The Last Goodbye

The last goodbye. Have you ever thought that the last time you saw someone it might be the last time you would see them? Now the reality is that this could be a possibility each day, but it is something that is too painful to dwell on. If we did, each day would break our heart. But a little over a year ago my eighty-nine year old aunt, my father's sister, flew down from Boston to see her baby brother for the last time. Their three day visit was full of childhood memories, quiet time together, and hugs goodbye. On that last day before she had to leave for the airport we went to visit Dad once again.  As she was leaving Dad hugged her, and called both her and me his sweetheart. Before she left the room she turned one last time to wave goodbye. Dad blew her a kiss. That image will be burned in my memory forever; such a sweet, simple loving act. My eyes welled with tears as we continued down the hall. She would never see him again in this earthly life. My aunt is a stoic, faithful woman who has devoted her entire life to God through the religious life. I feel certain she knows that one day she will not only be reunited with my Dad, but with all her brothers and her sister again. It takes strength to say that last goodbye and to be honest, it broke my heart to see it.

Grief

Grief. 

"Grief is a process, not a state," are the words of poet Anne Grant.

As I contemplate the death of my father I realize that I have been grieving for the last two 
years. As I battled the stages of grief, first denying anything was wrong, then finding myself angry at my Dad's reluctance to allow for help, my depression as I made my way through the many decisions that needed to be made, and now the acceptance of his passing, I am finding myself feeling a sense of relief. 

Does this mean that I am not sad, no because I am.  Does it mean that I won't miss him, no because I do.  Does it mean that I won't shed any more tears, no because I am certain I will. 

What I didn't realize during the last two years as I watched my father decline, was that he actually was giving me a gift. He gave me time to mourn the father I had always known, and time to care and love for him in his greatest hour of need. As I've worried, and cried and prayed during the last couple of years, I have also been the recipient of such kindness and love found at every turn. My father touched so many lives in his last two years, that it made me realize that even in our diminished state we still bring purpose and value to this life. 

So as we say our final goodbyes today, I'm blessed I was able to see him through to the end of his life, and be there for him just like he always was for me. 

Signs

Signs. 

My blogger pal Kathy has written several times about signs she finds along the way of her mother's presence. My sister Jean is always on the look out for cardinals, taking solice in the fact that our mother is still looking after her. 

At my Dad's passing Kathy encouraged me to be open to signs from him. I think the other day might have been one of those signs. I was upstairs making a bed when I noticed a dove sitting on the window ledge. It caught my eye, and I smiled wondering if it could be a sign from Dad?

Later in the day I was returning a library book when I was greeted by another dove standing on the sidewalk entrance to the library. Again I took a moment to enjoy the thought that it could be from Dad. Later as I thought about it I remembered how just like me, the library was one of Dad's favorite places. 

In fact, he was the one who took me to the library for the very first time, and the one who religiously let me drive on Saturday mornings to our local branch, despite the fact that I always drove over the curb on the way out. 

As I drove home a little later, what should swoop by my car, but another dove. That made three doves in one day. 

Now do I know for sure it was a sign from Dad? No, not really, but I have no proof it wasn't. Thank you Kathy for reminding me to be on the lookout, and thank you Jean for believing. 

The Kleenex Emergency

The Kleenex emergency. 

The other day when I was loading my car with groceries at Walmart I noticed a mother and her four children walking to their car. There must have been some sort of tissue emergency because she had busted open an industrial size package of Kleenex boxes. 

At least two of the children had their own box while Mom juggled the rest. Apparently the Kleenex had been their only purchase. Because their van was parked next to my car I was required to wait as she loaded up her precious cargo. 

It seemed to be taking longer than necessary when I noticed that she was fumbling with one of the boxes as she attempted to attach it to the headrest. I suppose this made it easily accessible to the backseat passengers. 

Now what I found amusing about the whole spectacle is that Kleenex has rarely been included on my own grocery list. My family lives in a Kleenex-free zone, and we have been dependent on a roll of toilet paper if our noses ever decide to run. 

I guess it must have been awfully important to make a special trip to Walmart to stock up on Kleenex ONLY. I probably would have tried to combine it with picking up aluminum foil or some other random thing. Of course with a bunch of sneezing kids it probably was worth it. 

The "Mostly" Life

The "Mostly" life.

I came across a blog the other day called The Mostly Simple Life. What I loved about the title was the word "mostly." 

You see I often get ideas that seem really great at the time, but I fail to follow through on them. Back in the mid-nineties there was a movement called Voluntary Simplicity. I was completely intrigued, and yet I wasn't exactly sure how to make my very busy life into a simpler one. 

It seemed that the proponents of the movement had made drastic changes in their lives, and that just didn't seem possible for me at the time. However, what if I didn't live a completely simple life, but rather a "mostly" simple one?

