ellenspictures

Author: Hope Never Vanishes

It is that time of the year. To reflect. To understand more. To learn.

Since 2005, each year, from May 24 through September 20, I feel the time coming well ahead of when it does finally begin.

In that year, in that time frame, much happened. The events were compressed and highly charged with life changing impact, and the resulting reactions and emotions that occurred caused a ripple effect that has been multi-faceted, branching, and will likely last a lifetime.

I have dreams that indicate that there are remnants of this within my mind and soul. I wonder if there is communication occurring, not from here on this earth, but from that place where souls go – heaven, hopefully – and the nature of the dream is comforting – but with as little as we know, the scientists like to say it is chemical.

I ask, “why then, does it take this form?” And many of them who have been stumped do finally acknowledge that there is something to this missing link that we may be designed to never be able to grasp… It does not matter. It is existential and experiential and bottom line, it keeps me wondering.

I am hopeful that it does mean that someday, I will be able to be less distant, and I will be able to pick up with the relationships with those who are no longer on this earth with us. The closeness of our souls, the genetic connections, and so much that we believe, that we have faith that will be, is within ourselves.

Now that I am a grandmother, I wish that I could impress how important those tiny moments of relationship and connection should not be taken for granted.

My Grandmother – 1985.

When I was cooking a large Thanksgiving meal, and told my Mom to tell my Grandmother I would call her back – and I did not – then a couple of days later, got the call from my Aunt that my grandmother had passed away – I was wracked with guilt forevermore that I did not get to have that conversation with her or see her again. But when is that last conversation? You don’t know.

My Dad – 2000.

When my Dad always said to me, “You should come up and see us more.”, I knew later that he knew that his time was coming. His health problems imposed that his “use-by date” would be within a predetermined time frame. We, unfortunately, took it for granted that since he was not in a hospital or bed-ridden, he was still around, so would be around. No, that is not how it was.

As he became critically ill, having one event that put him into the hospital – he thereafter then went in and out of comatose states. Being on a ventilator, he was less able to communicate with us, but at least was able to get out final messages to those of us – those he felt were most critical. He held on for a long time, but was eventually overtaken by his failing organs and their inability to keep him alive.

We could not be with him when he passed away due to visiting hours limitations, and the staff at that facility were apparently amenable to calling us in the middle of the night when they felt he was near death. I regret to this day that this was the situation. The “American Way” we treat people is by and large deplorable. He was on a ventilator, therefore we could never bring him home to pass away on his own terms, in peace and dignity.

Rob – 2005.

The day I drove back to trade shifts with Rob’s dad, to do laundry, and to go out to give celebration for Will’s birthday, which he well deserved, I did not know that he would be gone within 48 hours. I did not understand when I left that evening, when he said to me “Mom, I want you to be with me when I die…”, that he knew. This has haunted me ever since. He knew. He was trying to tell me what was impending. He was so smart, and so analytical, and intuitive – he knew. His brain function never diminished. I also believe that he had one foot in this life and one foot in the next.

I was spared watching the cataclysmic events as he reached his “event horizon”. But, I was not spared of the graceful departure that a handful of us witnessed – this will be with me for the rest of my days.

After getting the call from Rob’s dad, that he had gone into cardiac arrest, but had been resuscitated, but was still unconscious, I drove like a mad woman as fast as I could to get down to the hospital to be by his bedside, hoping that I would have an opportunity to speak with my son again. We learned that he was in a state where blood chemistry indicated that he might never wake-up or survive off of life support, and if he remained there, there was not enough left to sustain him beyond being in a vegetative state on life support.

As Rob had many times expressed outrage over Terry Schaivo’s being left on life support by her parents, beyond the advice of everyone, to the degree that it had reached the lawsuits and Supreme Court, I did not dare entertain that he would approve of being in that state.

Shocked, saddened, gutted – we knew that we had to make the hardest and worst decision of our lives. I knew that I would forever be saying to myself, “What if?”

But, I prayed that God was guiding me to do what was best for Rob’s soul and state of being. The humans had been trying for over 17 years to keep him alive and well, and the humans had failed miserably. God took over. I could rest with that. I think that everyone understood this.

My Aunt – 2007.

In October of 2006, after spending time with my Aunt and Cousin at what would have been my Dad’s 66th high school reunion, I learned that my Aunt had some issues that later within a few months became diagnosed as terminal. She was always such a great role model and friend, having lived her life differently, and of her own choosing – we had celebrated with her, her 80th, two years prior, in a surprise trip that her grandchildren and children designed for commemorating a life well lived of a person well loved.

