family

Florida Again

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After a few months, I find myself in Florida again without Cheryl. In June of 2023 when Cheryl and I came to the Florida panhandle with Anna and her family it was fun and it was exhausting. This time Cheryl is not with me. This time Joyce is often driving and I am able to watch the scenery. This time is different.

Last summer may have been our last trip together. This trip is not the first one without her that I was not going to work but this trip feels different. I cannot put my finger on what is different. Is it because Cheryl is not with me and it is the nation’s designated vacation spot? Surely that’s not it. I am visiting family with family. Is it because I am not worried or concerned about her care? As I was visiting with my sister in the previous October? I am still analyzing those thoughts.

Judy’s pool view

This trip started as an invitation to participate in an informational weekend about  the activities supported by the Southern Poverty Law Center  founded years ago by Julian Bond et al.

The weekend’s events culminated in jubilee commemoration of Bloody Sunday 59 years ago on the march from Selma to Montgomery Alabama.

Edmund Pettus Bridge

My impression of Selma is that it is remarkably poor. This impression is supported by empty and boarded up storefronts and the slow or non-existent recovery from the tornado that passed through a couple years ago. Whatever the vision is in the leadership of the great State of Alabama may be for the future it seems to have left the the small village of Selma behind. It is a pretty area. The few pictures I took of the river area show this fact and Selma has a grand boulevard in the center of it. There is a Walmart Super Center less than two miles from the town center. Big box stores tend to kill off the core of little towns. It seems to be happening here.

The bridge crossing happened on Sunday and after we walked across the bridge and completed wading through the crowd on the other side taking selfies and deciding what to do next and generally recrossing the bridge on the sidewalks back to the carnival atmosphere a block off the side of the boulevard, we found our bus back to Montgomery. That evening we went to a nice local restaurant for dinner. Fifty-nine years ago many of those bridge crossing folks spent the night in jail or the hospital somewhere. It is quite a contrast, then and now, but the poverty is still there.

The next day we were off to Port St. Joe, Florida to visit with our nephew Mark and his wife Leslie. Their little vacation home in Port St. Joe is set up perfectly no TV, no WIFI,  just conversation. Port St. Joe is a sleepy little town with the distinctive title of original capital city of the State of Florida. Leslie grew up there. Mark and his family took us to a raw bar. I later found out this is another name for a sea food restaurant.

As I conversed with Mark it struck me that he is very much like his father, my brother. In addition to resembling his father physically, his mannerisms, his focus, his jesters, I felt like I was talking to a younger version of my brother. I have not seen Mark since Mom’s funeral and we did not talk at length at the funeral.

Cheryl came flooding back into my mind. I looked around and in my head she told me that if she could have been there she would have sat near Leslie and the kids to talk and catch up. Family and conversation is very important to her. Sitting with Mark, my sister Joyce and his family, I realized how much I was missing Cheryl. She would have enjoyed this trip very much. And the additional aspect of lived history would have had her telling about this trip over many dinner conversations into the future.

The next day we continued on to visit with Mark’s mother, my sister-in-law, Judy. My brother left this Earth in May of 2020. Sadly, because of the COVID travel restrictions, Cheryl’s inability to travel easily and other factors, we were unable to attend services for my brother Bill. Judy showed Joyce and me a wonderful memory book put together by the funeral services company as well as the program for Bill’s celebration of life. I picked up the book and looking through it had to catch myself as I wanted to turn and show it to Cheryl. (I was missing Cheryl again.)

This was perfect; family, history, hiking, a beach nearby, Judy’s beautiful house at the end.

When I got home in the early evening my son Scott picked me up at the airport. As we rode along my only thought was to drive over and visit Cheryl. She was in bed already so I kissed her goodnight and returned home to eat something and consider various aspects of the trip, my relationship to my own family and enjoy sleeping in my own bed.

Carpe the road trip Diem.

I Remember

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Cheryl and I met at a picnic. It was a blue moon in August of 1966 specifically, but that’s not really the story. The story is what we have been together since.

High school friends of mine put together a picnic with friends of hers. Cheryl went because they invited her. I went because my friends invited me.

I found myself sitting alongside of her at a picnic table in a dark picnic area in Winton Woods. Both of us were wondering how these guys were going to get the hot dogs and stuff off of the grill when they hadn’t brought any tools. So I kind of jumped into the breach to fix the problem and scooped the hot dogs up with a couple of paper plates. Cheryl later told me that she thought that action was really clever.