Eating healthy most of the time. Being active most of the time. Attending church most of the time. Being kind most of the time. What living this "mostly" life does is remove the guilt of not doing something which often times discourages us, and makes us give up all together. 

What steps can you take to live a "Mostly Life?"

The Vocation of Daughter

The vocation of daughter. 

My church teaches about the calling of vocation. Simply put vocation is, "a function or station in life to which one is called by God." I have found myself in the vocation of wife, mother, grandmother, sister, friend and teacher. However, my role as daughter has been front and center the last few years. 

Although I was not my father's physical caretaker, I was tasked with the responsibility of caring for his and my stepmother's affairs. At times this  required many hours of work, as well as worry as I figured out each step along the way. 

Luckily however, I was supported throughout the process by the people I met.  Prior to this experience I was reluctant to ask for help, but I soon learned about the kindness of strangers. Time and time again my aching heart was comforted by others who seemed to be placed along my path. I never took a step alone. 

As we cleaned out Dad's room the other day I realized that my time as daughter was over. Beyond taking care of his estate I will no longer be needed in this role. Although, in many ways I feel as if a weight has been lifted, I also am so grateful that I was given the privledge of being there for him. 

"Do You Know Shari?"

"Do you know Shari?"

My sweet father passed away last week. I will miss him dearly. Two weeks ago, though, I received a gift from him that I will always cherish. I was visiting him, and when I said, "Hi Dad," he said to his neighbor, "Do you know Shari?"

Now this may seem unremarkable, except that I couldn't remember the last time he had actually said my name. Although, I always felt that he recognized me, the dementia had robbed his ability to remember names. 

In fact, a few months before he introduced me as one of his many daughters. I was quite pleased with that remark. Often times, those first few words would be the only ones that made sense. Dementia can make your ability to communicate a struggle.  

As much as I had tried to prepare myself for the enevitable, I was only kidding myself. How do you say goodbye to the man who has been your father for sixty years? 

It was a privledge to be his daughter, and a privledge to care for him in his latter years. I hope to pass along his legacy. 

I love you Dad!

Enough

Enough. 

Have you ever wondered about what is enough? Enough possessions, enough dessert, enough shoes or books, or maybe even enough of enough?

Technically enough is defined as, "as much or as many as required." I find the word 
"required" interesting, though.  Are enough clothes enough to get you through the week? Is enough food enough not to leave you hungry? Does a collector ever truly reach enough, as there is always one more thing to add to her collection. 

A couple of years ago I set the goal to become debt free. I budgeted religiously and learned how to coupon shop. However, through the whole process I found myself always wanting more. Kind of like being on a diet. My solution was thrift stores and garage sales. Shopping became a combination game and treasure hunt. For just pennies on the dollar I continued to bring more stuff into my home. 

It wasn't until a few months ago when Chuck and I took on the task of decluttering that the sheer magnitude of my possessions became apparent. I found myself ashamed that I owned so much. "Enough" was not in my vocabulary. 

What I've learned today is that there really is very little that I want or need. I have found myself to be content beyond my possessions, and am still finding ways to let go of what I own. I basically replace anything that is broken or purchase whatever is needed. Ironically because I spend less on things I don't need I actually have more to spend on what we do need. 

Through this experience I have finally discovered what is "enough" for me. 

"There are two ways to get enough. One is to accumulate more and more. The other is to desire less."

G.K. Chesterton

Fragile

Fragile. 

Sometimes we convince ourselves that we are strong, and can handle whatever comes our way. Except if the truth be told it is not really true. At our core we are really quite fragile. 

Given the right news or the right set of circumstances we can find that strength slipping away. We may find tears flowing freely as we wipe them  away in embarrassment trying to hide our real feelings.

Our hearts can be so tender, and our daily walk so precarious that one slight bobble can reveal our fragile selves. Recently I was faced with some news, and I was surprised at how I reacted. 

I had convinced myself of my strength, but found myself to be more fragile than I realized. It was then I was reminded how much we depend on each other, and when someone is no longer there it does make a difference. 

As I contemplated these feelings it became apparent that our capacity to love, and to hurt is actually more important than some self-imposed need to be strong. 

The Couch

The couch. 

When Chuck and I were married almost thirty-two years ago he brought into the marriage a yellow and brown plaid couch. When we moved to our first house we quickly purchased a new couch. 

It was a soft, brown upholstered beauty, and we wasted no time in inviting Chuck's mom and aunt over to show it off. Now Chuck's Aunt Maxine was no spring chick, and I remember her making a comment about how low to the ground the couch was as she struggled to get up. Chuck and I were clueless about what she was talking about. Our twenty something bodies didn't seem to have any trouble at all. 

