He's The Man

After a week of depressing posts, I decided to lighten it up a bit. With out further ado, I give to you...'He's the Man"

The Week That's Been

Warning...this post is one big whinefest. Proceed at your own caution!

This has not been a very good week. Last Saturday, my cousin Frank died. Then Friday, after I picked the kids up from school, I came home and my mother was on the sofa sleeping. After a while, when she still hadn't woken up, I woke her up to say 'hi' and she was quite lethargic, and told me that she had been throwing up. Which she had done...all over herself, the sofa, and the floor. Turns out she was 'open both ends' and didn't realize it.

Rather than go into the details, I will just say that I called Joan and we (mom, Joan , and I) spent 4 hours in the Emergency room (per a nurses suggestion). At some point, I bought adult diapers. (which didn't work by the way). The ER MD gave mom a prescription for anti nausea medication, but nothing for the diarrhea.

Yesterday was Sports championship soccer game (which his team lost) and I didn't want to miss the game so Joan came over to be with mom while I was gone. Joan decided to call a pharmacist, give the pharmacist a list of mom's medications, and see if there was something that we could give mom to stop her from 'going'. The pharmacist made a recommendation of a product which I picked up on the way home. This product, so far, has seemed to do the trick. I am hoping that mom doesn't end up with the opposite problem.

One of the things I noticed, and I know that Deb from A Tired Mummy totally understands, is that when someone has diminished cognitive capacity, as in the case of my mother, and they try to be helpful, they end up just making a bigger mess.

I am exhausted beyond belief. Today Sport has basketball picture day and a game. While DH takes Sport to his basketball stuff, I will hang with mom and keep an eye on her. I am praying that it was just a 24 hour bug and that she will be back to her old self today. Oh and did I mention, I have company coming over tonight? Thank goodness it's my family and not DH's family...but still, I need to move a table, set both tables...well you know the drill. sigh

Happy Birthday...Sport!

Today is Ten's eleventh birthday. I guess that means I can't really call him Ten anymore. Let's see, his soccer team has a championship game today. He has a basketball game tomorrow, and he just finished "Fall ball" baseball. I guess that means that a good name for him would be "Sport". I ran the name by Ten and Elle and they both liked it...so Sport it is!

I cannot believe that it was eleven years ago today that he was born. I loved him from the moment that he was conceived. I knew that he would definitely be my last child, and I treasured each and every moment of his babyhood, toddlerhood, and childhood. O.K., maybe not every moment...I sure didn't treasure the sleepless nights, but overall as Sport passed each milestone, I remember thinking "This is the last time I will have a baby/toddler/child doing xy or z".

Sport is an amazing young man. He has personality... lots and lots of personality. He loves to talk...and talk and talk and talk. He's loving and cuddly, and he possesses good values (honesty being the first one that comes to mind). He's an all around great kid.

So Sport, on your eleventh birthday I want you to know that I love you, I love your smiles, and I love your sense of humor. I am so grateful to be your mom, and I look forward to watching you grow into the man that you will become.

Moving through Grief

I think that it is possible to not really know somebody until after they die. The task of breaking down that which constituted someones life often reveals things that they compartmentalized, or kept secret while they were living. Without going into details (I'll leave those to Joan and Ina) there are bits of information, that we have learned about Frank, that have helped remind us that he was not a saint.

His death, and it's aftermath have made me think about and focus on just how open our lives become, once we have died. It makes me wonder what 'secrets' I have that my loved ones would uncover if I died (not that I am planning on dying anytime soon). I don't think I have any earth-shattering secrets, I'm the kind of person who tends to be open and honest about myself. (I'm just not confrontational). So I don't think that anyone would be shocked with anything they would learn.

But, if I were to die suddenly, I think after the initial shock, everyone who was left behind would curse me with every breath that they take. I think that they would feel intense anger they would have to sift through all of my excessive papers and clutter. They would moan and groan about how disorganized I really was, and how angry they felt because they would be left with the daunting task of throwing out my cr*p. Sure, they would remember the good things about me, but they would spend quite a bit of time and energy holding on to the anger.

The good news is that if everyone was angry at me and all my clutter, it might help them get over their sadness more quickly. It might help them transition away from the profound sadness and grief to a place of acceptance.

I think that is what has happened with Frank. There are so many details and so much 'stuff' and drama to deal with, that the raw pain and sadness are being pushed aside. I'm hoping the grief doesn't push back.

