Tuesday, November 8, 2011

What would it say?

If only this trunk could talk!

Now that mother is gone and dad is occupying just a few rooms of the house they lived in for almost 60 years, he is encouraging us to take things that he isn't using. We are attempting to empty the second floor of the house which has largely served as a gigantic store room for them the past 40 years. This is a huge project; there is a lot of junk to be hauled away. They have the largest collection of empty boxes I have ever seen -probably spanning 25 years of purchases and gifts. And enough empty ice cream pails to...I'm not sure what.

But there are pleasant surprises too. I opened a desk drawer to find stacks of artwork done by their six grandchildren during their childhood years, many of the drawings done at the kitchen table during family visits. Another drawer held stacks of cards and letters marking holidays and special occasions through the years - mostly from family members and many from mother's special friends, most of whom have preceded her in death in recent years. Mother and dad didn't travel far from home but she kept every postcard they received from their children and grandchildren who are well-travelled and were dutiful in sharing these experiences.

I found old newspaper clippings about my mother's success on the golf course in the 70s and 80s and her contributions to the community as the supervisor of an all-volunteer gift store for many years. I realize now, that busy raising my own family, I was unaware how rich and full my parents' lives were. During those years, mother and I lost some of the closeness we had shared during my first 30 years and our visits and phone conversations were less frequent. I found momentos from trips they took during that time that I can't even recall. I discovered bags of yarn and several half finished knitting and crochet projects but I don't remember seeing my mother ever do either. Was the "disconnect" as big as it now seems? And I wonder if the same thing will happen to me and my daughters as we enter the same time period in our life experience.

It would please my mother to know that N now has one of the trunks that has sat for years in the upstairs closet. I recall that this trunk, and it's companion were always slightly mysterious to me, and it was an occasion of awe when mother opened them to deposit or remove some special item. I was my childhood self last month when I lifted the heavy lid and carefully removed things I hadn't seen or touched in more than 30 years. I found a blue knit suit she last wore in the 50's, and the First Communion suit worn by my brothers almost 60 years ago. There I found a blue and a pink baby blanket, and at the very bottom a small box containing the top piece from their wedding cake - a little soldier with his bride, a testimony to their end of World War II wedding in 1944. Reaching the very bottom, the 1954 newspaper lining crumbled at my touch.

I know these trunks have been in my parent's home for all their married life, 67 years but clearly they are older even. Where did they come from and where have they been? I know my grandparents lived in South Dakota in the early part of the 1900s and I suspect these trunks traveled with them those years. How I wish now that I had asked my mother what she knew about the trunks! And if only the trunks could talk!

Sunday, September 25, 2011

No Regrets

Well maybe a few.  Awhile back my mother told me when we were talking about her long life that she had never eaten  lobster.  She didn't say it in a way that made me think lobster was on her bucket list but now that she is gone I am wishing I had taken her out for lobster dinner, or at least brought frozen lobster tails to her house.  I have these cute little red ceramic butter warmers which she would have thought nifty, and I think she would have been amused by wearing a lobster bib. And I'm sure she would have loved the buttery sweetness of lobster.

I'll always be sad that my brothers and I had no choice about moving her and dad to an assisted living apartment for her final months. The level of care she needed exhausted dad and severely strained their relationship. Even though their generations greatest fear is "ending up" in a nursing home,  coupled with not dying at home, that's what happened after all. I'll wonder for a long time if that could have been different. But no regrets - we made the best decision we could, presented with the facts at that time.

I do regret that my mother didn't get to see her house somewhat restored to the way it was before her deep decline.  When I was growing up it was a weekly ritual for mother and me to clean the house, dusting every surface in every room, vacuuming, washing floors etc. A clean house was an absolute. But as her health failed, she couldn't keep up and it was a huge disappointment to her that the house wasn't clean to her standards. But now,after a few days attention from M and me, All the clutter is gone and drawers, closets and kitchen are cleaned and reorganized in preparation for dad's move back.  I thought so many times about doing this while she still lived there but I was always concerned that she might find my actions judgmental That things weren't "good enough" - that my taking this over might make her feel even more diminished.  I can see now that I was slowly becoming the parent these past years, and they the children.  - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Honoring Choices

I woke in the night to shades rattling and a cold breeze coming in the open window and now I see the temp dipped to the 50s in the night. Such a contrast to a few days ago. But I guess I am ready!  It certainly evokes the memory of school supplies, and  the washing, ironing and labeling of new uniform blouses.

