Goin' to See My Babies

My father has a tender heart after all.  Who would have guessed that?  We were talking about them getting a small dog because they both grew so attached to Kita and I think that it would do them both a lot of good.  My father started to say, "Yeah, but what happens if he runs out the door like Kita did?  All I did was open the door a little and she went running out.  And now all I hear is you (me) screaming 'No, no!' and I can't get that picture out of my head!"  I felt like a priest in a confessional - it was very weird.  I said again, "Dad, I don't blame you for Kita's death - you didn't know and she was so fast you couldn't catch her.  But I still think you and mom should get a small dog because it's just so dead around here."  Maybe I shouldn't have said "dead," but what I meant was that a dog gives "life" to a household and something else you can focus on instead of yourself.  I watch my dad and he is depressed.  He has also admitted to a neighbor friend that he is afraid of dying.  He will sit in his office with the computer on the desktop page, with his legs propped up on the desk and he is just staring at the computer.  He needs to love something other than himself. 

I had sent a letter to the editor of the newspaper here and my mom got the paper today, saying that the letter was in the paper.  My dad read it and I think it really touched him although he didn't say much.  It was a short, but to the point letter that I have copied and pasted here:

"On Friday, December 2, 2011, in the middle of the morning, my little dog and best friend, Kita, was struck and killed by a motorist driving fast on S. Gondola Drive in Venice. She ran out the door through a small opening and as much as I tried to get her back, she kept going toward the street. I was shouting and walking towards her when the car hit her, so they must have seen me shouting, as well as her, as she was all black. It would have been impossible to not have at least seen me. The motorist never stopped - they just kept on going. There was another motorist coming by the same way at the same time and they slowed down but they didn't stop. They saw me pick her dead body up and carry it into the house. Blood was coming out of her mouth and head, her tongue was hanging out and her eyes were open and glazed over. Unfortunately, I will never forget that picture. It would be nice if the person who hit her would at least apologize for not stopping. There's nothing that can be done now, but apparently this isn't the first time a dog has been hit and killed on this street. There are speed bumps in the road, but that doesn't stop most motorists from speeding. Mine and my parents' hearts are broken because someone was too distracted not to see her or me and then just drive away. If they didn't see her, they must have heard and felt her because she went right under their tires. Please, please slow down on these streets. And if you happen to see a dog or cat or any animal for that matter, PLEASE slow down and stop if you have to. That animal is somone's best friend."

 

So when I return in January, I will do searches at the shelters in this area to find a little dog who is already potty trained for my parents.  I think they can find the perfect dog in one of the shelters.  I am a huge advocate to try and locate dogs in shelters first, because most of those dogs have been abused or neglected and desparately need a home.  I'm not against buying dogs from reputable breeders, but I am against buying dogs from pet stores and puppy mills.  Puppy mills are horrendous places and pet stores get their puppies from these mills.  Just thinking about it, makes me crazy.

 

So I am leaving tomorrow for home and I'm really looking forward to it.  I have missed my kids and my grandkids and looking forward to spending Christmas with them.  I will be returning to Florida in the middle of January, and hopefully everything will be well with my parents.  If that is the case, I will move back home permanently, probably in February.

 

My parents are taking me to the airport tomorrow - I'm driving there and my mom will drive home.  She's been driving locally here and doing fine - a little slow, but fine.  I'm a little concerned about her driving home, but she will not take the highway because she says she's not ready for that yet.  She will however, take 41 all the way home in busy traffic.  She can see ok, whereas my father can't see in front of his nose.  But he will feel the need to yell at her if he thinks she's not doing something right, so it should be a fun-filled ride back home.  I won't be there to referee, but my mom can stand up to him when she wants to.  All she has to do is give him one of her "Eunice-glares" and they'll be just fine. 

Short True Story

My parents' neighbor and friend came over last night and we all talked for awhile.  Her name is Mrs. Crowe and I say "Mrs. Crowe," because we were taught as kids to call all adults Mr. or Mrs. so and so - never by their first name.  I guess it was ok to call them by their first name if they weren't married - I don't remember that.  So it's still ingrained in me to use these titles, but there's really nothing wrong with it - I actually think it can be respectful.  Anyway, she told us a true story that I thought was entertaining, and I imagine it wasn't at the time, but I want to re-tell it now for your amusement.  Besides, you don't know these people so no one will ever know the difference.

We'll call them Ed and Zelda.  They were neighbors of my parents for many years.  Ed was practically deaf and you had to really shout in his face for him to hear you.  One day, he was having a conversation with another almost-deaf neighbor and neither one of them could hear what the other one was saying, but they both had a complete conversation anyway.  Zelda was a weird, but nice lady according to my dad.  He really liked her, so that says something about her.