Over the years the couch made its way from home to home. It stayed up late with me during midnight feedings, and was just the right height for our geriatric Bassett Hound to maneuver. Eventually, in our last house it found its home in our game room. 

Now that I'm more of an autumn chick I've come to realize what Aunt Maxine was talking about. That darn couch is so low to the ground it requires some real effort to lift yourself up to a standing position. It's kind of funny how given enough time, everything seems to come full circle. 

Now that we're moving to a smaller home I'm afraid our days with the couch are numbered. It hasn't made the cut and it won't be coming along for the journey. However, I still can't help but laugh when I remember the words of Aunt Maxine. 

Daffodils

Daffodils. 

A friend of mine posted the lovely picture of daffodils you see in today's posting. Daffodils always remind me of my mother. 

She had a true love of gardening. One spring she decided that it was time for her to have the garden of her dreams. She put all of her kids to work weeding, and she planted some beautiful flowers. Our backyard was a sight to behold. 

Reluctantly I went along with her gardening dreams tolerating the dirt beneath my fingernails. I had not inherited her love of gardening as I was more my father's daughter, and much preferred to be reading than planting. 

One fall Mom planted some daffodil bulbs, and took great pleasure in watching them bloom the next spring. As life sometimes does it takes a different turn from what we have planned. She never saw those daffodils bloom again because her life was cut short within the year. 

However, those daffodils did bloom again, and presented us with a beautiful reminder of our mother a few months after her death. I've learned from her untimely passing not to take things for granted, and to enjoy the simple blessings of life. Each year when those first daffodils bloom I can't help but be reminded of Mom. 

A Boy and His Dog

A boy and his dog. 

What is it about boys and their dogs? Our little guy has gotten old enough to take a real interest in the smaller of the two family dogs. Her name is Ellie and she has been a real trooper when it comes to all the patting and hugging. 

Recently with the warmer weather it's been a good opportunity for both of them to get out of the house and into the backyard. My grandson is just beginning to figure out the whole "how to play ball with the dog" thing. 

Now normally Ellie is quite stingy when it comes to her ball, and rarely willing gives it up. But when it comes to the little one it's a different story. My daughter reports that Ellie will actually bring the ball to my grandson and drop it, allowing him to pick it up. 

Now he doesn't quite have the whole throwing thing down yet, but he will eventually drop it allowing Ellie to continue the game. I'm quite taken by this sweet dog who seems to be forging a bond between her and her boy. I think they have plenty of adventures ahead of them. 

Caretakers

Caretakers. 

If you have a loved one in the care of others you might find yourself becoming very attached to their caretakers. In many ways they become a part of your extended family. Especially if it becomes apparent that they have a deep fondness for your loved one. 

My Dad has had the good fortune to have been cared for by a very special activity director at his Memory Care facility. Time and time again she has gone over and above to make Dad's experience there a positive one. She was responsible for a beautiful tribute to his life which included getting him to proudly wear his Army uniform again. My Dad just lit up that day and we had a small glimpse of the Dad we used to know. 

She was always faithful to text me special pictures of Dad whenever he was on an outing. She would greet me with a smile and a hug, and would refer to Dad as "Boss."

I found out this week that she had accepted a position at a different facility, and I found myself with a lump in my throat. Over the last two years I have seen people come and go and I suppose this  may go with the territory, but it doesn't make it any easier. 

I always try to thank those who care for Dad and let them know how much I appreciate them. It takes a special person to work with the elderly, and we feel very blessed that Dad's life has been touched by so many. 

Childhood Friends

Childhood friends. 

Most of my high school friends have known each other since elementary school. For those of us who grew up as military brats, though, we generally don't have the same experience. 

Luckily for me I was able to reconnect with my childhood best friend, Ann Marie, and had the pleasure of getting to spend this past weekend with her. We were able to reunite several years ago due to my Nancy Drew detective skills and the internet. 

This past weekend Ann Marie's work brought her to Austin from Ohio, and she invited me to meet her half way in Waco. Our mutual admiration for Chip and Joanna made the Magnolia Market the perfect meeting place. 

What I love about our friendship is that it's as if we never skipped a beat, let alone a forty year old beat, and we seem to always pick up right where we left off. Apparently our childhood friendship was much deeper than just our geographical location as next door neighbors.

Along with the Magnolia Market we enjoyed a sweet treat from their bakery, some delicious Texas BBQ and Mexican food, an inspiring 1960's movie Hidden Figures, and a trip to Spice Village. 

Although, our lives ended up taking a different path they seem to be right back on track today as we both experience being a grandmother with our precious one year old grandsons. Ann Marie's future is getting ready to change, and I'm looking forward to getting to visit her in her new home in the Sunshine State. Which incidentally was our childhood home, and I anticipate retracing our childhood steps very soon. 

Perspective.

