Spirituality

A Sense of Cheryl

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Often when we went to see her neurologist and I talked to him about Cheryl seeing things or we saw the nurse practitioner and had similar conversations, he spoke of sensing a presence nearby. For the past few weeks that Cheryl has been away I have had that same sense of her nearby. It occurs mostly in the morning when I awaken. The sense of her is not always there but it is often there.

I admitted that to myself and others when we met for our support group meeting last night. The concept is hard to describe. There is something about being sensate to this world and being aware of our presence in it that implies to me an additional sense of soul. If there is a soul who is to say two souls cannot touch each other. They could become entangled and affect each other. Why not?

Yesterday I did not sense any of this presence of her. When I went to visit she was deeply asleep. No amount of talking or kissing of ears would awaken her. In the evening when I was home alone after my second visit I felt disconnected. Something was missing. I have no idea what but I felt or did not feel something. It was an emptiness and maybe a little anxiety because whatever it was, it was not there.

On this morning I felt her. I was certain she was awake and aware. When I went to visit, she looked at me and smiled. Maybe it is just fifty-three years of marriage. Maybe it is just a comfortable familiarity and an expectation that she will be with me in the morning. Perhaps it is just a pleasant dream of her that I am waking from. Perhaps it is what is referred to in the Star Wars movies as the force. I like to think there is an ethereal connection between us. We are eternally connected souls. Maybe a quantum connection exists.

Yesterday her end of the connection was off. Today it was not.

Carpe Diem. Carpe Nexum.

Blessed By Cheryl

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… and help us to get to the end of our journey. And help Paul get home.

She added this to the end of the meal blessing spontaneously. I was surprised. Lately she has been struggling with a few delusions about her deceased sister Janice. (Her conversation will start, “I talked to Jan when she was here…”) I resist telling her Jan died in some of the early covid deaths. She was very close to Jan in their childhood years. They slept in the same double bed right up until we were married. Sometimes she calls me “Jan” in the middle of the night as I make my way to the toilet.

This blessing did precede another discussion about Janice. To Cheryl, Jan is not gone. Perhaps that is a good thing. We live on in those who remember us. (A quote from someone else not me.) Cheryl’s mother lives on in conversation with Cheryl too.

When she pronounced this blessing at the end of the standard, bless us oh Lord and these thy gifts – it surprised me. Perhaps in her lucidity and presence for a minute I was transported to our younger lives when occasionally extra prayers were added. Her brother always adds … may the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace.

I did not ask what she meant by her prayer. Those thoughts are private to her and if she wants she will tell me. Throughout her continuing decline with dementia these small nuggets of situational awareness bubble up to the surface for me to ponder.

Help us to get to the end of our journey… (and your thoughts here).

God, I love her.

Carpe Diem

We Do Not Know

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I started a single line entry in my note book a few days ago with this single line – A thousand thoughts and prayers amount to less than a single action. It was a thought for the day from somewhere. I get a lot of newsletters and other useless email. This was included in one of them.

People say or write it to each other all the time, ” My thoughts and prayers are with you.” For those who are unable to write or say actual words there is the text-message hieroglyphic picture of praying hands which Anglos interpret as prayer but Hindus probably interpret differently. I do it too. Is it cynical to think of it as a shallow and ineffective response to a request for help of some sort? Caring and caregiving are two very different concepts.

The kitchen garbage can is full. VS. Please, John, take the garbage out. Most will think this a bad example but I do not. The first is a description of a condition. The second is a specific request to a specific person.

Most of us are not specific about any need that we may have for help. It is unusual to make a specific request. It is very typical to talk about our own situation or describe some condition that we are in. Few will volunteer to help without a specific request.

Grace and peace be to all of you who help Cheryl and I without a specific request from us. We love you dearly and thank you for your gracious help.

We do not know the other person’s situation. We are not walking in their shoes. We are not taking their path through life. Let us all listen closely and ask, “How can I help?”

Carpe Diem.

A Prayer for Self Compassion when Care Giving

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I was reading the St. Anthony Messenger today which is something I rarely do. This little prayer at the end of an article about self-compassion struck me as apt. It also reminded me of Mom and something thing she told toward the end of her life. She said, “I think I need a mother.”

What she meant was she was tired and needed to have someone else be in charge. We all need to give ourselves a break.

At the end of her life I took control of Mom’s finances and I did not always do what she wanted me to do. Sometimes I thought her ideas where crazy (not the right word) and told her so and later I would feel guilty about it. I needed her to be the mother.