Mrs. Crowe was telling us that Ed died before Zelda.  Mrs. Crowe knew them very well because she was their guardian.  Zelda was kind of nuts and Ed couldn't hear, so the combination was a mess.  So when Ed died, Mrs. Crowe went to the funeral home on the day of the funeral and brought Zelda with her before the visitation.  Ed was lying in the casket as most dead people do.  Zelda came by his casket and yelled, "That's not my Ed!  I know what MY Ed looks like, and that's not him!"  Mrs. Crowe looked in the casket and sure enough, it wasn't Ed, but someone who looked like him.  She hurried over to the funeral director and told him the situation and he was moritifed.  Apparently, there were two dead bodies at the hospital and they sent the wrong one.  The other man, who would be Ed, was cremated.  So the guy in the casket was some unknown person.  I was dying laughing at this point.  Mrs. Crowe said that there wasn't a thing they could do, so they went ahead with the funeral, pretending it was Ed in the casket.  Zelda must have forgotten that it wasn't Ed, because as the priest and the funeral director were bringing her into the ceremony, she screamed out, "Ed, you $#*&@%!  Why did you die before me??"  At that point, I couldn't stop laughing - I pictured it all and I thought it was hysterical.  So Mrs. Crowe said that some unknown guy is buried in Ed's burial plot, and then Zelda passed away, so she is next to him. 

 Wow - you can't make this stuff up.

Driving Instructor

I let my mom drive yesterday for the second time and she actually did pretty well.  I felt like a driving school instructor and kept telling her to stay in her lane.  She wanted to hug the middle line and I kept saying, "Move over, Move over! You're in the middle of the road!"  "Oh," she said and moved a little more to the side of the road.  When she turns, she turns the wheel little by little, it was driving me crazy.  I said, "Mom, take the wheel and pull or push it all the way around, because otherwise it will take you all day to make one turn."  "Oh," she said.  We drove into a parking lot and I told her to parallel park in front of the Goodwill store so they can come out and pick up the bag she brought.  She had a difficult time doing this, but finally did, almost hitting a woman who was walking in back of her and who she didn't see.  First I yelled at my mom, "There's someone in back of you!" "Oh," she said.  Then I shouted out the window, "Watch where you're walking, lady!"  I know, I know, not my finest moment.  But it's better than what I wanted to yell.

Next, we went to her doctor so she could pick up her prescription, then we went to Walgreens to pick up my prescriptions.  She had to back up and get closer to the window to reach it, and when the lady put my bag of prescriptions in the drawer, my mom couldn't reach them to get them out.  She had to unbuckle, open the door and reach to her very limit, scooting all the way up the seat, to grab the bag.  I suggested that next time she put her seat cushion in the seat so she is a little higher up.  She can barely see over the steering wheel which makes me a little nervous.  She says she sees everything, (except for that minor detail of the woman walking in back of us whom she almost hit.)

But she really wants to drive and become more independent.  And I want her to also.  Next, we drove into another busy parking lot and she eventually got us safely to a parking spot.  When she turns, it's this wide sweep into the other lane, very slowly, and I had to keep telling her to turn in her own lane.  I went into Panera for bagels and she went into Publix for a couple things.  I got done first and came out to the car and when I saw her coming out of Publix, she had a big smile on her face.  She got into the car and said she drove enough today and that I should drive home.  She actually thanked me and gave me a kiss for letting her drive.  I said, "Well, you'll have to tell dad that you drove, I won't."  She said she would, and she did before supper and told him that I was a good teacher.  He said, "Well, we'll go out tomorrow and I will be your teacher."  Ok folks, I know it's time for me to move back home.  I've done what I set out to do and they're both doing much better and my dad is acting like my real dad again. 

My dad is irritated with me because I asked him to print out several papers for the bank that I need to fax to them and for some reason he couldn't figure out how to do it.  I told him that I would print them off, if he would just sign me on to his computer.  Well, I sat at his computer which has at least 100 icons on the desktop and I finally got onto his email.  The whole thing is so screwed up that I, being an ex-clerical worker for 35-plus years, could not figure out how to simply print a document.  It was the most ridiculously constrewed way to print and I tried and tried but failed to print out simple documents.  I said some choice words about his computer and he got real angry with me.  His computer is his best friend, and so he was insulted at my comments.  So now he's giving me the silent treatment.  So I emailed what I needed printed out to a friend at work and she printed them out and is mailing them to me.  How ridiculous is that?  Anyway, I should get them in 2 days and then I will fax them in.  My dad has downloaded more junk on his computer that it's impossible to figure out how to use the most basic components.  All power to him.  I'll stick with my simple, little laptop....