In the following spring, we got the call that it was time to come out to her and spend some time with her, as she was in serious decline. We did and for this I was glad. We were called again to come see her in her last days. Again, I was extremely grateful to my family for recognizing that this was essential. Many of us who were there for her 80th were there for this time, as well. The lesson is that she was recognized and well-loved and priority was made that she would know this before she passed away.

The sad part is that two of her sons did not show up. One had been estranged years earlier, separated from the family, and lost for a period, never to return. Heartbreaking to my Aunt and Uncle. The other, for whatever reason did not return before her death. We have only to wonder why. The lesson here is that there are still some people who do not understand that this is a part of life that modern life has removed – and it should be observed and restored – that being with those who are preparing to depart to exchange the love and any forgiveness ahead of the journey.

Sadie – 2008.

In September of 2008, on September 17th, after we returned to our home that had been severely damaged by Hurricane Ike, we went to the veterinary clinic where our beloved dog, Sadie, had been kenneled to endure through the storm, in the state of fragility and illness that she was having, in the months leading up to this date. The doctor called us and let us know that she had turned critical, and that we should come. We did, and we faced letting her go.

She was unable to eat, not able to move, and clearly, looking up at us with those big brown eyes, saying, “let me go”. It was hard, holding her, hugging on her, and feeling her last breath as her life left her body and she passed over the Rainbow Bridge. Again, gutted, we went home and sobbed our eyes out. A broken house, losing a dog, and within the next three days, a third anniversary of Rob’s death. It seemed all too much. With the strength that we had, we moved through the time, and processed it as best as we could.

Geoff – 2009.

Geoff was my “uncle-in-law” from New Zealand. A vibrant star – kind, committed, and a wonderful person, loved by so many – he was suddenly taken ill, at an early age, and never was able to come back from a state of unconsciousness. It was devastating and shocking to the family and with every year that passes, he is missed by all. We went to say farewell as we left to return from our trip there, which had been a joyous blessing full of celebration, at which he had danced and celebrated well into the wee hours. This illustrates how suddenly and unexpectedly this happens to us. The lesson is to live every day to the fullest. He did that.

Mom – 2010.

Two years later, my Mom, in apparent decline, was diagnosed with terminal illness. Due to her mental state, and her desires, the difficult treatment option was declined as it would have not been tenable, nor would it have extended her life in any way but one being in pain and difficult. We chose hospice.

I spent each day, at least once a day, being with my Mom, as long and as much as she could tolerate. Some days, she was exhausted and fell asleep right before me. Some days, she had the energy to visit with family and friends.

She became less aware, and we knew she was preparing for departure.

When she left, it was in the best of all possible ways – with our minister at her side, saying last rites, with us holding her hand as she passed into the next place and life. As my Dad had said to me, “Take care of your mother.” in his last words – I made sure that I did my best to have her in a place where she could live her last days in dignity.

Love is the Lesson.

We are humans with our imperfect understanding and our time-limited “shells” in which we live in our human suits that equip us to breathe and supply energy by fuel consumption through an elegant and complex system that we continue to try to understand every day. Other inhabitants on our planet exist in much the same way, but with different paradigms and in different modes.

We have love that connects us. Some of the other inhabitants with whom we have some levels of connection seem to love us back. I am convinced that we do build solid relationships with humans and some selection of animals that indicate that this capability is part of the DNA of “earth beings”. Some have less of it. Emotions, whether chemical or not, charge us and drive us in our daily lives. They are unmistakably the primary driver, like it or not. Love is the positive, apathy is the anti-love, and hate is the emotional response when love has gone off the radar and dysfunction ensues.

Every day we are reminded that this is a dynamic existence – that love, life, happiness, disaster, and demise are components of this. Should our core cease to exist – personally, or planetary, the result is the same – our souls or our energy mass goes elsewhere.

Physics enters the picture, but does not explain everything. Faith is in the mix. We give it all to God – and survey says that most people do have a God that is their higher power that they trust because it is all too much for humans to manage everything – this is apparent, and this is what we have learned, and what we know.

Each year, the love that I have for all that are dear to me grows larger. I change. I am dynamic. I age. I know that I will have my event horizon at some point. Sands through the hour glass. Do the math.

