Ghosts.. friendly and otherwise...

My dad tells me he has been visited by mother, and far be it for me to argue this. I'm a bit saddened that she has not visited me, but perhaps he needs more than I do now. Years and years ago, I was visited by by grandmother - my mother's mother. She sat on the end of my bed, reached over and touched my foot. She told me I was going to be fine, happy, and loved. It was a time when I wondered if my life was going to get better or worse. She reassured me that it was an adventure, and without a doubt she was correct. I have not seen her since, though a friend told me that my dad's mom was looking over me one day not long ago. I didn't feel her presence, and quite honestly that spooked me a little. Although in hindsight, I can see that she and I were a lot more alike than I thought; I never knew that while she was alive. In fact, she scared me - most of the time. 

Now, here we are. This is not the first time my dad has mentioned a visit by my mom. The first time was shortly after her death. He said she had come to him at night and told him that she was at peace. It made him feel better. It made him feel that all was well. Since then he has spoken of how hard it is to be the survivor. Even in his mind he had determined that despite evidence to the contrary, that he was more more likely to be the first to go. After all, statistically, women outlive men. He has said that in a perfect world, couples who had been together as long as they had been would also die together. It rang bells of old Egypt and ancient worlds.. the ones where a spouse was disposed of when her husband died so that both would travel to the next world together. I get that. I understand that. I agree with his premise that it is vastly unfair for him to be expected to go it alone after all those years together. My dad and mom were together forever. They met in high school. They left their homes to be man and wife. Neither of them have ever lived alone. Marriage, children, family. How does one learn to be alone after 64 years? Heck, I have issues with that after months of being with someone else. I cannot imagine adjusting after all those years. My mother and father were devoted to one another.. we, the children, came second. As it should be.

This last visit was about two weeks ago. She and he were in the sun room, looking at her Christmas Cactus, in full bloom. She did not have her oxygen tubes; she did not look like she was in pain. Then, he and she moved to the living room, where she knelt to pet the dog. My dad says he reached down to massage her shoulders and to help her up. She leaned back into him, and then turned.. to poke him in the chest. She looked him in the eye and said "Not yet!".  
 
He woke to a feeling of pain. In his chest. He sat up in bed and stayed there for a while, wondering what she meant.. not yet.. he shouldn't give up yet? He wasn't to join her yet? He had been on a dating site, looking for company - a woman to share time with, to talk to, to have dinner with.. did she mean no dating yet? I wonder of the chest pain is something I should worry about.. did my dad have a small heart attack? He has seen his cardiac doctor recently and was deemed in good shape.. but still... 

On the one hand, it is not my business.. my dad's health belongs to him. I am his child, not his keeper. On the other hand, I feel a sense of responsibility. I told my mom I would look after him, make sure he is ok after her passing. I wonder about his visits with my mom's spirits. I am not a religious person, but I am also not arrogant enough to believe I know all, or even some of what happens when the body dies. I do know this, though: I love my father. I want him to be at peace and to be happy - most of the time. No one can be happy all of the time, and I know how hard it is to adjust to being alone again after a relationship - and none of mine has ever been as long as theirs was. I also know I am not ready to give him up yet. I want to know more about my dad. I want time with him - time to know him and for him to know me.  

But, I also know this is not my call. Perhaps it is not even his. 

As always, 

A. Tan Gledmess  

 

3 Months and Some Days

Life goes on. We all know this, even though we sometimes wish it would just stand still. There are days when I walk toward my parent's home, thinking my dad is at work and I'd like to see my mom. And I remember. She's not there anymore. Sometimes I go over and sit next to her chair, and just remember. Our chats. Our silences. Our laughter. I miss hearing her advice, her encouragement. I am eternally grateful for having had her as my mother. If I had been given the chance to pick one, she would have been it.

My dad is doing well too - better than I expected. Of course, I have no idea why I thought he would not do well. Maybe I was reading too many statistics. I, of all people, should know better than to trust those. Statistically, my family has never fit in. I raised smart, independent children as a single mom. My parents rose above their own families, families with many dysfunctions only to raise functional children. 