My mom just rolled her eyes over the whole situation.  So, you see - everything is back to normal, or as normal as this household can be.  My mom is getting her independence back, my dad is ornery as usual and after watching how I deal with my dad, my mom is finally, in small ways, standing up to him.  I don't think my mom needs a referee any longer.  They both refuse to move into assisted or independent living, so they will stay in their house as long as they can.  Which I do understand.  I may not agree with it, but I understand.  So really my work here is done.  I just need to tie up some loose ends and then I will be moving back to Madison. 

In the meantime, though, I am still living with old people and so I will continue with this Blog until I start living with young people.  Old people, I'm sure, are much funnier than young people, and since I am getting closer and closer to the "old people" side of the equation, I may have to keep writing under a different title, like "Living with Old People Like Me," or "The Department of Social Security Disability Fiasco and Me."  The latter would be good therapy as I plod through this unbelievably complex system.

Moving On

My parents were almost as devastated when Kita died, as I was.  They fell in love with her as well - even my dad, which is rare for him.  I know he cried when he took her to the vet to be cremated; he just won't show that in front of others.  Death of any one or any thing is just a difficult emotion to deal with - even people with the hardest of hearts.  And we each deal with it in our own particular ways.

I'm done crying now and it's time to move on.  You must move on or you become stuck in time and that is never good.  People who have never dealt with their past hurts, abuses or pain are still stuck in that period of time.  I've learned that you have to "let go" of those things or you get stuck in a type of quicksand, which pulls you further down each day you re-live whatever it is that you are grieving.  Grieving is all important when we lose something or someone or experience the pain we have suffered by the hands of someone or something else - but then we have to let it go, or it takes a hold of us and creates bitterness and resentment in our hearts.  I know this because I've experienced it for myself.

Several years ago, I was in love with a man who also (or who I thought) loved me as well.  We became best friends and planned on marrying and enjoyed each other's company.  He made me laugh more than anyone I ever knew, and that's always been important to me.  He was a kind, gentle soul, or so I thought, until one day he simply told me that he really didn't love me after all.  It was so sudden and came out of nowhere that it all seemed like a dream as we sat and talked.  But he was serious and told me that "I wasn't the marrying kind," which confused me even more.  He was gentle as he was saying all this but all I could do was leave the restaurant and cry all the way home.  I actually stopped the car at a street on the way home because I couldn't see, I was crying so hard.  An officer knocked on my window and asked me if I was ok.  I said I was, but I really wasn't.  I was devastated and had never felt this way before.  For months after that, I went through the motions of life but I wasn't living.  Work was near impossible to get through each day, and unfortunately, my kids had to bear with me as I mourned this loss.

I pined away after this man for a few years following the breakup, because I felt that we were supposed to be together - until he decided to marry another.  I was devastated once again and then I became very bitter and angry.  I had such hate in my heart toward him and his new wife.  They attended my church, so I had to see them every time I went.  I had built a wall of bitterness and hatred around myself and I was so utterly unhappy that all I could do was think about them and their happiness.  Until someone preached a message on bitterness and unforgiveness.  It was then that I realized what I was doing to myself; no one was being hurt here except me. 

I didn't want to feel this way any longer - I had wasted too many years on this and I was done.  I gathered up all the dignity I could and went up to this man and asked if I could talk to him.  I stood there crying and apologized to him and told him that I had been very angry and bitter towards him and I asked him to forgive me.  He began to cry as well and apologized too and something broke that night.  It was like a huge load was lifted off of me.  I left that conversation feeling wonderfully free.  I can't explain it - I just know how I felt that night.  God healed my heart when I took the steps to make it right with this man.  It doesn't even matter whose fault it is; like my mom always said, it takes the bigger person to apologize first. 

That was a lesson I will never forget.  Not that I've done that every time someone hurts me - I haven't.  But eventually I get around to remembering my lesson and how it changed me and I try to make things right - even if I wasn't the one who was wrong.  Nothing, absolutely nothing and no one is worth living a miserable life over.  Forgiveness is a powerful thing.  It melts the hardest heart and completely mends people who have been horribly hurt.  Forgiveness does not say it was ok for that person to hurt me; but it does say that I refuse to hold bitterness in my heart toward them because I would be only further hurting myself. 

So "moving on" means more to me, than perhaps others.  Kita, I will miss you my funny, furry friend.  Have fun runnin' with the big boys up in doggy heaven, and tell Ginger and Rocky that we miss them too....