Love now before it is too late. In the words of Bruce Cockburn, the song-writer and poet who has been through many ups and downs: “Life Short, Call Now”

That album title says it all.

Don’t be too busy to call. Don’t put people off. They might not be there later, when you finally remember to call – or you might just get that call, but not from them.

It happens.

We did right by my Mom. Daily, sometimes twice daily, I would spend time with her, until she was exhausted and had to rest. In the days ahead of her passing, it was painful to watch – anxiety racked me, and with my experience, I knew that the inevitable was coming soon. When in her last hours, and as she passed, she had the most optimal of situations – with a last rites by our minister from our church, and three of us holding her hand and praying as she left.

She had a send-off that was as ideal within our beliefs, yet every send off is as it should be in the eyes of God.

This is hard for us humans to grasp. That time is not held for those last conversations, for good-byes, or other reasons to hold-off. We understand this very well by now.

This dealing with departure, is difficult, and is painful for those who survive no matter how you slice it. My perspective is that we need to live each day knowing that it is not our decision as to when we go. We may or may not have lead-time. It is hard not to live, waiting for the inevitable to happen. Churches are full of people who are trying to cope with this by being with others and hearing either comforting words or words of warning, whichever seems to help them the most.

For me, I go through this period of time each year, working through the loss lessons, learning a little more, each year.

September 9, 2016
the horror. dear Mr. Donkey, can you help us, please?

Right now observing the culture is a very scary thing.

It seems that we have a nominee (presumptive candidate) that has given permission to anyone who wants, to be the most awful, say anything on their minds self that they can be. No regard for anyone else, showing how ugly and horrible they are inside exists for them as a pleasure – a release of long held emotions that this man has given them permission to vent and use to further their ends.

It is an all in angry, fed-up, hope being expressed by these supporters, for someone to get them out of their miserable situations where they have been since whenever, likely due to not getting enough of whatever it was at the time that they thought that they needed it, or felt it was due to them – and refusing to take individual accountability for being in charge of their own lives, who are now stating how victimized that they have been – but how, now, they will take charge and shoot anyone and everyone who is going to threaten them, or take their stuff, or do whatever it is that they think these threats will do.

They are angry at the “government” for dis-enabling them, but yet, they say they want limited government. They are angry at people who are of other races for taking things from them (like jobs), yet they wouldn’t take the jobs that a majority of those people of other races hold – mainly, because many of the jobs that these angry people aspire to have are out of their reach due to their own personal shortcomings, for which they will not own or do anything to remedy.

They want the right to own guns and use them, because they perceive that there is some sort of shadow government force that is going to come haul them off somewhere or take their things, many of which they do not really own, but have bought on credit – so the logic is pretty crazy: it amounts to non-sense – what would be stolen is the “right to pay off the debt”. It goes on, and on, and on.

One can only imagine what they have conjured up in their minds. From what I hear, the imaginations of these people have run wild, or else they have seen and been influenced in their thinking by too many fantasy films with related subject matter. They are fed daily because they don’t get out of their armchairs, where they sit, developing an unfit mind and body, watching too much news from extreme minded media. Perhaps they are the children of those who were strong John Birchers in the years, post WWII, raised in a household of conspiracy theories, paranoia, and hate for anyone and anything not like themselves.

Who knows?

For one thing, I fervently do not want to have this country taken down by these people. My state has already been taken. It is a scary place to live when you are exposed to what can happen if you get on the “wrong-side” of anyone who is staunchly embedded in those aforementioned belief systems. Refer to my post about my massage experience when the therapist suddenly turned angry on my back.

We pray for balance to prevail and we pray for the return of sanity – but the biggest problem that we are facing is that these people think that they are the sane ones, and the rest of us are crazy –therein lies the problem.

I suppose that we are forced to have to watch this unfold, then watch further as we get onto the showdown in November – that’s when we REALLY have to pray hard for peace (and for taking away the madness of crowds). The news is pervasive and everywhere unless you cloister yourself in a cave and shut off all media.

The worry is that this violent trend will continue to escalate and that means that being in the wrong place at the wrong time is more likely for all of us.

Grant us Peace. Please. Before it gets worse.

July 19, 2016
a day with my dad – and life with him

My Dad was mostly a “mellow fellow”. He was not so much an expressive type, but more he was likely a bit like I am – social, but not overly extroverted. Sometimes we could sit and not talk, but just have bits of conversations – remarking about this or that, or maybe one of us would ask a question and wait for the answer, then discuss maybe a little, or maybe a lot.