But that is not the important thing that I wanted to tell you about that night. Our meeting was a totally random event in both of our lives then and since that night (58 years ago) we have been together.

It’s sort of amazing when you think about it. I mean in high school, of course when she went back to ICA in Indiana, I dated a couple of other girls, but I didn’t really get serious or even interested in anybody else except for her. Four years almost to the day after we met on that picnic, we got married. I finished up school at Miami. We had kids. She supported me at Miami. I supported her at U. C. The kids grew up. We supported them and they moved out. We had a few years in there when we sort of enjoyed (you know) empty nesting, a few trips, just enjoying life and living. We had two fairly well paying careers and enjoyed a little bit of travel and some other things like that. It’s been a really good life. It’s been a really good life and she is gone mentally and I don’t know where to put that. I do not know where to put that in my heart. I don’t know where to put that in my head. I don’t know what to do about that period. I struggle with that pretty much every day.

She is physically still here but mentally not so much in the last few weeks. Probably not very far from now in a few weeks she will physically be gone, too.

I just don’t know how to think about all this. I ponder this all the time.

I do not know what is next but I do so wish there was a manual. She is still here, but she is not here.

At first it made me feel a little bit guilty, moving her to memory care but I’ve come to realize that if she was still home with me, I would really not have a good handle on being able to help her and keep her clean and and feed her and all those other things that go along with the situation that she’s in at Bridgeway Pointe.

I don’t have guilt feelings anymore. I tell myself this but maybe those feelings are still with me. At first I had sort of thought that it felt like I was giving up or giving in or throwing our life away or whatever you want to say. I but I don’t really quite know how to express that emotion, but we have lived together for so long. It did not and still does not feel right. Perhaps it never will.

And it’s so hard to see her go. I just don’t know what to do about it. I just don’t know what to do about my emotions. I can’t really put them in my pocket. I mean, I can for a while but then they just sort of spontaneously come out every now and then. I don’t worry about that. I just sort of stop for a minute when I get all choked up and I just simply can’t talk, but I’m getting better at it passing by that that deep sense of loss. I don’t know how else to say that. It is just a really deep deep sense of loss.

I love her and she will always be part of me. I have and we have lots and lots of good memories. I am not sure that she has any memory, sometimes it’s hard to tell.

It is very hard to tell where and what she remembers especially towards the end of this past year. She seemed to regress more and more into her childhood. And I don’t know how else to say that. In the middle of the night when I would get up and go to the bathroom, she would wake up a little bit and say, “Jan where are you going?” Sometimes she would say, “Dan?” (you know? )

These past few years have been a trial. I will not remember her this way.

I will remember the trips to the Cincinnatian Hotel.

I will remember Sunday matinees at the Playhouse in the Park.

I will remember the cruise trips.

I will remember the hiking trips in various parks and the looks on the boy scouts’ faces when we encountered each other five miles from the trail head in Green Bow State Park in Kentucky. And how great lunch tasted when we got back to the lodge after our hike.

I will remember pancakes with fresh maple syrup in the morning looking for the ladies room in Hocking Hills.

I will remember the joy on her face when she graduated college.

I will remember the tired joy on her face after the birth of each child.

I will remember the trips to Myrtle Beach and during those to Charleston.

I will remember a Christmas Eve a long time ago when she insisted that I open her gift to me and all I wanted to do was go to bed and sleep. She had made me a shirt. She was a wonderful seamstress and proud of it.

I will remember the trips with friends to Door County and the Grand Canyon.

I will remember walking to the neighborhood pub after work to enjoy dinner she did not cook and a glass of wine.

I will remember her herding the kids to church on Sunday morning.

I will remember cold weekend mornings alongside soccer fields.

I will remember her excitement when Anna announced that our first grandchild was coming.

I will remember how she cared for me and our family through life.

I will remember many things but I will not dwell on the last few weeks of her time here.

I love you Cheryl. You will always be with me. I carry your heart in my heart. I will remember your smile.

Parkinson’s disease sucks. (Today I do not feel much like carpe-ing the damn diem.) She is slipping from me and I feel sad.

