prayer

I am Still Learning

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It is possible to keep learning as one ages. I have found over the past few years that as I learned prayerful and careful concepts by taking care of Cheryl, I learned much about myself and my own motivations and along with that my own emotions. Today a new inner desire, perhaps need, has come to me.

Two days ago I received a copy of my collage of photos that I had printed on glass. I remember sitting up late two weeks ago searching for online special printing folks. Cheryl was still alive then. Why it became urgent to get that made at 12:30 AM is not important now. At the time it was an urgency for me. The following Monday morning she was gone.

In anxiety about not having it in time I found Northside Printing a local specialty printing business that specializes in specialty printing. I took my collage to them to have it printed on a big format to display at Cheryl’s service on Monday.

The more that I look at this collection of smile photos, photos of good times and family, I notice that the image of her in ill health and death fades from my memory. It is still there but what I think of first is her wonderful smile. It lights up my heart and helps me move past the Parkinson and dementia.

Often when someone dies, close friends and relatives create a memorial shrine. They do this to help them with the loss. I did not understand the importance of this action when I would see flowers and a cross along side the road but many years ago I found myself near the site of the Oklahoma City bombing and a fence filled with small stuffed animals left as a memorial to all the children killed in that tragedy. It saddened me at the time.

This morning I found myself hunting for the perfect place to assemble my thinking space to remember the good times and Cheryl’s smile.

I have started to do this on the left mirror of her dresser. That is the spot she would often stand to brush and comb her hair. She would pick up her hair spray and shake it a little. That would be my cue to get out of the room so that I did not smell like hair spray. The last step was to spray a little Chantilly into the air and walk through it. My grand daughter Virginia now has the leftover Chantilly. Cheryl likes that fact. She just told me while I was typing this story.

Carpe Diem. And carpe all of the special moments in your life. Later you will savor them as I am now.

Godspeed Cheryl.

They are in a Better Place

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I did not appreciate the truth in that comment until the last couple of days.

On Monday as I entered Cheryl’s room at Bridgeway Pointe, I was stricken immediately with a deep grief. Simultaneously with that emotion I was immediately relieved that she was released from her struggle with Parkinson’s and the dementia she experienced in her last years here.

I wanted her to be alive and with me. But not merely alive, I wanted her to be healthy.

I really miss her today. Today we plan her church memorial service. Today I will want to ask her opinion about various things, music, readings. I will close my eyes and ask and listen to her thoughts.

Stay with me today, Cheryl. We can get through it.

Carpe the love Diem.

Spring 2024 (a haiku)

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I have always been a fan of haiku. Seventeen syllables to evoke an emotional connection to the earth and our surroundings. I am also a fan of sonnet but the rhythm and rhyming sequence often escapes me. Haiku is free verse, an emotion, a summary. It is a painting in words to me. I like to experiment with it.

forsythia in bloom

new life persistent
provides much beauty on gray
wintertime background

Regardless of where we are or what we are doing or what trouble may concern us, Spring flowers appear in the landscape. Take notice of them. A new year of growth is here. Breathe in, breathe out, enjoy your surroundings. This year this lone forsythia left to grow wild in the woods behind our condo shows its beauty once again.

Carpe the landscape Diem!

Poetry and Meaning

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This poem by Shel Silverstein is from an anthology of poems and cartoons published by him with the same name in the 1970s. I do not remember how we got it but I have several books of poetry. Poetry can tell a story, elicit emotion, evoke a memory or simply make one think.

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/shel_silverstein/poems/14836

Hauntingly to me it is a metaphor for life. I do not know where the smoke blows black and the dark street winds but every life has rough spots. Childhood is full of hope and dreams and looking towards a bright future free from cares.

But growth and maturity catches us and distracts us from ourselves. It adds fear, anxiety and worries about things over which we have no control.

Looking back from the end of the sidewalk one sees with great clarity the chalk marks where direction was changed forever.

Or Shel may have been writing with something totally different in mind.

Carpe Diem.

Guilt or Grief?

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Is it guilt or is it grief?

This morning as I looked for pictures and other small items to turn Cheryl’s room at Bridgeway Pointe into hers, I cried again. I have been doing that more lately.

I feel a wide range of emotions as I think about this next phase of our lives that begins tomorrow.

My son and daughter-in-law visited her new space over the weekend after we moved furniture into it. I asked my daughter-in-law to look around a think about what pictures and wall ornamentation would be appropriate. I think that really needs a woman’s eye. (It is a stereotype. I know but it is what I think.) She and my son made a list and over the past couple days I have been stockpiling those items in Cheryl’s office area in the extra bedroom we have here.

While doing that, selecting pictures and reading old notes that Cheryl wrote to herself, I had several crying jags. Looking inward for a bit, I may be an emotional wreck for a time while we transition. Just writing that on paper makes me think about our life. It was great. It is less so these days with her disease being a focus for everything.

So, is it guilt that I feel unable to take care of her as I want to? Or is it grief that we have come to the end of a part of our time together? It is my anxiety. Is this best for her? And me? How will I do when she is being cared for by others? A wide range of emotions wash over me.