Grief

It amazes me the impact that grief can have on a person. There are many things that can cause grief, but ultimately it comes from the profound feeling of loss. I am no stranger to grief having lived through it's stages many times. Yet intellectualizing grief doesn't stop the experiencing of it.

Yesterday, my cousin Frank died. Suddenly and unexpectedly. There was no time to prepare for this news, no time to slowly ease my way into wrapping my mind around it, BAM...it was a done deal, and suddenly I had to deal with it...or not.

When my sister told me that Frank had died, I felt absolutely nothing. There was Joan crying and sobbing on the phone and there was me, a cold hearted b*tch feeling absolutely nothing. I know what I was feeling was shock and disbelief. I kept waiting for Joan to tell me it was all a mistake. My mind, my heart, my soul were not ready to absorb the information that my cousin Frank, the man who told such engaging stories, and who made everyone laugh, was gone.

I managed to tell DH that Frank had died, and I was as cool as a cucumber as I told him. It wasn't until I stepped into the shower that I felt the first wave of sadness wash over me, and finally the tears flowed freely.

When someone dies, there are a lot of details to take care of. One of those details was to tell my mother that her beloved nephew was dead. Both Joan and Ina wanted to be with me when I told my mother. Fortunately my mom doesn't come out for breakfast until about 10am, which gave both Joan and Ina plenty of time to get to my house. My moms reaction, was to be expected...shock, disbelief, then tears...lots and lots of tears.

The real bummer for my mother was that as different people came over throughout the day, and they spoke of Franks death, the news of his death was new for her. It didn't matter that I had written all of the details on a piece of paper for her...she would forget, then learn all over again that he had died...and each time she learned of his death was like the first time. Finally last night Franks death moved from no memory to a temporary memory. We'll see what this morning brings for her.

I'm not really sure what, if anything I should do about reminding my mother about Frank's death until the funeral. We really don't know when that will be, since he wants to be cremated and then the ashes will need to be flown out to California from Georgia. Somehow I want to help prepare my mother for the service, so that she can move through the stages of grief. Realistically, once the funeral is over she will not give Frank another thought, unless someone brings him up. Subconsciously she may miss his phone calls but his absence will not be a part of her reality. However, her world will become just a little bit smaller without his phone calls, and the joy that they brought to her.

This saddens me as we start to muddle our way through the five stages of grief.

Rest In Peace

Early this morning, I received a call from my sister informing me that our first cousin, Frank had just died. Joan had received a call from our cousin Ina . Frank was Ina's brother. Frank was only 61 years old. Way too young to die.

To say that we were all surprised, would be an understatement. Ina spoke with the coroner and was told that Frank died of a massive heart attack. He had been living in Georgia for the past few years. Joan, Ina and Frank's, son Brian, are leaving tomorrow morning to fly to Georgia so that they can: make arrangements for his body to be shipped back to California, take care of cleaning out his apartment, his office, and basically to take care of anything else that can be taken care of while they are there.

Frank was my mother's favorite. He called my mother about once a week, just to see how she was doing, and to make her laugh. And boy oh boy did he make her laugh. When Frank was on the phone with my mom, she would giggle and guffaw at the bawdry way that he would speak to her. And while my mother would soon forget that he had called, while she was on the phone with him she was animated and full of joy.

Although my mother won't remember that he has died, and while she won't consciously think to herself that he hasn't called in a while, the laughter and love that he sent through the phone lines will be missed.


I love you Frank...Rest In Peace.

Mission Accomplished

There have been times in my life when I have started something, become discouraged, distracted, or I realized it just wasn't for me.. and I quit. There have been other times in my life where I have been willing, determined, and able to see something through to the end...and I have.

I wasn't sure what would happen with NaBloPoMo. I knew when I signed up to participate and posted it on my blog, that if I decided to quit people would know about it (not necessarily care one way or the other, but they would know that I was a quitter). I 'encouraged' my sister, Joan to sign up too, figuring (correctly as it turned out) that if I started to become overwhelmed with the committment, or discouraged with my own lack of creativity, I would be able to turn to her for support and ideas.

It turned out that there were days when my mind just drew a blank. On those days I would call my sister, and she was there for me, offering encouragement, and sometimes an idea or two, to get me through the block in my brain.

I don't know how much I've helped Joan, but I want Joan to know that I really appreciate having her for a sister. So thanks Joan...together we survived NaBloPoMo...or is that Nipomoblomo?