I can't say that there is much I will miss about this summer - not like last year when I spent day after joyous day holding the newborn Benj.  Just yesterday I was in a store and heard Coldplay coming from their sound system and I was at once rocking Benj and recalling the sights and even the baby smells of his room.  All along I knew how special that summer was  - to  have all that time to be with J and N and our first grandchild.

Of course what we have experienced this summer is a deep contrast - life vs death. That's the hardest part of dealing with this situation with mom and dad.  I kept my expectations low when we moved them to the assisted loving apartment in July but  not low enough.  I keep telling myself no matter what has happened, they are better off than they were in the house but some days I am not so sure.

I had so hoped they would thrive in the new place - clean, uncluttered , 3 tasty meals each day, served to them in a dining room with friendly faces of people they have known for years, or new faces of people with whom they have so much in common.  I had hoped dad would get the relief he so desperately needs from the stress of being mom's longtime caregiver.  I thought perhaps she would feel safer, protected by trained staff who know what she needs and how to deliver it.  With each new crisis we have stepped in to provide even more help - with their oxygen, their medications, doctors appointments, food, clothing, separation from each other, no request has been denied.  Except their main one - " why can't we just go home."

Why indeed, when we have seen nothing that would indicate they could possibly survive at home.  On my good days I can stay the course with the help and encouragement of my brothers and our spouses.  This is what good and caring children do for their aging parents - keep them safe and cared for by people who know what they are doing.  On the tough days, like today when mother was moved to the nursing home portion of the complex, and she looked me in the eye and said "I never thought YOU would do this to me" I'm not so sure.

I wrote some time ago about choices and how my parents didn't seem to understand how to make choices, or even that they had choices.  So we made choices for them and now they don't understand and they are hurt and angry.  My brothers and I see what is going on as a very real choice between life and death, especially for her.  And maybe by continuing to insist that they just want to go home they are actually trying to make that choice.  We talk a lot about "honoring choices" with regards to end of life issues - maybe, just maybe there will come a day when this is  the choice we will need to honor, no matter what we think.
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- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Friday, July 15, 2011

It is not how old you are, but how you are old. ~ Marie Dressler ~

J asked me tonight, "what does it mean, to grow old together?" I'm not sure it's a question I can easily answer. I don' t know what it will be like for us to grow old together but I do know what I don't want it to be like.

We've been thinking a alot about old age as we work to move my parents into an assisted living apartment, a process I began with my brothers about 3 years ago. Mother has suffered with chronic pain for a number of years and dad has been her caregiver, gradually taking over responsibility for all household tasks - cooking, cleaning, shopping, etc. When it became obvious that he too needed help, we managed to convince them to accept assistance with cleaning and some personal care. Continuing declines in their health made it clear that the independence we all have admired at their advanced age, was now a threat to their health and safety. The once tidy and organized home we grew up in became unrecognizable - they seemed overwhelmed by the clutter and the growing stacks of "stuff" that accumulated everywhere. Mother's chronic pain caused intermittent bouts of depression - or maybe her social isolation caused the depression - and that intensified the chronic pain. Dad became frustrated with his inability to make things better for her, despite his best efforts. They began a downward spiral that left them both metaphorically tangled in the yards and yards of tubing from 2 oxygen machines that seemed to hiss at them constantly.

That's what I don't want it to be like.

I never want my children to see their childhood home like that. I promise to pay attention and when I can' t maintain this house, I will move to a place I can manage. I promise to start NOW ( and we already have) to free ourselves from "stuff." I will clean my closets annually and pass on clothes that I am not wearing. I will stock my cupboards and refrigerator with foodstuffs that are only fresh and current. Same with the freezer.

If I don't use it, I will lose it. I am talking about lamps and vases, small appliances and dishes, picture frames fake flower arrangements. I will never ever stack a room full of empty boxes! I promise!

Our health care directives are up to date, even as we struggle to talk to them about these matters they now find overwhelming and, in dad's case, unnecessary.

None of this is to say, between the lines, that I love my parents any less for the chaos they have brought to their lives and ours these past years. In fact I can thank them for showing us how not to grow old. And that's a lesson you can't learn from experience because you don't get a second chance to apply the knowledge.