He would try to persuade me when we did not see eye to eye, but he did not ever force me to have his opinion – but there would be times that he would remind me of our differences, especially when we bought a new car, once, when he thought we should not have spent the money on it. But, it was okay in the end – and we did not spend his money on it, so he lived with it.

There were those times when I was small, when I disobeyed – and it meant that he had to do something to let me know that I had not done the right thing. I remember feeling confused because it was clear that he did not want to discipline me – that was my Mom’s job – but she was away, so he had to do this, and later, I thought it was rather comical. I do remember him saying that he didn’t like this, but it was “for my own good.” I also remember thinking, “Well, how about not doing anything, because that would be good!” As I said, I was likely too young to see the bigger picture.

We were on car trips more than once. I remember that he gave me a Coca-Cola with peanuts poured down into the liquid – something that my Dad used to have as a quick lunch that he could consume while driving from point A to point B. That was fun, and of course not very normal – my Mom was a 3 meal a day person – so, my lunch was usually some sort of square meal, not peanuts and pop!

My Dad bought me my first puppy. Her name was “Bell”. She was a cute little bird dog pup, but she ran away. That taught me a good bit about loss. The next dog he brought home was a beagle named “Peaches” who was given to my Dad by someone who could not take care of her anymore. She became my buddy and was for years. She ran away and came back many times. My Dad taught me about dogs having puppies, and let us watch the birth of her first litter. It was all pretty cool.

He taught me to play golf (sort of). He tried to teach me to play tennis, but I was hopeless! He was a tennis and a basketball star in high school and in college. I still have his medals.

My Dad could fix almost anything. He was the dependable one in my life – the source of my strength – the one who could make sure that stuff would be okay.

It was later, once I was out of the house that those things that went wrong were not always what he could help fix, but he was there, nonetheless, as that solid force on which I could lean, or cry, or that one person to whom I could tell most of my troubles. He would lift me up and palm me a $50 and say, “Don’t tell your Mother…”, and I would save that for the rainiest of my rainy days, or spend it on my kids… It gave me a sense of security that I could get somewhere if I had to…

I miss my Dad something terrible some days. I feel like that his last months of life were more like his being in a state where he could not be himself. He kept telling me that I needed to come and see them more, but I was busy trying to make a living and raise my kids, and deal with a terrible marriage situation that I kept from my Dad, for whatever reason I had at the time — and that made it worse — I probably should have told him, and he probably knew and suspected that things were not right, but “water under the bridge”.

My Dad died in July of 2000. He did not witness some of the extreme horrors that we have had in the world since that time. In some ways, I am grateful. In other ways, I wish he had been there to give us perspective. He was a survivor of The Depression, and lived through World War II. Likely, he could have said a few things to calm our shock and our fears. We will not ever know.

My Mom was heartbroken and never fully recovered from his death. Me, I had to be strong for everyone else. I probably did not give it a proper “grievin’” until the year 2013, when I quit my job and had two months off to think, and to unpack the boxes that revealed many things to me about my Dad and his later years.

He was absolutely resistant to losing control – and it was apparent, that he felt that he could keep everything in order for the both of them, especially since my Mom was constantly changing her mind, chasing her happy place that I believe she never found. In reality, the “unhappyness” was inside, not in some illusive place that they would ever find.

The Dylan Thomas poem, Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night was my Dad’s approach to letting go of life. He did not want to go, and he wouldn’t as long as he was consciously able to resist. He held on as long as he could. It was not pretty.

His dying words to me were, “Take care of your Mother.”. Mom never was the rock – yet she tried to be one of sorts, much later. She provided a different type of support to most of us – but this was not always a good thing for some. We cannot turn back the pages to reset the course of our lives. This is fact.

As I get older, I understand more about what Dad was going through at the time, the last years of his life. I understand how much I am like him in some ways, and yet in some ways, I likely have some Mom in me, too, naturally. That is genetics.

But I can say for sure that my Dad was the best Dad ever – he was devoted, protective, and loyal – and he loved me and took great care of me from the day I was conceived to the maximum extent that he could for the rest of his life.

Dad came from good folks with solid roots, and he gave that to me. It was a wonderful gift. It is my point of reference – in essence my “bearing point” for all that I encounter. It is a “what would Sonny have done?” question that I ask myself when difficult things happen where I must contemplate what to do.

June 19, 2016