Thankful for a Broken Heart

This day began like any other; I made breakfast for my dad and myself and then retreating to my room to sip on my coffee and look on the internet.  After an hour or two, the doorbell rang and I heard my dad say, "I'll get it - I'm coming, just a minute!"  The next thing I heard was my dad swearing and calling Kita to come back - she had slipped out the front door and went sniffing around the driveway.  At that point, my mom went wheeling out to the door and I got to the door and went outside and yelled for Kita to come back.  Being the stubborn dog that she is, she wouldn't come back, and every time I walked closer to her, she moved away that much more.  First, I yelled at her like she was going to be in big trouble; then I called out nicely and offered her a cookie.  Neither worked.  The next thing I knew, she was wandering out into the street and I was yelling, "No, No, No!" as loud as I could.  I saw a car come reeling around the corner and didn't even slow down.  By the time I got to her, the car had already hit her and kept on going.  I was screaming out "No" still and when I went down to pick her up, blood was coming from her mouth and head.  I picked her up and her tongue was hanging out and her eyes were open wide and glazed over. 

I brought her into the house and couldn't stop crying.  I knew she was dead as I held her in my arms and my dad took her from me, put her in the car and drove to the vet.  A little while later, he called me from the vet and asked me if I wanted her cremated and if I wanted her ashes.  Well, of course I don't want her ashes, that's ridiculous to me, and all I could do was cry.  My little friend of over a year, who laid by my side every night, was gone.  That fast and without any regard.  The guy who hit her was probably 90 years old and blind as a bat.  She's black -- it would be obvious to see her on white pavement.  Whether he did or not, I'll never know and it doesn't matter anyway.  I'm only glad she didn't suffer, because I think she died instantly.  It would have been nice, however, for him to stop and come back and at least apologize.  But if people won't do that for human beings, I guess why would they for a dog.

I laid in bed all afternoon after calling my kids and telling them what happened.  I slept on and off and kept feeling like my heart was broken.  Anyone with a love for animals knows what I mean and has probably been there.  I wondered, how many times can a heart be broken?  It breaks over so many disappointments in life that sometimes it seems it can't break anymore.  But then time goes by and your heart must heal because somewhere down the line it breaks again. 

I think if your heart breaks, sometimes over and over again, then you must be a compassionate person who lends themselves to be put in the position of being heartbroken.  At first that sounds crazy or even ridiculous, but I don't think it is.  A person with a broken heart, has a heart to be broken.  Those people who don't feel this way about anything, have a hard, inpenetrable heart which lacks compassion and love.  I would much rather be the former, in all ways and for all reasons.

But in the meantime, I hurt with real heartache.  Will I get another dog?  Yes, somewhere down the road, I most probably will.  Why would I do that to myself, to endure yet another heartache one day?  Because the love and devotion that comes from a dog is something that can't be explained, but only felt and experienced.  And because I love to be loved and return it back again.  It's the very essence of human need.  And so, I must say, today I'm thankful for a heart that is broken...

My Parents' Relatives

I've been looking at (I say "looking at," because I'm generally not a reader per se), a book called, "Hooray for Yiddish" by Leo Rosten.  He's also the author of "The Joys of Yiddish" I've spoken about before, that if you ever want a good laugh, pick up and read these books.  It's true that if you're Jewish that would help to understand this humor, but even if you're not, you will enjoy the sounds and meanings of Yiddish words.  Yiddish is a very old language consisting of Hebrew, German and Slavic languages -- a "fusion" of languages.  It was a language I was raised with, since all of my older relatives spoke it and especially spoke it when they didn't want us kids to know what they were saying.  Pretty much all of those people have passed on and so this is very rarely spoken in my parent's house now unless she's talking to an old friend.  We do say certain words in Yiddish, of course, but I haven't heard a whole conversation in a long, long time.

My mother has another doctor appointment this Wednesday.  Their office called to confirm today and I'm glad they did because of what happened last week.  My mom had told me that she had a doctor appointment on Monday at 1:30, so I took her over there on time.  It's quite a schlep from the car to the office and so I dropped my mom off at the door so she could go on up.  I parked the car and then went up to the office only to find my mom standing there sheepish-looking, smiling and saying, "Oh honey, I thought the appointent was today! (Uncomfortable chuckle.) It's tomorrow at 1:30."  I sat down to catch my breath and didn't say anything to my mom because I wouldn't have said anything kind, so I bit my tongue.  Then, down we went, back to get the car and go home.  This has happened more than 3 or 4 times now.  So from now on, I'm asking my mom to confirm her or my dad's appointments ahead of time. 