My dad ... I love this man. He's funny. He's supportive. He is always there when I need him. Today he was here to meet the repair guy while I was at work. Yesterday he loaned me $100 to get through to payday. I sure wish things would stop breaking down, but it is good to know there is a guy in my corner. He makes it tough for men I date.. how can they possibly hold a candle to my dad? He's reliable. He loves me unconditionally. He is there.. always. It's no wonder my mother loved him. She loved him every day of her life.

A few weeks ago he decided to look at some dating sites. As expected, he is lonely. He said he'd like a woman to talk to - about life, about his kids, about things. He would like to have company at dinner. Go to a movie. It is hard to adjust to being alone... especially after 65 years of togetherness. I know this. Even after months of being with someone, I have to adjust again - to being alone. He exchanged some chats with a couple of women. And, he met one in person.. where she worked. He is appalled and amazed at how women let themselves go at a certain point. He comes here to compare notes with me.. are the men I meet as frumpy? as lacking in pride? Do they all stop caring about their appearances?? We laugh. We compare notes. Who'd have thunk that this would be something we would have in common after all these years? He says he may have taken my mother for granted at times.. she always took care with her appearance and always wanted to put her best foot forward. How did he not know that other women her age were not like this? How could he know?

But life goes on. he has moved away from the dating site for now, and is settling in again. he is thinking about an art class and about fishing. I may have to dig out my own pole and go fishing with him. I would like that. I have been given an opportunity to know my dad as a human being and not just a father, a husband. I certainly don't want to waste that! 

Back to Normal... ?

Life goes on. Despite the urge to stop time and just be in the moment, life marches on - for better or for worse.. or for both. 
 
First week back to work has had its moments. The students were mostly glad to see me. That was both nice and surprising. Some of them gave me a hug and said how sorry they were. Once child shared how he had lost his grandmother the year before - and that he and his dad had lived with her until just before her death. Another young man said, "Hey, Ms B.. my condolences". Another child in my class lost a sister last year.. she just hugged me. I am amazed. These kids, with so many issues of their own, offer empathy and support to me - an adult. Their teacher.

 I guess I never really think about the affect I might have others. Like many folks, I am more concerned with how they affect me. I like people who make me feel good about me, about life. I like people who laugh, appreciate irony, and know when to just nod. I'm lucky. I have a number of friends who fit that description. I have friends who look out for me, check on me, and share their lives with me. I get to play with their dogs, their grandkids. I get to hang out when I get tired of being alone. And they love my irreverant comments, and laugh at my foibles - with me, not at me. But I move through life, being me, and not thinking about what my affect might be on them...

This week, however, tells me that I must be offering something of value. People have come up to offer a hug, to give one. The school nurse came out of her office, looped her arm through mine and walked me to the door at the end of that first day. She told me that she too had lost a parent. She offered condolences, kindness, and an ear if and when I need/want one. It's funny-strange. I don't know why this woman likes me. I've spoken to her only a time or two, and once was to consult on a computer problem - which turned out to really be a server issue that I couldn't fix on my end. Nice lady.  I wonder.. if things were reversed, would I offer such things? I like to think I would. I do believe I have. 

It's been a week for my dad too. I arrived home at the same time he did on Tuesday evening. It was also his first day at work. I'm sure the hugs and condolences he received affected him greatly. He too looked like he had been crying while driving. Earlier in the day he had sent me an email that made me smile and cry... almost at the same time. I love that man. I really, truly do. It's no wonder I have remained single all these years. They don't make men like that anymore.

The subject line on his email said 

I may have to start drinking

Now, my dad is not really a big drinker, though he does like a Brandy Alexander at Christmas (and he makes a damn good one too!) and a nip of good scotch now and then. I keep some on hand - as much for him as for me. We both have developed a taste for single malts. But, his subject line amused and confused me. Opening it, I see line one:

Well, the canary died... does Mom need birds in heaven?"

the insurance company sent forms, addressed to her to change the beneficiary... has she changed her mind?