Perspective.  

Sometimes it's easy to get overwhelmed, especially when you are making changes in your life. The other night I found myself all consumed with everything that hadn't been done, and everything that needed to be done. My head was pounding and I couldn't sleep. 

The next morning I found out that a friend of mine had suffered a pretty serious injury, and was in for a long recovery period. My "so called worries" seemed to pale next to her real world worries.  Unlike her, I was healthy and injury free. 

Although, I had a lot on my plate it could all be accomplished through time and effort. Instead of losing sleep each night I needed to just roll up my sleeves and get going. There was an end in sight and I didn't need to lose sight of that. 

It's easy to become all consumed with what is  going on in your own life, but count your blessings if you have your health. 

Think

Think.

In today's world it seems we've become emboldened to express our opinions. Maybe the buffer zone of social media makes it easier to do? Having to say things face to face is always more difficult as the risk of anger or rejection come into play. 

The other day I came across the following guidelines for social media:

Think

Is it True?

Is it Helpful?

Is it Inspiring?

Is it Necessary?

Is it Kind?

I think the hardest part for me is the is it necessary component. I seem to have an opinion on everything, but is it necessary to share it at will? I don't think that you should shirk from sharing your thoughts when asked, but it is not necessary to respond to everything. 

Another consideration is the format in which you express your thoughts. Sometimes the best way to go is through a personal message as opposed to a public one. The next time you are ready to post or respond you might want to THINK before you press reply. 

The Apartment

The apartment. 

With the passing of Mary Tyler Moore last week I couldn't help but be reminded of her dreamy apartment. As a young girl I naturally assumed that just like having a body like Barbie, I would also one day have a really cool apartment like Mary. 

I remember in high school designing my dream apartment for a class project. I spent many hours lovingly cutting out magazine pictures as I carefully made each decision. I chose the same yellow and green color palette that Mary's apartment sported. I was quite pleased with the end results. 

Several years later when I began my teaching career I moved into my first apartment with my best friend. Our excitement could not be overshadowed by the fact that our furniture choices were few. Our childhood bedroom sets found their new home there, along with bean bag chairs and a borrowed kitchen table. One of her co-workers taking pity on us offered an upholstered chair she no longer needed and we gladly scooped it up rotating who got to sit there. 

Eventually, we were able to move up to a living room suite, a lamp and our own kitchen table. Although simple, our apartment did have a charm of its own, even though it wasn't quite as sophisticated as Mary's.  What I did learn, though, was that just because you dreamed about something didn't mean you always had the financial means to make that dream come true. 

It's easy when you are young to just assume that things will work out the way you imagined. My meager beginning teacher salary was a reality, but I also learn that there wasn't just one road to happiness. My best friend and I grew to love that apartment, and still enjoy reminiscing about the memories we shared there. 

One or the Other

One or the other?

The other day my daughter sent me another video of my precious grandson. It seems that I can't get enough of them, and put in requests quite frequently. 

In this particular one he was petting their miniature Aussie Ellie. He was actually doing a great job of gently patting her, and then leaned in for a hug. Along the way you can hear my daughter encouraging him, and praising him for his efforts. 

Right when he went in for that hug a popular song began playing in the background, and he immediately sat back up and began bouncing along to its catchy tune. The lure of the siren song was just too great. 

He loved his dog, but it appeared he loved the music more. Ellie would have to wait for that hug. Sometimes a boy's gotta do what a boy's gotta to do. 

Aspire for More

Aspire for more. 

If I were to give advice to young girls today, I would say aspire for more. As a young girl I aspired to be a lawyer just like my television hero Perry Mason. I was quite enthralled by his courtroom antics, and how he always brought the criminal to justice. I think this may have been where my love affair with following the rules began. Wait that might have been Gallant in the Highlight magazines I used to read at the dentist!

However, the more I thought about it the more I began to realize that I probably wasn't smart enough to be a lawyer. It was at that moment that I first settled by admitting that maybe being Perry's secretary Della Street was more up my alley. Now there was nothing wrong with Della, and believe you me she was one sharp assistant who helped Perry win all those cases. It's just that I really wanted to be the lawyer, but I just wouldn't allow myself to consider it. 

I'm not sure if I would have really enjoyed practicing law. In a lot of ways I spent a life time enforcing the law in my classroom, but who really knows? What I do know today is that I was more than smart enough to have pretty much tackled whatever I wanted, but I just didn't see myself in that light.  

Of course, it was the mid-sixties and women were just beginning to spread their wings in what was once considered male dominated careers. I don't ever remember having anyone ever encourage me to follow a dream, let alone have a dream. I felt it only fitting to write about this in the wake of the passing of Barbara Hale who played the beloved Della Street. 

So my advice is never to sell yourself short, because you never really know unless you try.