remained the same over the months. The house was exactly like the old one, just in a different location. Could her spirit have known what her flesh did not? Although death is hard to watch, beauty can come from the ashes of death. Mom has been happier the last few months than she has been in years. Is it possible that the closer we get to heaven, the things that hold us down and hold us back begin to fade? Does the bitter pettiness of earth fade as our eternal home begins to materialize before our spiritual eyes?  Perhaps the glazed unfocused eyes of the dying aren't unfocused at all; perhaps at that moment their eyes are intensely fixated on what should have been their focus all along, if life didn't get in their way and block their heavenly view that now on deaths door seems in perfect focus.

Long Shadows and Happy Feet

Sunday I went for a walk late in the afternoon when the shadows were long and the breeze was light. I didn’t have the expectations my walk usually brings. I just needed an escape and some fresh air. Saturday had been a particularly difficult day. My Aunt had spent the night at Mom’s, allowing me the opportunity to spend the night in my own bed. When I came into the house Saturday morning, she whispered to me that Momma wasn’t doing well, she wasn’t talking. I walked into Mom’s room and lay down by her. She gave me her million watt smile but didn’t try to talk. We lay facing each other for several minutes before she croaked out…. “I…. Love…. You….” I tried hard to keep smiling, but found tears broke through the dam instead. When she saw me crying, she frowned and stared beyond me to a place those who have their feet firmly planted in this world cannot see. I wondered aloud what she saw, but got no answer. As strong as I’ve tried to be, in that moment I was scared she would take her last breath before my kids got there or my brother arrived. I sat with her until they arrived and watched her eyes light up as each one walked into the room. She smiled and managed short greetings, but mainly she just stared. During the afternoon we had episodes that have become the norm for Dad and me. It was difficult for them to witness and I could see the helplessness on their faces as she struggled and as Dad and I worked to take care of her.  Saturday was a beautiful day and I sat on the porch as each one took time to say what might be their final goodbyes.  When the last guest left, I felt completely depleted and anxious about what Sunday would bring. Perhaps by divine design, Sunday was quiet, so I took the opportunity to slip away for a brief walk as she napped. As I got out of the car I was greeted by Soxy the wonder dog. She smiled at me (yes, dogs do smile) as I hit the trail. My heart wasn’t in rhythm with my feet, so my feet slowed to the rhythm of my heart. The walk was more of a meandering through the woods than a walk. I didn’t actually want to be there, I didn’t want to be anywhere, I wanted a deep hole I could bury myself in, until the world passed me by and life returned to normal. When I got to the end of the trail on my first lap, Soxy waited at the end. It has become her habit to let me make the first lap by myself, then she joins me on the others. The minute she pounced onto the trail, I smiled. There are several reasons I love having Soxy walk with me.  The main reason is because for a long time she wouldn’t walk with me. She would walk with the guys, she would walk if one of the guys walked with me and once she walked when a girlfriend walked with me, but she wouldn’t walk with me alone. It wasn’t until the bitter cold set in and I still wanted to walk, when she decided it was me or no one.  I’m okay at being the last one picked, in fact I’m quite used to it. I didn’t know for sure if she was going to join me until I felt the cold tip of her wet nose as my arms swung back with my gait. Soxy has a system to her walks. During the first part of the trail she walks at my heel, or rather on my heel. Once we reach a certain part of the trail, things become fun. She bounces and prances ahead of me then turns and waits until I catch up. She’ll look over her shoulder as if she is telling me to hurry up; she wants to check something out. Sunday she waited a lot. I love watching her explore different trails and watching her ears as she cocks her head to listen when she hears something rustling in the distance. But mainly I love to watch her prance and bounce and yes, sometimes skip. When Soxy runs ahead, regardless of how long the shadows of my day have been, Soxy and her happy feet make me smile.  In a flicker of time all of the burdens seem a little less heavy and the clouds a little less dark when Soxy says… “Let’s Go!”

Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

I watch my Dad and ask myself…. “Why didn’t I inherit that gene?!” He is meticulous, I am not, actually that should be read as… I AM NOT! And, he is the Energizer Bunny on steroids…. I AM NOT! The man never slows down…. NEVER! Whatever he does, he strives to do it better and faster than anyone. He was a manager of Safeway for years in Tulsa and the assistant manager of Homeland when they moved here. He could out check, out sack and out stock all of the employees combined. When I was growing up, he worked endless hours. Mom would occasionally take him lunch or dinner and literally stand over him in the back room to make sure he slowed down long enough to eat. The one thing I did inherit from him (besides his ADD) is his ability to inhale a meal in 2.5 seconds flat… We both will finish our meals before anyone else has their silverware unwrapped. The older I’ve gotten, the more laid back I’ve become; not him. Sunday while Mom was napping, I was just sitting around reading my Kindle and to his credit, he did try to make himself be still, he’s just an utter failure at it. Now keep in mind that I’m not blogging anything I haven’t confessed to him so hang on to your Sunday best…. He was getting on my last nerve. He fidgeted, grunted and groaned, he was in and out of the recliner so much I thought he was going to wear the gears out. I thought “Good Lord, he needs to bring it down a notch.” One morning during breakfast he mentioned he was on his 8^th, 8^th! Cup of coffee. No wonder he stays wound up. So, the other  

morning after a particularly bad night, I walked through the kitchen, picked up the Xanax bottle (I warned you to hang onto your hat), opened up his thermos and dropped it in. Every time I walked through the kitchen, I would shake the thermos so he wouldn’t see little blue flakes floating around his cup. When I left for work, I had a little smirk and thought to myself… “I’ll fix his knickers.” Ha! When I came home for lunch, he was whizzing through the house like an Oklahoma tornado. I sat by Mom’s side as we watched him fly in and out of the room. I asked Mom…. “How’s Dad been today?” She smiled that sweet little 3 year old smile she has now, and kind of cocked her head and said…. “He’s been pretty good. Why? Did you have a talk with him?” I laughed then whispered in her ear my devious action. She snickered as she promised not to tell our little secret. About that time he broke out in disjointed vocal expression in the kitchen. Mom looked at me and said… “What is that?” (she has been so funny lately). I told her it was Daddy’s attempt at singing. I called out and asked him if we needed to call EMT crew again. Trust me with my Mom and I together he hasn’t got a chance. LOL! I asked him if how much coffee he had that morning and he told me he had drank the whole thermos. Dangit! The Xanax didn’t even take the edge off his energy. I looked at Mom and told her next time I’d try two. Hey! Don’t judge me. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

My Others

In January 2000, my Father-in-law passed away from cancer. At the time, my husband and I had three children at home; both worked high stress jobs and were in the middle of kitchen demolition. At one time I remember my kitchen sink in plywood, being held up by bar stools. I could see through some of the hardwood floor that had been damaged, into the basement below. Our appliances had been moved to the living room where our Christmas tree was toppled and lay hopelessly out of reach. Every surface of our house had several coatings of plaster dust, sheetrock dust, saw dust, on top of the normal every day dust. My Father-in-law refused to allow Hospice to come, so we staggered our times between work, lunch and dinner and always remained on call if he needed anything in between our visits. Although the whole thing is a distant memory, the feeling of being on auto-pilot came back to me the other day as I fought to maintain some semblance of normalcy without much success. I thought to myself… “How on earth did we manage?” Then I remembered mechanically going through the motions day after day after day. As tough as it was, it is a time that has been locked away in a treasure chest of my soul. I’ll never regret one daily “chore”, or one harried moment of those last days. They were a gift granted by the one who hung the stars.  After his funeral, I remember wondering…. “How on earth do people get through things without a close network of friends?” Maintaining relationships is difficult. Regardless of how much you love someone, (husband, wife or friend), every relationship takes work and there are times, Like after my head injury, when I’ve had to make myself not walk away from everything and every body; It-was-so-much-work! God knows I’ve got my quirks just like everyone does (if you don’t know you’ve got quirks, you’ve probably got more than most),  but thank goodness, my friends and family stuck it out, loved me unconditionally through those time. You don’t realize how important your friends are, until you’re at the end of your rope. I believe God allows us to have dark times, not only so we’ll learn to lean on him, but also so we’ll shuck our foolish pride and allow ourselves to lean on others.  I know it may sound strange, but it hasn’t been easy to say yes to someone who wants to bring food, or help in some way. It would bother me more if I wasn’t so tired and if I didn’t know how tired Daddy is behind his smile. It’s made me be more determined to be a better friend and to get out of my comfort zone more often, because if I feel like this with such a great network of friends, I can’t imagine how someone who doesn’t have that must feel. I’m feeling pretty blessed by my Others right now, thank God I didn’t decide they were too much work!