 My dad has the most delightful writing style. I like to think I have inherited some of that. And, at this point, I am amused and amazed.. and laughing out loud... but the next lines.. 

took the thankyou cards to the people that rescued Dolly... wanted to ask them if they would like Dolly,..

lost my composure; tears welled up and couldn't ask

...had me in tears as well.

This man, my dad, would have loved it if I had stayed young and innocent. Given a choice - his choice - I would never have dated. At the same time, he deeply regrets that I have not found someone special, someone who cherishes me, loves me, and is willing to stay married to me! My dad has been my hero. He has rooted for me, counseled me, listened to me, and supported me - all the way, every day. I love this man. And while a piece of me wishes there was someway to ease his pain, to be there for him, I also know he just wants me to be here - in case. And here I am. He can drop me emails, stop in to visit. We can talk or just be in the same room together. We are both ok with silence. We are both ok with who we have turned out to be. Both of us are a little afraid or maybe just unwilling to break down in public. We keep our pain to ourselves most of the time. Maybe it's a midwestern thing. A local minister calls us humble folk..

What I know is this: my dad is the strongest, funniest, and most interesting man I know. I am proud to be his daughter. And I do believe that he is very proud to be my dad. 

To us! To Mom. To life. To love.

 

Dinners with Dad..

How odd that I knew my mother so well and yet knew so little about my dad. Or, maybe that is not so odd. He was never one to talk about his feelings and our time together was mostly spent while he was in his role as Mr Fix-it. Toilet broke? Dad was here. Sink leak? Dad was here. Lawnmower misbehaving? He was Johny-on-the-Spot. Since my mother's death, he has become a human being. And, an interesting guy. Last night we rode together into town to have dinner with my son and his lovely girlfriend. We talked.

My mother left behind a lot of things that interested her. She had a lot of stuff, and given that she was home all of the time, the stuff was everywhere. There is a collection of funny faced nuns sitting on the mantle of the fireplace. There are these decorative houses that are generally found under Christmas trees - she liked them so much that they sit on the shelf above the couch. There are reading corners everywhere with small piles of books, along with a kindle or two. And there is a bird - bright yellow canary - along with a psychotic dog. My dad says the dog is on probation. Dolly is the one we had to hunt down the morning of the day my mother died.

Last night's discussion, in part, included what to do with this dog. She has been lying in my dad's arms at night, as he sits in the chair that was primarily occupied by my mother. You can see that she does it under duress. Given her own choices, Dolly would stay in hiding these days - under a chair, under the couch, under a bed. He's not giving her a choice. He promised my mom that he would take care of her. He wonders if it is possible to take care of her by finding her a home where she is happier and has the company of a young child or another dog. He would like a dog that is happy to see him when he comes home; a dog that wags its tail and follows him around a bit. Dolly is not it. And you know, that's ok. The dog is not my mother. She is the dog.. and I have a feeling there is a little boy who would make her (and himself) very happy.

But, we talk. He talks about things, about ideas, about politics and life. My dad has a lot to say about things. And although I have no idea what my dad is feeling right now, he shares with me some little things - the way she left things out, the relationship she had with animals - hers and those in the wild -, his own feelings about the yard and the bird feeders and the fish in the ponds. I listen to him share ideas with my son, ask questions, and participate in the exchange of ideas. I like the way he chose to sit next to me instead of across from me at the table last night. I like seeing him with the room and space to simply be who he is, without having to be what my mother needed too. These past years have taken a toll on him, on all of us. I hope, I trust, that as my mother looks down from the heavens, that she is smiling. I hope, I trust, that she is happy to see him relieved and at peace. I trust, I hope, that he is both of those things and comfortable with himself. I'd like to keep him around a while.

 

One Week Today

How does one say goodbye? I know she is at peace. I know she is without pain. I know that heaven does have a new angel on board - a woman I know as Mom. She was my friend.

It is funny how life goes on. Friends call with dinner invitations. The bands play at the local clubs. My dad is back on the regular schedule at work, and I will go back to my students on Tuesday - taking Monday to help out a friend. Friendship. So important.How does one say 'til we meet again, when meeting again means I will also be at the end of my life?