Sometimes I think about Mom when I am helping Cheryl. In many ways Cheryl is slowly, ever so slowly wasting away like Mom did near the end of her life. Sometimes it makes me angry, sometimes sad. I am always trying for better and more compassion. Some days it is just plain hard.

Maybe I need to give myself a break.

Carpe Diem.

After Reflection

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When I started these thoughts on Sunday, I wrote that Sunday for me is a time for reflection. It is not the only time.

Thinking about the future of things while making the bed up and doing other needed chores for today — Qué será, será – Whatever will be, will be – an old Doris Day tune popped into my head. It made me smile. Was Elaine floating around today? Doris was a contemporary of Elaine’s in high school. Cheryl seems to sense her mother today. She has mentioned her a couple times in the present tense. This evening she asked if we could go visit her mom tomorrow. We will. She seems to know her mom is deceased. I did not remind her of that fact. Perhaps we will go visit her grave tomorrow and then find some lunch.

I wonder if I have planned well enough for our future. Whatever that may be. (Man plans, God laughs.)

Perhaps another meeting with the children is in order. I should make an agenda so that I do not forget anything.

Perhaps more reflection is needed.

Carpe Diem

Hospice

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A Hospice center is a quiet, peaceful and sad place.

The old meaning of a place of rest for travelers is an appropriate one. It is a place of rest between here and the after.

Cheryl and I have been visiting Fr. Gerry Witzemann.  He is dying. Gerry married us years ago or as Cheryl likes to say, officiated at our wedding. Her comment is more correct of course. Cheryl’s cousin started out as a Franciscan priest. When his mother became ill and elderly her wanted to do more for her. His order wanted him to go to the southwest to minister. He left the Franciscans to remain in the area and help his mother as best he could.

This is our fourth visit. Gerry is not ready. On our first visit he indicated that he was ready. Are any of us ready for afterward? Sitting with someone that you know will not recover turns one to introspection.

Soon and very soon…

Today his niece Sherri is here. Cheryl can talk to her cousin about things that she knows little about.  That part of her family lived close by when she was a child.  But as people grow older they spread out. Sherri’s mother Verna, Gerry’s sister passed away a couple weeks ago. Sherri took care of her mother for the last three years of her life, at home, with dementia. What a grace filled presence. She once got up to talk to her uncle, “It’s okay Uncle Gerry. Mom is waiting for you. So is grandma and grandpa.”

Sheri was in the army. She was a nurse and a nursing supervisor. She is a very pleasant conversationalist. Her husband passed away in 1993. They have no children. As a reservist she was called up and spent a year in Iraq in charge of the nursing staff in the hospital set up by the army. Gerry was the Witzemann family archivist. It was his hobby for years. He has lots of notes about the family history. Sherri now has his information.

We exchanged phone numbers.

Gerry won’t be with us much longer and that is sad. Many folks who come to visit him and he has many, are uncomfortable. That is understandable – and sad. Somehow it was neither sad nor uncomfortable with Sherri there. We were just there with Gerry.

Soon Gerry will be gone from us.That is why he is with hospice.

(Fr. Gerry Witzemann passed out of this existence at 5:30 am February 5, 2023. A Sunday the Lord’s day. How appropriate. May he rest in peace forever.)

Carpe Diem

Children are a Joy

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Even at somber occasions like funerals kids are a joy to the heart.

Verna’s funeral was today. (Cheryl’s cousin) Visitation was in church before the mass. Children playing hide and seek before mass in amongst the pews seems irreverent to many adults but not to me. The joy in their hearts shouldn’t be squashed or demeaned in any way. Some were wearing kitty ears. Some were wearing pigtails. All were dressed in their Sunday best because they were going to great Grandma’s funeral.

Funerals can be sad but not with kids around. One little guy spotted his Nana. He went to visit and scored a bag of fruit snacks. Nana is good for a treat. The same little guy needed the restroom in the middle of mass and upon the return decided to get back as fast as he could to Daddy. His father smiled and laughed with him when he returned. (Mom was more somber.)

Roman Catholic funeral mass liturgy is full of hope. There is a format but less ritual. The opening hymn was “Morning has Broken“. It is a good one full of hope and cheeriness. I always will hear Cat Stevens’ (Yusaf Islam) beautiful rendition of it in my head and because I like his music, the music of my youth, I know all the words.

Verna’s son, in his eulogy remarks, commented that someone had told him that he was now an orphan. I suppose one could say that since both of his parents had passed from this life but looking around the church full of family, children, grandchildren and friends, it seemed a poor term to describe this part of his journey through life.

Cheryl found and met with a couple cousins she had not seen for years.

She is making the snicker-doodles we started last night.

Carpe Diem.