Is it grief or is it guilt? Why do I use the term guilt?

There is much to meditate about.

Carpe Diem.

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

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.

Clear and Calm

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Clear and Calm

The water is calm. The air is clear. It is a new day. Pizza Tuesday is here.

Every morning I spend a few minutes finding my center. Many call it prayer and I suppose it may be that for some but for me I think of it as centering.

Each day brings new experiences unlike the previous or the next. Starting in the center allows for movement in either or neither direction. One can go with the flow as the kids say.

This trip to the beach with family is centering me more than I originally thought that it could. Before we left I worried over small details and ultimately let go of some. Of course now that we are here I see a few details that should have occurred to me but did not.

Had I centered on Cheryl and her needs, I might have thought about some handy things that I have used to help her. I should have brought with us a couple more handicapped useful devices. I bought her transfer chair not realizing that her U-Step walker is just as important to her mobility. She needs her manicure kit to keep track of her finger and toenails daily. A handicapped toilet seat would have been a wonderful thing. (At home we have had seat height toilets installed. The toilet seat height is within an inch of the height of the transfer chair seat which is becoming more of the care partnering experience. )

But centering on her disease shifts the mood of the vacation holiday. It is a delicate balance between understanding and helping.

Centering myself at the beginning of each day provides a perspective and I deal things as they come up, not as how I want them to be or wished them to be.

Carpe Diem.

Sometimes In The Evening

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Late in the evening when I am able to sit quietly and think about where we are with this parkinson thing I start to realize how it is affecting me. I ponder and think about how it is affecting her. Self -doubt pursues me everywhere.

As Cheryl’s confusion and memory lost develop into her dementia, I wonder if she is aware of her disability. I wonder if she knows about what is going on around her. I wonder is if she is scared. I know it scares me. She has always been self reliant. She often resists help. She makes me feel intrusive and yet I know her mind is awash in confusion. (Do I actually know that? Is that a misconception?)

Yesterday we had lunch with our daughter and talked about their family’s planned trip to Florida. We talked about the logistics of getting six differing schedules aligned for a family vacation. I thought it might be nice to go to there with them. I held Cheryl’s hand and asked her if she would like to do that. She was reluctant but interested in visiting with other family. (If we went along would we be a burden to Anna’s family and their time off vacationing together?)

My daughter pointed out to me that I keep track of Cheryl’s health like a hawk. She asked if I was keeping track of my own health. I think I am. But when I drift into deep discernment, meditation, prayer and thought, I am unsure. I think back to times when Cheryl and I went off together somewhere sometimes for a week or so, sometimes with friends we met up with, sometimes for a weekend alone with just us to entertain each other. Once Cheryl planned a special surprise for my birthday, all the kids and grandkids showed up – it was a well kept secret. These are all wonderful memories and it makes me long for those times. I makes me attracted to the idea of vacationing.

I think Anna was trying to tell me that a vacation would be good. I agree with that thought and in this part of my life and our marriage it would be useful if I was able to get away from the day to day care for Cheryl. Maybe it is time to give that away and return to simply being a husband.

A vacation from caring seems attractive.

As I write this and think about that aspect it lifts my heart. Worry and anxiety are easier to bear if there is occasional relief. I think I need to work on that sort of relief.

It is late in the morning now and she is gently snoring in the bedroom. This is one of those days when the day just seems to be slipping away. I begin to worry that she may not sleep tonight. I wonder how a professional caregiver would respond. I talked to her earlier when I put her meds in the bathroom for later. As I sat on the edge of the bed and comforted her a bit she fell asleep, so, I got up and left her to rest some more.

I am not surprised that she is sleeping late. Although she did not disturb me overnight I think she slept fitfully. I slept my normal get up to go to the bathroom every 2-3 hours. Occasionally she was whispering a list of people out loud as she thought through the planning of a family reunion style gathering that our sister-in-law has taken over but Cheryl cannot let go of in her mind. No amount of “Tari is handling that” relieves her from thinking about logistics. I often hope that Tari will spontaneously call and talk about it but I recognize that she probably will not. (I sent her a text message and requested her to call Cheryl. I will wait and see if she does.)

I mentioned – return to simply being a husband. I big part of that idea is not doing Cheryl’s things for her.

Many things wander through my thoughts as I checked on Cheryl again and got cleaned up, brushed my teeth (now the coffee tastes funny) and put on clothes for the day. I can hear my mother’s voice as she told me years ago, “I do some of my best sleeping in the morning.” When Mom was still alive if I visited her before noon, she might be just barely awake. Once or twice I made her breakfast and sat with her for awhile. I start seeing that happen with my wife. (I suppose I do not want that for us. I want us to be young and vibrant or, at least, think we are.)

I know that she wants to go to church services tonight. It is just before Easter. Easter is a big deal for Cheryl. She has been talking about coloring eggs for several weeks. I have extra eggs in case I cannot get out of doing that. It is getting late, so, as a husband I will get her up and listen to the complaint while I do that.

She is up now at 11 AM. I made her favorite breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon with grape jelly toast. She told me that after she was done with breakfast she wanted to lie down again.

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.