The Agonizingly Slow March Towards Certain Death

From the moment we are born, we are on a path to our death. Some get there quicker than others. Infants die. Children die. Young adults die “in their prime”, they say. These deaths we mourn. These deaths tear our hearts apart into teeny, tiny pieces. We question God’s grace and curse the unfairness of such untimely deaths. Unfair, I suppose, because these now-dead infants, children and young adults are denied the harrowing journey into old age.

Mom is 93. Her joints have stiffened and her eyesight has failed. She lost her right breast decades ago to cancer. If, ten years ago, she were to have not awakened from her night’s sleep, her death would have been very sad, but not unexpected. I would have missed her terribly and I’d regret how my daughter didn’t get many years with her grandma. But such is not the case. Instead, it was about ten years ago that we started noticing Mom’s mental processes beginning to fail. She repeated her life stories more often. She couldn’t remember names of neighbors and friends. She took to writing everything down and posting these notes throughout her apartment:

• Aspirin in drawer next to sink
• $650 rent due on 5th of month
• Dr. Anderson - primary care physician
• Clean cat box

I adapted, as did she, to her ever diminishing abilities. I reasoned that this was Mom easing into old age.

Then the adaptations began to fall short. I found opened containers of yogurt, pudding and salad dressing stored in the cupboard rather than the refrigerator. Duplicate, triplicate and quadruplicate purchases of batteries, ketchup, scotch tape, envelopes, jelly, and other random items were scattered about her small apartment. Her fingernails were often dirty, her hair disheveled and food dotted the front of her blouses.

Three times I accompanied her to her doctor appointment to discuss these changes with a medical professional. Three times THE MOST ASININE TEST EVER to assess her cognitive abilities was administered. Three times she was determined to be okay.

Diarrhea became common-place. Was it the unrefrigerated food? Maybe the host of supplements she recently purchased? It was obvious she was suffering alone at night as her bed and the path from her bed to the bathroom was often stained with her own feces. The apartment manager began suggesting it was time to move Mom somewhere else.

An assisted living place that would accept her meager income - - and her cat - - was found. She accepted the move from her apartment to assisted living with relative ease. “I have the nicest neighbors here,” she’d say.

And it was this same pleasantness that became the hallmark of her decent.

The handful of stories from her life that she repeated over and over again all had happy endings. When asked, she always replied she felt great. She was always happy to see a visitor and never sad when the visit ended. She loved the mountains, the rain, watching people from the front porch. Everything was good, right, pretty and happy. This ever-pleasant, easy going, upbeat person was definitely NOT the mom I knew.

The descent continues. She doesn't live with her cat as she can’t remember to care for it. She struggles using her walker, opting for the wheelchair more and more often. She wears pull-ups 24/7 and a Johnny-on-the-spot is permanently placed in her room. The life stories she recounts is reduced from twenty different stories to maybe five or six… on a good day. I self-medicate before visiting her so I don’t become too exasperated having to hear the same story repeated over and over and over again. She quit wearing her glasses a few months ago. “A miracle,” she claimed one day and she hasn’t worn her glasses since. She sleeps most of the day in the chair in front of the television. Her ability to initiate conversation with others is gone. Her stories once rooted in fact have become pure fantasy. She believes she drives a Pontiac convertible and tutors rich kids every Tuesday.

What hurts most is realizing my heart connection with this frail and confused woman is faltering. She doesn’t behave, talk, reason or conduct herself like my mom. She is becoming just some old lady that I must visit and spend time with. Any sense of guilt I may feel when I don’t visit her is eased with the knowledge she doesn’t even realize I’m not visiting her. She’s incontinent, in pain and her sense of taste and thirst are so diminished that she enjoys neither drinking nor eating.

My truth is, if she were to die today, I would only feel relief. I have already grieved Mom’s passing. Mom is lost somewhere down the dark hole of dementia, and it kills me a little bit every day to know she is nowhere near the bottom.

Gossip*

Rumour has it she has replaced her teeth with matches.

In her apartment, there is a queen-sized bed. It is littered with pillows. The pillows are stuffed with human hair. That’s what they say.

The matchstick teeth catch against the necks of the people she brings home. She sets them alight within seconds, cannot help but watch wide-eyed as fire swallows their limbs, bone and all. Later, she disposes of the body, but not before dripping honey over the char. Not before scalping them with her nail file, which she has sharpened into a shiv against her hipbones. They say she pulls each hair out one by one, say she does it lovingly, say her hands are steady. She cuts out their tongues. So I’ve been told.