Ice Cream

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This morning my thoughts turned to ice cream. Cheryl and I often went out for ice cream in the evening. In two smaller suburbs there was a Dairy Queen in one – she likes Oreo Blizzards – and Aglemessis Bros. which is a small local ice cream and confectionery. She likes black raspberry chocolate chip.

There is a very good story about the second store. many years ago when Cheryl was still working one of her coworkers would have what she referred to as “Grandma’s Camp”. She invited the grandchildren to stay with her for a week in the summer individually so that she could get to know each child without the distraction of the others and the bigger family around that would be there during big family gatherings. Cheryl decided that this was a good, bordering on great idea.

Audrey, Anna’s third child, stayed with us during this episode of our life adventure when she was about seven years. I am unsure exactly how old she was but it suffices to say she was a young child. She was a very early reader which became apparent when I took her with me to visit my mother at the independent living situation she was staying in to help organize her meds for another week. Audrey read some of the names of the medications and was asking me what various ones were for. Mom took a bunch of stuff.

Afterward I took her to Aglemessis Bros. for ice cream. This store has an old fashioned soda fountain style counter in it that you can sit at and watch the folks (soda jerks) dish up the ice cream and sodas. We sat there. There is a big board on the wall listing all of the flavors and other less important information about price. There is also a menu of sundaes and other goodies in addition to a display case for various chocolate delights and chunky chocolate all sold buy the pound. It is a chocoholic addict’s downfall. Audrey looked up at the board and said to me, ” Grampaw, they have chocolate chocolate chip!” I responded yes they do and you can probably get hot fudge on top if you want that also. I did not know at the time that my granddaughter was a chocolate fan like me. (It makes me smile inside when I recall this experience.)

I think she got chocolate sauce on her two scoops of double chocolate chip ice cream as did I and we sat with satisfaction as we ate and watched the activity behind the counter. I suppose that is why I particularly enjoyed bringing Cheryl to the Aglemessis store. It always reminds me of this story. I think tomorrow perhaps I will see if I can bring Cheryl some black raspberry chocolate chip ice cream from there.

From a precocious, chocolate loving, early reading, intelligent young girl to a beautiful young woman, when I think of Cheryl and I going to Aglemessis Bros. for ice cream, I think of Audrey and chocolate chocolate chip.

Carpe Diem.

Dance Competition

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A small gymnasium with loud music and time to wait, the pre-dance show is boring. I am glad that I have a book. I am writing facetious nonsense.There is no pre-dance show. It is loud music, unnecessarily so, in a small gymnasium.

The girls on all the teams are enthusiastic and passionate about their routines. As a biased grandfather watching these kids perform I think my granddaughter did the best but two concepts interfere with that assessment, familial relationship and ignorance of the judgment criteria. A rubric would be helpful with the latter. There is no help for the former.

I did enjoy the afternoon with my daughter’s family. Earlier in the day Cheryl had been sleeping soundly in her recliner. I sat with her for a time. She did stir when I talked to her. She did not stir when I kissed her cheek. She did not stir when pulled the blanket from beneath her head and covered her with it. She did not stir when I kissed her good-bye and left to have some lunch before the ride to the competition.

Jazz Dance

Cheryl was safe and taken care of. I went to watch the dancers without concerns for her wellbeing. I thought about how she would have liked to have been there. I made a video to show her later.

Cheer

Carpet Diem

Christmas Season 2023

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(A beginning of a new life and the ending of an old one.)

This holiday season marks the beginning of a new phase in our life. “We’re in this love together” popped up on the Spotify playlist as I started to write my thoughts. Cheryl and I are in this love together and forever.

For the past few weeks I have been organizing, sorting and cleaning our living space. I have gotten rid of multiple copies of old emails and address lists. I have meticulously gone through rubber banded stacks of old Christmas cards and retrieved pictures, snapshots and photographs. The work has been tiring and emotionally draining. Old photos bring back fond memories and nostalgic remembrances of good times. And some old photos do not. Those photographs distract me into detective mode. (Who is that person? Why were we there?) Even with those questions hovering in the background of my mind I think, look how young we were once. How did we get here?

This year has been a tumultuous one with both love and mental chaos, physical challenges, extra equipment and extra medical help as Cheryl’s Parkinson and dementia seemed to overwhelm her and me. Her good days became fewer. Now, today, Thursday, December 28th, my sister Laura’s birthday, Cheryl is staying in the Harbor memory care section of Bridgeway Pointe. How we got here is a story about the agonizingly slow progression of Parkinson’s disease and the mental toll it takes on many of its victims. It is also a story of how it slowly came to me that although I thought my love could conquer all, there is strong evidence that extra hands and expertise were needed. It is a story for another day.