I guess I have to blame this on my mom's early dementia.  She seems confused about a lot of things, and then clear about others.  On Thanksgiving, when we had all those people over, she sat there eating and said only a few words.  It was kind of strange, but she seemed perfectly content to just eat and basically ignore everyone.  She sat next to me and across from a friend of hers and seemed to be quite comfortable.  My dad sat at the other end of the table and was stuck by my mother's cousin who is loud and obnoxious.  He looked pretty miserable.  My dad also just basically ate and said very little.  It was all very odd.  My mom's cousin monopolized the whole conversation.  I said a few things I probably shouldn't have to this woman because she was getting on my nerves.  She brought two pies - a berry and chocolate cream and she kept telling me that we didn't need the chocolate cream one since I made Tiramisu and I kept telling her we would still be able to use it.  She kept arguing with me about it and I just put it out anyway.  Why did she bring the bloody pie if she didn't want me to put it out?  I envisioned pushing the whole pie in her face.  Ah, but alas, I'm a grownup and you can't do those kinds of things when you're a grownup.  My dad really liked it and I was going to give him some the next day, but it was gone.  She had taken it home.  Idiot.  

I've never really liked my parents' relatives, from the time I was a young girl.  Some of them were "too Jewish" or obnoxious or geeks.  I guess I thought I was too cool for any of them.  I hated family holidays when our relatives came to our house and even worse, if we had to go to theirs.  I would hole myself up in my room if they came over to my house.  I just sat and waited to leave if we had to go to theirs.  It was never fun because my brothers and I had nothing in common with any of them.  I really don't know why - we just didn't. 

I'm looking forward to going home and spending the holidays with my kids and grandkids.  That's who I'm the most comfortable with.  Even though we do a lot of arguing and fussing, I missed my family on Thanksgiving.  And Christmas is my favorite holiday, and I'll be spending it with them.  I love to see my grandkids light up with joy when they open their Christmas presents - it gives me a lot of joy too.   It's really true that it's better to give than to receive.  That is, if it's not a chocolate cream pie...

Thanksgiving

Today is November 24, 2011 and considered Thanksgiving in the United States.  It's a great holiday that most of us think about all the things that we are thankful for, and a lot of us are thankful to God for these things.  If you look on Facebook, you see many people telling others what they are thankful for.  I'm not sure who or what athesists attribute their thanks to. I am thankful to God every day, not just on one particular day.  I actually think most people are.  Except, I suppose, for those who think their lives are miserable.  But I've discovered, that there is always someone else who is worse off than me.  Always.  Keeping that in mind, I am always thankful for my life, my children, my circumstances and my little world.  God has blessed me in numerous ways, and I am ever thankful to Him.

I have to remember to also thank Him for the things which are not such a blessing.  Like my health, for instance.  There's a reason for all things, and truthfully, I'm to blame for the most part regarding my health.  If I had taken better care of myself all these years, I probably wouldn't have so many issues today.  But I'm still thankful for my health.  I could be dying from cancer in hospice, but I'm not.

I thank Him because we will have friends and relatives of my mom over today for dinner, even though I would much rather be with my childen and grandchildren.  I miss them terribly.  But for today, we invited people over who have no where else to go and who are alone.  I did that for every Thanksgiving when I was raising my kids.  My house was always filled with single, alone people who had no family around.  It bothers me to think of people who are not with friends or family on holidays. 

I thank God because I was able to spend so much time with my parents when they needed me the most, even though it meant being away from my children and grandchildren.  It's a blessing to be able to do these things and still be able to support myself with disability checks.  I imagine that some people would disagree.  But until you've walked in another person's shoes, it's impossible to pass judgment on that person.  I've learned that too.

I thank God because even though I get depressed at times, I feel an undergirding joy within myself that is hard to explain.  Joy and peace are "things" that you can't purchase or borrow or beg for.  They come only and exclusively from God.  You can be in the middle of a hurricane with problems surrounding you, but if you're in the will of God, you're in the palm of His hands, and you can have this joy amidst all the confusion.

So the list is endless of what I am thankful for.  I don't have enough room in this Blog to describe each and every thing.  I'm only 56, but I've learned a lot in my short life.  I've learned that you can't make someone love you, but you can still love them.  I've learned that you can't shove the Word of God down someone's throat, but you can pray for them and be there for them when they need you (or God).  I've learned that you always love your children more than they love you - something a good friend told me a long, long time ago, and I've found out that this is true.  I've learned that I am blessed beyond measure, but I'm not as thankful as I should be at times.  And I've learned that life is truly so short that we should always tell each other we love them and how we feel about them.  Next to our relationship with God, is our relationship with others that is so paramount.  Our husbands, our wives, our children, our friends, our family.  And so, I must say that I am very thankful for you...