It's just been a day is all.
take care,
It's been a year now. So much has happened in these last twelve months. I still remember the last time I saw you, at my work. You had no idea the hell I was going through. I still feel bad I didn't call, I just couldn't. There was so much on my plate I just couldn't add more to it. More not fun stuff. Not fun stuff that began within weeks of August 20. First the unexpected most terrifying trip to the ER. Then struggling to find the care needed and get things going in the right direction.
Then a few months into that ordeal and figuring things out, the fall. The fall that lead to the extended stay, not knowing if a return home would happen. That's when I saw you for the last time, right in the middle of all that. When I needed support the most, when I needed someone to say it'll be ok, it'll work out. I did have help, just not the arms around me to support me. It wasn't fun.
I still miss chatting though, telling stories, making jokes. I saw your words, a definite dig at me. I wonder if you saw mine? I still care, I think I always will. I do truly hope there is less to complain about in this world. I really wish we could be friends. Maybe enough time has passed and we can or maybe not. I don't know.
take care,
I have so much on my mind. There is a jumble of thoughts, so many memories, flash backs. I can't put my thoughts into coherent sentences. I am so tired. I've been visiting the place again, I'm not making any of the decisions, but watching all the choices unfold, the letters and wrist bands dnr cloud my mind. A heavy heart. It's been 8 years, precisely 2,945 days. I'm listening to stories, asking questions to encourage those stories she wants to share.
I miss you handsome man. There is just so much I want to get out, but don't have the energy.
take care,
An always, within never
Barbery
I just finished "The Elegance of the Hedgehog" it was a novel you enjoyed. I started it many years ago and just couldn't get past the opening. I stuck with it this time and it was just brilliant. It had a perfect ending. I am a very tough book critic, if you can end a book well that's top notch in my mind. Ms. Barbery did just that, it literally brought tears to my eyes, I'm still feeling the book in my chest and taking it all in. I so wish I could share this with you, to talk about the work of art in words, words written and then spoken. I miss you so much. I crave someone to talk to about this kind of stuff. Kinda like Les Misérables, but that night I did have someone to share with, that was so nice. To connect with someone over art and life in art.
My always within never, could that be you, perhaps. May those moments come and let me be open to them.
I miss you handsome man.
take care
This really helped. Sometimes I feel like I use "self care" as an excuse, but when I think about it really has been a very difficult start to 2023. Honestly, since last fall it's been tough. Unexpected trip to the ER for the unexpected member. Trying to get all the support and care needed for your princess. Then the first week of the year and the hospital stay that lasted four weeks. Here we are about ready to start month 3 and things are still a bit unsettling. There has been definite improvement, but I'm struggling to keep the balance. I went back to work today after three weeks. More uncertainty on that front as well. I'm trying to remember
God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change.
The courage to change the things I can,
And the Wisdom to know the difference.
I've been thinking about him alot lately. I realized that I have not had time to ponder that it's over. To let it settle. It's been six months now and I think things are as stable as they can be for the time being. Now I have time, it will crowd my mind I'm sure. I'm so very tired.
I will stop for now.
take care
I was scared when I drove over there tonight, leaving my house after no answer on the phone, or the AI device, and no call back when you see the missed call. I left calmly, I didn't want to scare her. Memories of running up the stairs 21 years ago to find my Gram filled my mind as I waited at the light.
I learned today is National Caregivers Day I didn't know that was a thing, I guess there's a day for everything.
You made someone smile today. My Dad had a roommate these last 3 days, RS. As I type those initials my heart flutters because they are the same as yours. I digress... Thursday as I was there with my Dad, the roomie had some cereal sent up from food services, he asked for sugar and the deliverer of cereal said "sorry there wasn't any on the tray and to call his nurse" he apologized and left. My Dad was asleep, and being all too familiar with hospitals I know they have a "nourishment" room where we can fill water cups and find various snacks and condiments. I told him I would get him some sugar and asked if he wanted one or two packets, he replied "bring me 3" I went down the hall and procured said request. My health care provider brain went to work right away, as I walked down the hall and hoped he wasn't diabetic. I do recall an overheard conversation, his team discussing a concern of his lack of eating, I promise I wasn't eavesdropping, my hearing is good and those curtains are thin. In short my concern of his glucose monitoring status was allayed. He was grateful upon my return with the 3 packets. I was able to gather more information about the RS who is still living among us, he's been in the hospital for quite some time, there is a difficulty finding him a rehab location for discharge. The tone was that he's been in that room for weeks, and maybe months. My heart went out to him. I spend the day with my Dad, well the school day anyway, after I dropped off your princess (still so crazy to use that title here, sometime I wonder what you would call her now, or if she would be a different individual if you had remained with us on this planet - enough Javier Marìas) and stayed with my Dad until I needed to go and pick her up. All those hours RS did not have any visitors.
When you resided in the hospital the last weeks of your life, I made sure you were never alone. I so wanted to stay the nights with you, but couldn't because your Princess needed me at home. The one time I stayed the night, (that was the day of the 8 hour procedure, you were in so much pain) and she was home with AS, I just couldn't do it again, she was so sad and scared I wasn't there, I had to do what was best for her, you knew that and wanted the same. I made sure there was always someone there with you. AS spending the nights with you, her career as a nurse was so very helpful at that time. You never wanted your princess to see you in pain or in agony. I remember one occasion when the pain was so bad it was just you and me, you asked me to read to you. Ancient literature, poetry I used my phone and the power of the internet, and the help of super K from 3,000 miles away sending me texts to read. Catullus, Neruda, Bollaño. When we were in our twenties, before we shared a last name, we would talk into the night, our fears, hopes, dreams, how to solve the world's problems and make jokes about our shortcomings. I remember your fear, it was not a fear of death, you had a fear of being alone. If that wasn't a Marìas I don't know what is.