Petal Perfect

Generally Mondays aren’t perfect, and today would be no exception. The day loomed before me with ominous dread, but I was determined to remain hopeful. When I unlocked my office door, the red tulips, laced with white I received Thursday had opened up over the weekend and greeted me with a pleasant hello. It’s hard not to muster up a smile when facing a picture perfect petal. The fact that I wasn’t in the office on Friday, thereby causing them to wilt is a moot point.

This is My Life

Thursday morning started out much like every other morning this week. I kissed Mom and Dad goodbye and headed for the office. Around 9:30 I received a call from Daddy saying that Mom had fallen. As sick as she is, she still has a stubborn streak a mile wide. She can barely walk, but turn your back for 2 seconds and she is up and running. This time her little rebel trip didn't turn out well. Exactly 1 minute and 8 seconds later I was standing in the hallway, seeing Mom positioned awkardly between the bathroom and hallway. I was frozen in place with absoluetly no idea as to what to do or how to help. Dad had called 911 and minutes later the little hallway was filled with firemen and EMT people assessing the situation. Little did I know this was the beginning of a very bad day. I answered questions, provided documents while the EMTs determined the best way to get her up and to her bed. The fall hurt, but at the time we didn't believe it had injured her beyond what she was already suffering. They finally got her back to her bed and I ushered them out of the house with much gratitude and thanks. The first order of business was to get Mom cleaned up and comfortable. I went into the kitchen to get her medication and poured me up a glass of water while I was at it. Then I went into my room to change into my caregiving clothes. I reached into my suitcase for a pair of my yoga pants and noticed a strange bitterness on my tongue. I stopped and replayed my last steps.... I had poured Mom's medicine into my hand, gotten a glass of water, but did I give Mom her medication? I poked my head around the corner and asked Dad if I had given Mom her medicine. Dad said.... "No, I just asked her if you handed it to her and she said you didn't." alrighty then, in my confusion and haste apparently I tossed back her pain and anxiety medication without realizing it! I put on my caregiving clothes, got her more medicine and began helping Dad get her settled. When she was tucked in tight and cozy, I changed clothes and went back to work where I informed both of my bosses, that I was working under the influence of medication that was not prescribed for me. Oddly enough, neither of them seemed surprised by my mishap, as they live with Jackie mishaps 5 days a week. Having a Jackie moment every now and then is the only thing that keeps our department from being a continual snooze fest. I worked through lunch with a nice peaceful feeling you get when combining pain meds with anxiety meds. I left the office @ 2 to get Mom ready to see her doctor. While trying to dress her, I quickly found that we weren't going anywhere, at least not in my car. Every time we moved her, she cried out in pain. It was hard to determine where or what the new pain was, but it made it impossible for the two of us to move her as usual. We called 911 again. As often as she falls, I assumed a team of EMTs had been assigned to our address. It just makes sense to me that there should be a frequent caller perk, but I found there isn't. Unfortunately, a shift change had taken place between call 1 and call 2, so all of the questions and information had to be asked and answered again. Small houses aren't designed for lots of EMT people and their equipment. After rearranging the house, she was put in the ambulance with me close behind. We arrived at the ER at 3:30. I may not have a lot of positive attributes, but one I do have is patience with medical workers. After working in a medical office for 9 years, I understand that medical people are human just like the rest of us. Around 6 hours later, my peaceful easy feeling, as well as my patience with all people in general had just about reached it's maximum capacity. CT scans showed no fractures, therefore the hospital had no reason to admit her into care. In spite of the fact that she could not get up, even with aide, they were going to send her home.... By ambulance! The medical staff was saved by divine intervention and the fact that I had mistakenly taken my Mom's medication; I promise, that and sheer exhaustion is the only thing that kept me from a volcanic explosion. Dad and I are trying to find our rythmn again and Monday morning I'll set about the task of tackling the medical professionals again.... Until then, this is my life.