This holiday period is very different. About two weeks before the Thanksgiving Day holiday Cheryl moved into the Harbor. A week and a half later as I took her to David’s house for Thanksgiving dinner, she was resistant to getting out of Bridgeway Pointe to go to David’s house. After that experience I told the kids and extended family that any more celebrations we had to take to Cheryl. We should not expect her to go to them. (It is too hard for her and for her husband.) Cheryl had settled into Bridgeway Pointe in a fashion that I had not expected.

The rest of the holiday dinners and celebrations I attended without Cheryl by my side. I visit Cheryl every day. The kids visit on many days. Her brothers and sisters and friends visit when they can. It is different. I do not know what I was expecting or what I want it to be, all that I know is, that it is different. There is something missing for me at the celebrations. I think that something is Cheryl’s spirit, her smile, her glee watching the kids open presents, catching up on family or simply delight in the moment. “Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone?” – these words are from an old song.

From here at this moment in time we begin anew. I do not know what our new life will bring but it will be better for us.

Carpe Diem.

Early Morning

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It is not really very early but Cheryl is still sleeping. I have given her her first meds of the day and she lays back down for a bit to let them work on her. I crush her meds and stir them into vanilla pudding, some of that stuff parents put in their kids lunch. This is a new thing and for the past couple mornings it seems to be working.

My trip out west to visit my sister has planted a bug in my mind about tracking down cousins that I have not chatted with since childhood. I do not know where that came from but maybe it has to do with thoughts about family and as families spread connections are lost. Maybe the fact that a couple of my same last name cousins came to visit with Joyce and me in Oregon. Maybe I just do not know.

Nevertheless, I reached out to a couple cousins who are not the same last name. I will see where this goes.

Carpe Diem

Day Two

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Cheryl slept pretty good last night. One of my many anxieties about this vacation trip is how well she will sleep at night. In retrospect it is a constant concern. Like everyone she is much better health and attitude wise with a good night’s rest. Parkinson merely makes that harder to achieve with regularity. Stopped overnight in Cullman Alabama she seemed to sleep okay. We snuggled for a bit until she was asleep or seemed so to me. I moved quietly to the other bed afterward.

Buckee Hat

This morning I was up at 6 AM but we are on CDT now. Cheryl awakened at 7 AM. I helped her toilet and get cleaned up and change clothes. I thanked the Almighty for the smooth start to the day. We rolled down to the breakfast area to se what we could find. I found scrambled eggs, toast and bacon for Cheryl. Her favorite these days and as she started to eat and proceeded to have a coughing fit, I cursed the Almighty for interfering with Cheryl’s need for sustenance. That was a joke of sorts but lately when she eats breakfast she suffers through a coughing fit until the phlegm drool gets down her throat and her esophagus gets its act together and she can swallow okay again. She eventually settled down and drank a little green tea.

Day two of the trip is off and running. Google says that if we do not stop we will be on the beach at 2PM. And in the shameless advertising of places to stop, LaQuinta in Cullman has executive suites- their term- that are pretty nice if you are traveling with a less than ideal mobility person.

Carpe Diem.

Beach hat

Serendipity

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One of our regular social gatherings is Pizza Tuesday. (Yes, I know it is supposed to be taco Tuesday.) Most times it is just a few of us, maybe 3 or 4. Occasionally Cheryl’s brothers and sister show up. Last evening in a moment of serendipity her cousin and many of his family showed up to celebrate their father’s birthday. Cheryl got a hug from her cousin that she really has not talked to for years.

Bob’s second wife died about a year ago and I took her to the funeral mass. We did not stay for the gathering after because Cheryl was not doing well that day.

Cheryl did not talk much to Bob. For one thing he was there to celebrate with his family in the big front room. For another although he may know of Cheryl’s on going battle with parkinson and dementia, he may not know how long it takes for her to get a thought out. Sometimes her thought is gone before she can vocalize it. I have been watching this for years. At home I merely wait.

Others have a hard time waiting so they want to guess what she is trying to say. Forming thoughts and then assembling complete sentences, keeping track of any names that need insertion is a hard task for Cheryl these days. I only help when I am very sure of who or what she is talking about and even then I can be wrong. Parkies can change topics in a heartbeat.