Meanwhile back to the roomie. Today I was there with my Dad and those dang thin curtains I could hear a request from RS to his nurse, he wanted biscuits and gravy. He's been craving them for weeks. She said sometimes she could bring something from the cafeteria if she was down there. She asked if he was sure they had them today and asked if he had any money for them. She said she would try to get them when she was downstairs. He was sure they had them, he was waiting for a friend to bring some money, but they would only be available during breakfast hours. She apologized and said she'd do what she could. My Dad was nodding on and off to sleep. I asked him if he wanted anything from the cafeteria, he said no, I mentioned I could use a cup of coffee and went down stairs. I made it to the cafeteria and found the right counter for biscuits and gravy. The lady in front of me was also ordering biscuits and gravy, I asked if that was for the patient on the xx floor. It was, his nurse went down to quench his craving. I smiled with my eyes, (facial expressions are trickier in these pandemic times) and said I was there for the same purpose. I told her I would get it and bring it up. I think we both marveled in the other's caring and kindness.
Back up the elevator, styrofoam container of biscuits & gravy in one hand and coffee in the other I walked the square hallway back to the room. I gave RS the package with a fork and napkin and told him I brought biscuits and gravy. He was grateful and ready to dig in. My Dad was SOUND ASLEEP, like full on dream mode, rhythmic breathing, kinda snoring asleep. After a few minutes and a "thank you" for the roomie, I pulled the chair over to the curtain where I could keep on eye on my Dad's shoulder gently moving to his sleep rhythm as he lay on his side and sit where the curtain ended and I could see RS. I asked him where is he was from, "Louisiana" and then of course my obligatory response, what brought you here. His story started to unfold, much like the chair I brought over to sit and visit with this man who craved non-medical human interaction almost as much as the biscuits and gravy. He told me he is Stage IV, something part of my own story, and his family in Louisiana had all passed away, he moved up here because a friend talked him into it, she wouldn't let him die alone. More and more pieces of my own story flooded my mind and memory, pieces I kept to myself, he needed to talk, he needed to share. I kept the conversation going and suggested he probably had better biscuits and gravy in Louisiana. He replied he can make better. He was pretty tired I could tell, but he wanted to visit and talk. His eyes were closed, but his mind and lips kept going, waiting to converse. I asked if he liked to cook. He loves it. He grew up on his own and learned how to cook, he would find a recipe and the next time he made it he would add something different. He smiled when he told me he wasted a lot of food when he was young. His culinary skills improved as he continued to cook and experiment with recipes. He even started to give me tips, next time I entertained I should serve sherbet between courses, adding boiled eggs to greens I smiled and nodded, I didn't have the heart to tell him cooking is not my passion. He said something, food for thought if you will, something along the lines of ... In life you gotta try new things, even if they don't really go together, you never know after you try it you might think I've been missing out. His eyes were still closed as he spoke about his youth and his kitchen endeavors. He mentioned he likes sushi. I piped up and said I like sushi too. I told him 'the story', you know ... "the first time my husband and I had sushi (I didn't say late husband like usual, I didn't want him to feel bad. I usually only say late husband to avoid awkwardness later when they want to know more about him, I can't blame them he was a fascinating man & I would talk your head off all about him) anyway, "the first time my husband & I had sushi at a restaurant we were sitting there and my husband noticed the little clump of wasabi and he popped the whole thing in his mouth thinking it was an avocado" RS popped open his eyes and looked at me with a shock and a bit of a grin on his face. "Oh weee," he cried. You still got it my love, making people laugh and smile. We chatted for a few more minutes about cajun food, whataburger, and waffle house. The doctor came in, luckily it was for my Dad, allowing my friend to drift off to sleep after a non-medical conversation, hopefully he dreamt of sushi, cajun spices, and wasabi.
I could write more about how he wanted to go outside, reminding me of your trips to radiation therapy via ambulance and your absolute gratitude when the driver asked if you wanted to go the long way around the building to get some extra time in the sunshine and fresh air. I so wish there was more I could do for the roomie, we said our goodbyes today as my Dad was sent home and RS told my Dad to "do what they say" then looked at me and said "and you make sure he does"
take care my love.
Every day. Today. Not to toot my own horn, but I think I did a good job on the big birthday today. It really was two days. I've also been there for my Dad and kept things balanced as best I could. I miss you. Every moment of happiness, achievement, every milestone achieved will always have a smattering of sadness, something missing. I miss you so much. I miss being loved by you, that feeling of knowing I was loved no matter what.
I looked for it again, but I was mistaken. So much has happened in these last six months.
You couldn't be bothered to be here when I got back. Not only did you disrespect my wishes and let him roam free, but you couldn't be bothered to be here. If I were important to you, you would have been here because you wanted to.
It's better this way. I still look. I still notice all the cars, without the monkey, still makes me think of you. These last six months have not be easy or fun, but I'm still here and I'd like to think my efforts have made things, if not better at least bearable. I crave being hugged, to know that no matter what it'll be ok. I miss the "we'll figure it out" and I'm tired of figuring it out on my own. I miss my cheering section telling me how smart and beautiful I was.
take care,