I think about my children. They are so vital, so involved with their lives. I'm glad they have had things to do and people to see, relationships to nourish. I wonder if the powers that be had a plan for me, if perhaps this is why I am single. And, I wonder where to go from here. How to go on from here. My mom was such an important part of my life these past years. Coming home early to have dinner with her. Staying home to be on call, to be there in a storm. She was so afraid of being alone, of being stuck, of being helpless and in danger. Fear. Is that what I am feeling? Adrift and afraid? I know my mom is no longer fearful, My dad also seems at peace. Such new territory. A new world. I wonder. 

So, I say goodbye. We say goodbye. We wave to the heavens, we smile at the sky. I sing. I dance. I talk to her. I don't know if she hears me, but I do know that I still need to talk. To share. To believe. And I know that she would want me to go on, go forward to love and be loved. I know she loved my children. I know she loved my brothers, and their families. I know they will miss her to. We honor her by moving forward, into our own lives and letting go of our children so that they can live theirs. 

I'll miss you mom. Dad will too.

Healing

After the births of my children, I was granted 6 weeks of time. Time to heal, to adjust, to gain a new rhythm. Now, following the death of my mother, I wonder why bereavement isn't 6 weeks as well. It is, after all, a rebirth. I feel as if I am becoming reborn.. to a new way of looking at things, a new approach. My lifestyle is changing. My pain is going to take time to heal. Sometimes the deepest cuts are the ones we cannot see.

My dad is selling off all the signs of her illness. He placed an ad for her scooter yesterday. Sold it today. I'm thinking this is positive movement but a piece of me is worried. Is he simply taking care of business? He did show me his insurance policy and where I should look for important papers. 

I can see signs of relief on his face. He looks younger again. The toll of my mother's illness was born by all of us. It has been a very tough time, this past year or two. The past week was very intense, but we have been building to it, for a very long time. I have moments of complete clarity followed by minutes of complete pain. My mother played such an important role in my life. In his life. Such an amazing woman.

We move forward, a day, a moment. We slide back. It is the rhythm of life. I watch my friends deal with the same pain, the same moments, and then some. My best friend lost her son in August. My mom lost hers - 3 years ago this past April. My loss is no less important, yet it is much less than those. Our children should outlive us, always. Our children are our legacy, as I am my mother's. 

I sit. I mourn. I sing. I dance. I cry. Each day is an opportunity. To step up. To step out. To be. We can't help it. We move forward. 

The Morning After...

The dust settles, literally and figuratively. Brother 2 tells me brother 4 is angry with me.. feels I take over and make the rules. I have to admit, that there is something to that.. but then I am 10 years older, and have been here, with my parents next door for over 20 years. I have not had nor taken the option of not being available. This, in itself, makes me privy to things that they are not. Certainly to things he is not. I know my parents. I know the needs without being told. I have learned to step in surreptitiously and, ninja-like, help. He is jealous. He feels that it is my fault he is not in on it, that he is not the one my dad looks to, or comes to. His ego says I want to be the one that my parents look to. I can't help him with this. I have 20 years of being here. He has one week of wanting to be. And in another week, he'll be too busy again.

This isn't news to me, though everyone acts as if it should be. And, I get the feeling they want me to fix this somehow. I can't. And I'm not. Time to grow up, maybe? Me. not him. I don't need to be a hero. I don't want to be the hero. And I have no need to justify what I am, who I am, or why I am here. It just is. And I do wish he would step in, be available, be here. You know it is not about quality time. It is simply about time.

I have been blessed with time. Time to sit. Time to walk. Time to tell jokes and laugh with them. Time to talk. I had time. In the end, I made time. You can't take that back and you can't fake it. One is either present or not. 

Life is about survival until the day it is over. How we survive, who we travel with and how we travel is another matter altogether. We can be as fair as possible to one another. We can step in when help is needed, even if unasked for. We can be available.. make ourselves available. And that is all we truly can do. That is all I do.

My brother? I wish I knew.. or maybe I am glad I don't. I have, however, asked to remain uninformed in the future.. if it is not mine to fix, do not hand it over to me.. please.