Random Thoughts

This is going to be sung on Tuesday at my dad's funeral. It is one of my all time favorite songs. Just found this video. Love it. Enjoy. May your cup runneth over, Merry ME

For Saturday, January 29, 2011 cacoethes \kak-oh-EE-theez\, noun : An irresistible urge; mania. My genetic cacoethes to run far away has kicked in. Lacing up my shoes. Not sure what direction to go. Anywhere but here. not so merry me

When I peek my eyes open in the morning to see if it's a new day, I instantly become aware of no sounds from across the hall for the entire night. Then I remember. It all happens in a second's time but sets the tone of the day. Oh yeh, now I remember. My father is gone. And with him all my excuses for why the things around me are in such a state of disarray. I want to be up and moving, cleaning, organizing, getting things - anything - done. I roll over and go back to sleep. I know. I know. There are no shoulds. Give it time. This is grief. LaLaLaLa What do I do now that the focus of my life is no longer around? Where do I look for me? If I go into his room and tear it all apart, go through drawers and move furniture, give stuff to the Goodwill and load a trash truck with the crap that's left over, will I feel better? Or should I turn the pile of papers on his desk into a shrine? I could spray paint it gold and add some incense. A dove sits on the telephone pole outside my w...

And just like that, it's over. It's kind of like waiting for Christmas to come if you're a kid. Once all the presents are opened and colored paper covers the floor and you discover Santa forgot to put batteries in your stocking there is a natural melt down period. Nobody can keep that state of excitement for long. Or if you're the mom, aka one of Santa's elves, after all the shopping, wrapping, and assembling, there is still the colored paper all over the floor to clean up and a festive dinner to prepare. It's not that the waiting was awful (though it can be hard work) or the object of the waiting not what you expected. It's just that when it happens it sort of feels like "okay, that's done, now what's next." Well, for me, the what next is a funeral, the sorting, the cleaning, the packing up, the giving away, the busy-ness of the days to come so I don't have to think about life as I've known it for 15 years. I know there is griev...

"To bring the sublime into the mundane is the greatest challenge there is." Pir vilayat Inayat Khan I lie in the cot beside his bed and listening to my dad - grateful for the rhythmic breathing. He was restless this morning with some bouts of apnea. A couple of times I had to sit up to see over the bed rail and check the movement of his chest. I figured out a way I could hold his hand through the bar. I wanted to crawl into bed with him. I wanted to hold his head in my lap and rock him. I decided it was better to let him find whatever comfort he could in the bed by himself as I'm just not sure there is enough room for both of us. Didn't know how I'd explain to the nurse that I dropped my father on the floor. A great doctor came by today. She put dad on a morphine pump so he gets medicated on a more equal basis over the course of 24 hours - no ups and downs as the meds are injected. I think this was a good plan. He's been very comfortable. I've been think...

Disclaimer: I haven't had much to say lately that didn't involve my dad's dying somehow. I guess this is as good a place to journal the journey as any. If you think it's too depressing it's okay to move on to another fun blog and maybe come back later. Have you been to 1000 Awesome things ? It's, um ... awesome. My fear of Dad coming down with the pneumonia bug was not unwarranted. As I began to recover his throat started hurting. Followed by a cough, which was followed by a chest wracking, wheezing that was hard to stop. Things began to go downhill from there. Dad hasn't eaten anything of substance since Friday. He takes in very little liquid. He continues to pee with surprising regularity. He's also been quite restless though not in an excessive amount of pain. It all makes for long days and nights for both Dad and I. Since Dad is the one whose body is shutting down I dare not make this about me. But it's really the only point of view I have. As a ...

"Dying is one thing. Knowing you're dying and having to sit there and wait on it is another. And having to sit there and watch someone who's having to sit there and wait on it is yet another."* Charles Martin I just discovered this local author. He writes a pretty good story. This quote said what I've thought of saying but couldn't find the words. My Boy Cat has been spending a lot of time with me next to Dad's bed. He's no Oscar the Cat of nursing home fame, but this morning he wouldn't let us alone. Do you think he knew Dad and I were having trouble communicating so he just plopped himself down so we could both pet him while he purred the purr of quiet contentment? Whether he knew or not, it worked. May you be calmed by the warmth of a four-footed friend, Merry ME *Where the River Ends, Broadway Books, NY, P. 310