Tuesday, April 30, 2013

After school treat


Does anyone want to volunteer to tell my babes how lucky the are to come home to this:




The house smells heavenly.....

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Saturday, April 13, 2013

A month

A month has gone by since my Dad's passing. He lived with early onset Alzheimer's and he was finally free of this disease on March 12, 2013. I was fortunate to be with him when he passed. I was even more fortunate to have had the sweet opportunity to love and serve him over the past several years.

You see, my Dad has always taken care of me. He was strong, loving, wise. Years ago when his mind starting failing him, it was hard to see. We grieved the loss of Dad in many small ways on an almost continuous basis. Our grieving process was long and painful. Especially in the beginning when he would have moments of clarity and we would be hopeful to get our Dad back.

This past year the disease took a toll on him, and took it fast. We put him in a specialty memory care home. We didn't want to loose Dad, but we also knew he couldn't be happy in his prison of Alzheimer's. Silently I looked forward to the day he could be free of his body and mind that no longer served him. Strangely enough, when the day came and Dad departed this earth, the relief I felt was minuscule compared to the pain of saying goodbye, for reals, to my sweet Father.

My mom and sisters were all surprised at how hard it was for us to go thru this when we had in so many ways felt prepared for it. But loss hurts. And Dad was a great man.

A month later I still feel numb. I pass his care home almost daily and think about him, thinking I should stop in. I wonder how his fellow patients at the home are doing. I wonder what he's up to. It still feels surreal. Like I just haven't visited him in a while. I don't feel like a daughter without her daddy.

I've slowed down a lot since his passing. I've pulled into myself. I have a few very wonderful friends who have taken it upon themselves to check in with me. When I say I'm fine, they know better and simply make sure I know they are there.

I've become more gentle with myself. Not beating myself up or holding myself to my usual standards. Not that I've let all things go, but I don't feel I need the extra pressure of my inner voice pushing me. I will get to my items on my lists. If I spend a little time thinking and pondering, I will decide what is important and needs to be done right away.

I'm not sure when or if life will ever get back to normal. I have been focusing on what is around me and what is important for me right now. And that is the right thing for me to do.

I love you Dad. I miss you.


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Sunday, April 7, 2013

Needing an advocate

I was an early swimmer. We had a pool in our yard, which prompted my parents to get us into swim lessons quite early. I think I was around 3.

I love the water. I wish I could swim every day. Or at least soak in the water. I'm most at ease near water, and when it's time to relax or vacation, I plan it around ocean, river or lake destinations.

Since I was a early swimmer and summer swim lessons were the norm, I was used to the first day evaluations. I can not remember how old I was, but being younger than most, I was being evaluated to graduate up to the deeper part of the pool. I could not wait. Not only would I learn more, but I was leaving all those babies behind... Those babies who blew bubbles and stood on the risers in the water.

It was my turn to swim the width of the pool and I got off to a bad start, swallowed a bunch of water, started to panic, and was plucked out of my spot and put back with the babies. My heart broke. I did not belong in this amateur group. Plus my best friend advanced and I did everything with her, how could I survive my swim lessons without her.

Mom was sitting in the viewing area and watched the drama unfold. She probably saw the heartbreak on my face. She was my advocate. She was my hero. She asked the instructor to give me another shot, which wasn't typical or easy to do in the chaos of first day swimming evaluations.

Of course I rocked it and advanced. Mom had her reasons: she wanted to see me advance. She also wanted her money paid for lessons to go for something productive. But mostly she wanted to ease my heart ache. The only way she could was to be my advocate and ask for what I couldn't ask for myself.

Now, I am an adult. I am able to ask for things I need and want. When my heart is hurt and I need an advocate, I usually am able to play my own. But there are days when I simply want someone perceptive enough, someone who knows me enough to see me and advocate for me. I miss that.


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