She cuts out their tongues and serves them to friends under the pretence of pig’s feet. When she was a young thing, her father had a sweet tooth for her body. Helped himself to seconds so often that the sugar eventually turned him to rot. They say she mixed his ashes with soil and the seed of a strawberry tree, watered it with her own saliva. She picks the fruit by hand and dishes it up with cream, eats it every night for supper. Never gets tired of the taste. At least, that’s what everyone says.

(*Found this on some random blog I stumbled across.  It's not my writing, but I liked the imagery.)

Bob Marley Quote

“Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around.

You tell them things that you’ve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more. You share hopes for the future, dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many disappointments life has thrown at you. When something wonderful happens, you can’t wait to tell them about it, knowing they will share in your excitement.

They are not embarrassed to cry with you when you are hurting or laugh with you when you make a fool of yourself. Never do they hurt your feelings or make you feel like you are not good enough, but rather they build you up and show you the things about yourself that make you special and even beautiful. There is never any pressure, jealousy or competition but only a quiet calmness when they are around. You can be yourself and not worry about what they will think of you because they love you for who you are.

The things that seem insignificant to most people such as a note, song or walk become invaluable treasures kept safe in your heart to cherish forever. Memories of your childhood come back and are so clear and vivid it’s like being young again. Colours seem brighter and more brilliant. Laughter seems part of daily life where before it was infrequent or didn’t exist at all. A phone call or two during the day helps to get you through a long day’s work and always brings a smile to your face.

In their presence, there’s no need for continuous conversation, but you find you’re quite content in just having them nearby. Things that never interested you before become fascinating because you know they are important to this person who is so special to you. You think of this person on every occasion and in everything you do. Simple things bring them to mind like a pale blue sky, gentle wind or even a storm cloud on the horizon.

You open your heart knowing that there’s a chance it may be broken one day and in opening your heart, you experience a love and joy that you never dreamed possible. You find that being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure that’s so real it scares you. You find strength in knowing you have a true friend and possibly a soul mate who will remain loyal to the end. Life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile. Your only hope and security is in knowing that they are a part of your life.”

― Bob Marley

Leaps of Faith

When I consider my past 56 years, most of the pivotal, defining moments in my life have been framed by struggle.  I wonder if this is just how Life is?  Is it the same for all?  Sure, there are some really great moments and events that happened in my life, but almost all were made great because of the struggle it took to achieve.  Is this the same for everyone?  Is this simply how we as humans are designed to interact with the Universe? 

I don’t know.  I probably won’t ever know.

Most seem to understand heartbreak, disappointment, fear, anxiety and the reward of hard work.  Songs are written about it. Books and movies are filled with it - - so I am guessing this struggle that has framed the bulk of my life is inherent in all humanity.

What got me considering all of this is the last payment I just made on a terrible debt I didn’t directly incur myself.  For the past four years I have been paying on this debt.  For four years I have done without in effort to get out from under this bloated monkey on my back.  Yesterday I added all my payments made on this debt:  $51,842 total was paid out of my pocket over the past four years. 

For some perspective, my first house cost $60,000 and I was given 30 years to pay that off.

How in the hell did I ever manage to come up with nearly $52K “extra” these past four years?!  It sounds impossible to me even today now that the deed is done.   Yet, when I really think about it, I know the answer.  I know how I managed to pull this off.  It was through Providence, as referenced in this well-known verse:

“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now.” *

Call it God.  The Universe.  Kundalini energy.   Whatever you call it - - I believe we all have access to it - - and when we tap into it, amazing things can happen.  I first stumbled across these words when embarking on completing my undergraduate degree while working full time and not having any extra money or time for school.  But, inspired by these words, I took a bold step and enrolled in my first class, and when I did, Providence moved with me.  None of what came my way would have ever happened if I didn’t take that first bold step of faith and register.  And, every semester for six years I had to repeat this same bold step, over and over, until my goal was realized.

I have had to remind myself to take this same bold step of faith with nearly every difficult decision or goal set before me.  I begin the task having no clear path or plan or resources - - yet taking that first step unleashes a powerful force of synchronicity, strength, perseverance and just plain dumb luck.  And I wonder, is it the same for all?  Do others experience Life the same?  Is Life one big struggle that we are expected to embrace and then allow the forces that surround us help resolve? 