Last evening, however, was special and when we got home she wanted to do two things. Get Bob’s telephone number so she could call him and talk. And sit outside for awhile and watch the clouds go by to expose the moon and the planets. Venus is very bright and the moon is several days past its crescent phase. Watching the night sky lately seems peaceful for her.

I asked her siblings for Bob’s phone number. She now has his phone number for when she wants to call him.

As we left the restaurant her brother, as he often does, said to me thank you for taking care of my sister. My inner thought to him is I love her dearly and we made a vow to each other fifty years ago. What I say to him is “you’re welcome” and that bothers me sometimes. Some day I will pour my heart out to him. He is a good and kind man.

Carpe pizza Tuesday Diem

Photo by Kasumi Loffler on Pexels.com

Cheryl only likes pepperoni on her pizza but last night was a bruschetta night.

From Edie… a Facebook Friend

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From her post

This is not my writing but Edie captured my thoughts with this post on Facebook. She and her husband are in about the same place as Cheryl and I with Parkinson’s Disease.

“Accepting what is…
Choices and Avoiding
The Sting of Defeat…”

There isn’t a day that I don’t
Experience either a “slap myself on the forehead” moment, err on the side of caution, spout off an opinion or best of all, make my fella laugh or smile.

Some days are just rough. They’re tough!

Others?
Well…there are good times; a smile across the room, a look of total understanding and the knowledge of who we are currently (and who we once were together. We’re still one.

This is a tough week for me personally. Our 45th anniversary is Saturday, Oct.24th. Tommy has been clear headed lately with some delusions.

A while back he mentioned several times that he wanted things to be “like they used to be” with our family.
Life evolves and nothing remains the same.

As we all know life is not static. We’re a close family, but the grands have grown up, moved away and their parents are busy too. We used to have UFC Fight Nights, BIG holiday gatherings etc., and even no reason to get together functions. We gathered often and now? Not as much. Parkinson’s causes loneliness.

PD has changed all of us in various ways. We’re each caught in the midst of love, losses and our own feelings and responsibilities in life aside from Parkinson’s and Dementia.
It’s inevitable.
It happens.

We’re all worse for the wear because it’s a ruthless disease. But making, (hopefully the right) choices, accepting the realities of PD and Dementia, and preparing proactively for change has helped me to avoid the sting I mentioned at the beginning of this post.

Our CNAs have given me the “breathers” that I have long needed to separate myself from too much of anything that could bog me down when I’ve been up to my ears In either a struggle with Tommy, a medical issue, the VA or my own emotions. As caregivers we have lists of to do’s a mile long that threaten to swamp us.

While I’ve been planning our family gathering for our immediate family members, I’ve pulled out photos of us throughout the years, and of course…I cried.

I cried because I love Tommy passionately. I miss him, but I accept him as he is too. I do love him even more today than yesterday. Some days we get on each other’s last nerve too!!!

I cried because as much as I have tried to keep PD and Dementia out of our lives, it has, like a bee being threatened, taken a bite out of us and stings like crazy!

When I finally came to terms with accepting the transition from normal to cognitive issues and delusions, I had another epiphany. I came across a photo of one of the Santorini stones I paint. Painted in the body of the bee are the words, “Let It Bee.” Lord knows, I’m trying!

Moving forward.
My menu for Saturday consist of Tommy’s favorites and the carrot cake is my favorite. The wine, Moscato-Asti is our favorite.

I pre ordered (from local businesses) everything so I wouldn’t have to prep or cook. I’ll decorate the cake with a topper that says “We Still Do” and edible FALL leaves. I’m excited and a little off kilter too.

Having the family near will be centering for us both.

The menu is planned and is “enough”. It will be truly complete
when our group comes together with gratitude around the Kynard House table.

I wish you all could join us! I’ll post pics later.

Edie and Tommy

We too celebrated a milestone anniversary this year. We have been married 50 years. Sometimes I am disappointed that our retirement activity is centered around Parkinson’s Disease and other days I have come to understand that it may be the reason for being.

Our children organized a wonderful celebration. For that I am very thankful.

50 year cake

Anna also put together this collection of snippets of various sources.

We were young and skinny then.

… 50 years later here we are. Happy 45th Edie and Tom – May the sun always be shining on you and your family.