Inspiration in Song and Poetry

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I often find hope and inspiration in song and poetry. Today while reading blogs of others I tripped over this from Filosofa’s Word. Kermit and his rainbow song.

To me and I suppose many, poetry and song are the same thing. A song with a melody that is catchy enables a poor poem to live. A sweet expressive poem often needs no accompaniment. Sometimes the music is first and inspires the poem. Sometimes the poem is first and inspires the melody.

A favorite poem Desiderata sort of sums up life. It has no metre. It follows a prose format. I find it to be calming to my heart. I have not read it for a while but reading Jill’s blog page about caused me to do that today.

Carpe Diem and keep connected to everyone around you.

7AM and a Funeral

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In an amazing amount of support for our dear friend Linda, Cheryl was able to fall asleep and stay asleep over night. She slept well and this morning she awakened to the 7AM alarm put out by the loud and annoying alarm clock. The past few weeks she has trained herself to ignore it.

Diana, Linda’s sister and very special best friend, left us last week. Visitation for friends and family happened yesterday evening in the afternoon. I thought that would be enough for Cheryl. On the way home from the funeral home we stopped for a bit to eat. Between mouthfuls of hamburger and a review of the dessert menu she told me that she wanted to go to the funeral tomorrow. I reiterated the fact that the funeral mass was across town and at 10AM meant that we would be leaving the house at 9AM. No matter she said she wanted to go.

I told Cheryl she would have to trust me that I would get her up and moving in time to make it. It is very important that you sleep well overnight, I told her. She said she would and she did.

This day is to remember Diana Sehlhorst. Diana came to our condo a couple times. Once after her husband Dan passed away Linda was having a conversation with her about moving to a smaller place. Linda did that after my cousin Frank died many years ago. Linda bought a condo as part of an old home overlooking the Ohio river. Ours is a newer building overlooking the trees in the back and a great view of the sunset across the valley from our parking lot in the front. Diana was looking at options. What she eventually selected was way different than both of those.

I wrote the event on our calendar and posted it on the morning erasable board. I got Cheryl up, helped her to toilet, found her comb and glasses. I went off to get Frosted Mini-Wheats as requested. I asked again if she wanted to go to the funeral mass. Cheryl insisted that she still wanted to go. We left in good time and Google maps guided us to the back of the church property because that was the swiftest way there (allegedly). I navigated my way around the block to the front of church.

Sitting in church waiting for the start of the ceremony I noticed that even at a sad event as a funeral some folks naturally smile. Even with despondency, tiredness and family sadness smiles appear. Little children make older folks smile. Diana had many grandchildren. Not everyone is capable of smiling at somber events. I think that I am not. Even in death there is rejoicing. The comment, “She’s in a better place.” is a tribute to death as a state to aspire to. Funerals sadden me.

We arrived in good time about twenty minutes ahead of the scheduled start. As the ceremony got started and Diana came by in the casket, Cheryl needed the restroom. As Diana came in we headed out to the restroom in back. And we forgot the purse.

At communion Cheryl told me she did not want to go up for communion. After the restroom we sat in one of the rear pews. St. Lawrence church is a long narrow building constructed in the old form of shaped like a cross. It would be a long walk. I went to communion , collected the purse on the way by our previous pew and returned with host. I broke it in two and gave her half. She said, amen.

Diana’s son at the end of mass delivered a small discussion of a lesson he learned from his mother in his impressionable early teen years; If everyone gives 100 percent it’s easier to meet in the middle. Words to live by, I think.

We came home and Cheryl had ice cream for lunch.

Carpe Diem.

Poetry and Other Prayer

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i carry your heart with me

By E. E. Cummings Copied from the Poetry Foundation

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
                                                      i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

A couple people help me occasionally with Cheryl when I need to do other things. Today I had planned to go visit our lab area at a nearby community college but that changed early this morning. I sent a text to Linda and told that the situation changed but she was still welcome to come visit for a bit. She came and we talked about her sister who is struggling with cancer and other things going on in her life.

In a different discussion Linda revealed that Frank (My cousin, her husband who passed out of this world a decade and a half or so ago.) kept a book by E. E. Cummings on his desk in addition to books by Robert Fulghum (It was on fire when I laid down on it, and others.). I vaguely recalled that Cummings was a poet but I was not sure so I looked him up on the world wide wait. I was proven correct and I went to a poetry website that I occasionally visit. Searching for some of his work this was the first poem displayed. (I think Frank was talking to me.)

Thanks Linda and Frank. I have found another poet who speaks to me. And thank you Poetry Foundation for being there when I need words to guide my heart.

Carpe Diem.