 

I don’t know.  And I probably will never know.... and yet, I wonder?

* For many years these words were attributed to the German philosopher, Goethe.  But more recent research indicates it is  a conglomeration of writing by various authors including Goethe, Faust and Shakespeare.

The Ring

He bought a ring for me.  He put it on layaway and has diligently made payments on it for the past six months.   This is a modest ring, by jeweler's standards, yet is the most lavish piece of jewelry I have ever owned. It required planning and sacrafice for him to afford, making it all the more meaningful to me.  The ring is made of both white and yellow gold with a large blue sapphire.  His family raised show horses when he was growing up.  White, gold and royal blue were the colors of their stables.  These are his House colors - - and the same colors in my ring. 

We have decided to call it our  (drum roll, please).... "Committment" ring.



Yeah... commitment.
Feels good.
Looks pretty.

Alley Finds and Musings

Strolling through the alleys sometimes feels as though I’m invading my neighbor’s privacy. I see a part of their lives they don’t intend to display. Worn out furniture and appliances, forgotten swing sets, three legged dogs and discarded building materials abound. Sure. There is the occasional back yard that is all neat, tidy and well maintained. But this is the exception, at least in my neighborhood it is the exception. Backyards are like the family room, i.e., where real living takes place. My own backyard has a gas grill - - that doesn’t work; A broken flower pot I intend to mend one day; a stack of wood for when I go camping (although haven’t been in six years); and an old bicycle that was a piece of crap the day I bought it.

This jacket is too damn hot. Would selling helicopter rides over the lake be a good idea? Walking in the dirt is much easier on my sciatica.

 

How people discard their trash is telling.  There is the throw-everything-out-not contained-in-a bag and hope no furry animal gets into it before trash day.  A mish-mash of cans, boxes, wrappers and half eaten food dots their alley space week after week, while other houses have no trash to speak of until trash day.  For these houses, their trash appears in a securely covered trash bin, its contents never to be revealed.

She is home from work early today.  What’s her name again?  Danielle?  Darlene?  Marlene?  Crap. 

 

I’ve begun to carry some of my neighbor’s discards home as my treasure. 

So far, I’ve acquired this. 

Great for a small herb garden, don’t you

think?  I’ve never grown herbs before.
But now I have the pots… if I ever get the urge.

I've also acquired two of these:

 

 
 

















                                             In hopes of turning them into this:

 

I love the sky in the morning. 
Winter mornings it can be harsh and foreboding, while the evening’s sky is often lush with soft colors.  I listen as birds fly overhead, dogs bark, children cry, wind chimes tinkle. 

That picture frame is still there.  Hey look over there….. what’s that leaning up against the fence?

Forever Special

When he announced he wanted to take me window shopping, I knew what I wanted to think, but I dared not. When we pulled into the parking lot of the jewelry store, my stomach did a mini flip flop.  I felt myself dissociate.    

This was going to be one of those moments and I didn’t want to do or say anything that might tarnish the memory. I wanted to be excited; flush in love and gushing with happiness. I wanted these next few moments to play out like a television commercial, like a scene from a sappy movie.  But I felt none of these things.  Instead, my self-inventory revealed I wasn't prepared to be here.  My clothes were all wrong.  My fingernails were frayed and my gray roots were in desperate need of color. What disappointed me most was sensing our lack of innocence.  

He and I both know that rings and promises don’t guarantee a love will last.  Forever is a relative term. Make no mistake: we want this to be something that will see us to our graves.... but we've been here before.  The glow-y illusion of endless love is a bit lost on us, and I was sure everyone else in the store could see our truth. 

But we soldiered on. Maybe a little less giddy and a little less indulgent then the other couples in the store, but Hope carried us forward in our quest. We picked out a setting and then a stone. He put some money down to hold the ring, telling the salesperson he'd pay it off by July. Said he wanted to be able to call me his fiancée on our second anniversary of being together. 

A smile filled my face and I began to feel a little giddy - - a little indulged. I realized how much he wanted me to feel special. He wanted me to know I am loved. And, he wanted me to have something to see, to touch, to show others that I am his. He knew I needed this, and he made it happen. 

In the end, the moment was very special. A Forever kind of special.