Tag Archive | Mom

Some Days Are Stone

My mother loved John Denver. When she was in the midst of a depressive episode and there were many she would hijack my turntable and play this guys music off the walls. Today is her birthday. Like her favorite song today has been diamonds and stones. My hubby just lost a favorite auntie a few days ago to an illness, my Mom’s Birthday is today and the anniversary of her passing is on the 11th. What a way to roll in, JUNE! I want you to know you are loved and missed. Your kid sister wears you next to her heart everyday in the form of a little butterfly mizpah to honor her love for you. I know she misses your stories and your wisdom. The lottery hasn’t been the same since you left, revenue is down = )

zzz

My birthday wish for you; I hope you truly know happiness, that you enjoy the peace, and that you found Dad when he checked in. He missed you SO much. He loved you with his whole being.

P.S. I ate your piece of cake 8 )

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The Hands Of Time

Time speeds by. It’s true nature is to keeping on ticking. You can’t get back lost time. You can’t jump into the future or to the past. Even though you can finds ways to save time; it won’t be in a bottle so you can use it at the end of eternity. Time is the great evader, just when you think you have enough you are all out of it. You can free up time but we usually waste what little of it we have. Life speeds by. Once I was a little girl, feels like yesterday. I can recall a time when I was just starting to feel like a grownup. Now I am on the precipice to middle age? How did that happen? Youth made me wish away my life so I would be old enough to drive, to go to college, to be an adult. What???? I thought, if only I were an adult, I would be Okay. I could do whatever I want, whenever I want, anytime I want. I kind of miss the foolishness and immaturity of youth {{{sigh}}}.

Wishing, wanting, needing more time doesn’t get you more. If it did I would fill out the required paperwork right now. I need more time. I want to go back to a happier time when the people I loved were young and happy and here.
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Yesterday I snapped this photo of my hand on my Dad’s hand. It struck a chord in me. How much my hands look like my Mom’s. How strong and virile and young my Dad once was. How much I miss my kid sister and my Mom. When did my Dad become old? How did I not notice?

They say that time is a healer but I think that is a lie. Time is a thief. It slowly robs you of the people you hold most dear to you. Live in your moments. Love the people in your life while you have them.  Make time to be with people you love. They want nothing from you but your time. Spend your time with them wisely. Reap its rewards. Go live life! Make memories.

Who Is This Man?

I haven’t written a post in quite some time. I told myself I need some time off to regroup and enjoy my summer. As many of you know I had to place my Pops into a nursing home. Never an easy decision to make. The paperwork long,tedious and intrusive. I have always resisted placing my Pops because I didn’t want to lose him to the system. I have already lost more than I have ever imagined I would. My kid sister and my mother passed away. I have an older sister that I am not close to (my choice). I have distanced myself from her children as well. I can not live with their baggage and try to fix my baggage as well. Growing up in a dysfunctional family environment with no set coping skills will do that for you. My family’s way of getting through tough things together usually involved more yelling than conversation and lots of name calling and blame throwing. Counter productive to say the least. Not a real esteem builder either. I had to learn to accept and like myself on my terms.

I took the summer off from writing so I could find a way to set myself free from feeling guilty about what happened to Pops and I. I have not been handling our new living arrangement well at all. There are things about it I really like. I no longer have to meal plan for him or assist him in his bath. I get to eat supper with hubby every night and mostly I don’t have to worry Pops might roll away from his apartment for places unknown.

Do you have any idea how hard it has been for me to let go? Who is this man,that can’t remember my mother’s name? or that my kid sister had red hair? or that they both died too young and tragically? For my Pops it is a blessing but for me it is a curse. It only increases my sadness not dispels it. Who is this man? Dementia has changed everything about him I knew. This man is my Pops. I love him. I cry for the people he no longer remembers to miss. I cry for all that we have lost. stuff 005I cry because even though I see him whenever I can I MISS the man he used to be.

My Soul Music

I have never tried to write my blog while listening to music before. I thought I would give it a try. I am listening to In Blue by The Corrs. I love this CD. It helps to put me in a better mood when the thick fog of funk rolls in. I have the sound turned down a bit so I can process my thoughts. It is true that you never forget a good lesson learned. I used to sing, listen to music in high school to help me prep for tests. Feels like home, who knew? I switched to my go to gal…Streisand. Her music gives me something no other music has ever given me, the ability to believe in myself.

Lately, ok maybe that is a bad reference for time. I have not been getting along with myself for a few years now. This rift in my being has caused me turmoil and self-loathing. One would think that I would have learned to set myself free from that bullshit already. I think I have finally realized it is part of the mystery I call me. I lost faith in myself. I got lost on my journey. I am in the deep woods surrounded by mosquitoes and other wild life with no FECKING idea how to get back to the main road… except, I know the way. I have been unwilling to “fix” my course. Listen, I was in the middle of a first class pity party. I had balloons and snacks and more snacks and more snacks, well I think you get the idea. Eventually it was time to crawl down from my perch in the tress and rejoin the world around me.

I choose my life. Every crappy, wonderful, screwed up minute. I want to be healthy. One of my mother’s last wishes for me was to be well. She knew she was fading and her time was drawing to a close. She gave me one of her best Junie hugs. “I love you, Trish. I know you will take care of Daddy but I worry you won’t look after you. Don’t become me. I can’t walk. I struggle for breath. Someone has to help me with every small thing. Do you want to end up like me? unable to live like you want?” I brushed it off at the time. Mom being dramatic with all the trappings. She died three months later. I started WWs March 3, 2007. My mom passed away June 11.2007. In that short time I lost 50 pounds. I continued to lose for her, for me until I left behind 145 pounds. Hold your applause. Yes, I lost all that weight and then I walked away.

Funny thing about grief after awhile your mind softens the sharp edges so you can move on with your life. Unfortunately, I chose to move in the wrong direction. I had my reasons; ill conceived most of them. Shortly after my Mom’s passing I began taking care of my Dad. In the beginning he only needed gentle reminders and help with his shopping. I was on course. I managed to lose 145 pounds. I was 6 pounds short of reaching lifetime goal at WWs when my Dad had a cardio-vascular accident that changed our lives. He nearly died on me. I was thrust into full time caregiver with part time hours. Where was my rock? Suddenly I felt so useless and small. Dad got better physically but his dementia…well, that is an ongoing adventure = (

I coped the only way an addict knows how. I FELL off the wagon. No, that’s a lie. I JUMPED. It has taken eight years to regain most of the weight I lost. I didn’t want to deal with all the sadness, disappointment and loneliness that comes from taking care of an ailing loved one. There is no one to blame. It is what it is. I allowed myself to fall short on purpose, fulfilling my own doom theory. Well guess what? Screw that shit. I have things I want to do. Things I need to fix. Adventures to take. People to love. I accept I will always have to fight my need to “fix” my problems with food. Food is the worst friend, ever. I can’t live without her. She won’t change so I need to learn to give her space so my soul can have peace.